My cat Plato and a question of Do I Belong?

Kingini (middle) and Plato

Kingini, my demure and pretty cat, was going to give birth. So she started pampering me very uncharacteristically. She would never let me pamper her. She wouldn’t even come near me except for food. So, when she started rubbing her golden fur against my shin, I knew it was time for me to arrange her labour room. For my earlier queens, I used cardboard cartons in which Amazon delivered stuff. But now Amazon is using some cheap plastic-like material for delivering items. So I brought a plastic basket, the largest I could find in the shop I know, and made a bed of newspapers and a piece of a bedsheet. Kingini approved of it.

In a few days’ time, on 7 Feb 2025 to be precise, Kingini gave birth to two cute kittens that looked exactly like my Plato, my beloved male cat who is the first son of Kingini. X

Plato was named after the philosopher on a sheer whim of mine. I had had a drink when I christened him. That’s how it usually works: a bit of brandy or whisky has inspired the names of most of my cats, except Kingini whose name was Maggie’s choice. I was never fond of Kingini, in fact, because she never claimed intimacy with me. What use is a pet without intimacy?

With hindsight, I might say that Plato, Kingini’s son, was named thus in a subconscious spirit of vengeance. Plato, the philosopher, wouldn’t have approved of cats in his Republic. He didn’t even want poets there because poets would be a nuisance with their passions. Plato approved of dogs because of their loyalty and servility. But cats, with their royal attitudes? No way. So, I named Kingini’s son Plato. A folksy plebeian’s revenge on a classical philosopher.

However, Plato hasn’t behaved like the philosopher at any time. He is a combination of the Buddha and Kumbhakarna. He sleeps most of the time but appears to be in deep contemplation.

He loves his mother so much that he seldom leaves her alone. Now, when Kingini is trying to feed her two little newborn kittens, Plato enters that little box and finds a place for himself. Occasionally he joins the tiny infants in sucking his mother’s milk too. The philosopher Plato wouldn’t approve of this at all. But I have no choice unless Kingini expresses her disapproval. She seems to be enjoying all this. 

Kingini and Plato have been the best of friends. They play all sorts of games that keep me amused. Like this: 

The truth is I didn’t want to write about Kingini and Plato at all. The topic that came to my mind this morning for today’s blog post was Modi’s victory in the Delhi election. But I’m sick of politics, not only the Modi-kind but also of his fraand Trump-kind. Even Putin-kind, Jinping-kind, Netanyahu-kind… Why do people with criminal hearts become our leaders?

You see, how the tone of this post has changed the moment I touched politics. Aren’t cats better? Much, much better, I’m catty-sure.

But Plato’s (not the philosopher) attachment to his mother, which is quite uncharacteristic, made me think of my feeling of belonging to my country. Is it really my country? Has Modi made me feel like an outsider because of my being a non-Hindu? Who does Modi’s India belong to? Whenever Modi appears on my TV screen, I feel an eerie revulsion.