Who Was Digging?

By Pratichi Satpathy

I walked into the park, but couldn’t find any of my friends in their usual places. I looked around, and saw all of them gathered near the fountain. I sprinted towards them, only to find them engrossed in conversation with a middle-aged man. He was smiling, cracking jokes and showing magic tricks, and seemed fun to hang out with. Even their pets were in awe of his antics. Although my friends were drawn to him like iron pins to a magnet, I kept my distance, as I did not enjoy socialising with strangers.

That night, I sat by the window in my room, overlooking the house next to ours. All of a sudden, the sound of a shovel scraping the earth startled me. I peeped out of the window, only to find someone digging a hole in our neighbour’s backyard. They buried something, but it was too dark to figure out what it was. I found this strange, as it was almost midnight, but I didn’t care.

The next morning, grandma, a social being, sent me to their place to deliver a casserole of hot upma as they had moved in recently. The name plate said A. K. Shinde. A grumpy woman was there to welcome me. “What are you doing here? Kids these days…” she snapped at me when she opened the door. I tried to remain calm, and handed her the dish, which she growled at me to place on her table. The moment I stepped into the house, I started sneezing and wheezing. “Do you have cats?” I managed to choke out, as my eyes watered. “NO! I hate cats!” Mrs. Shinde exclaimed and snatched the casserole from my hands, pushing me out. As I left, I saw the man from the park waving at me from the backyard. I smiled and walked on.

“If the Shindes don’t own any cats, why was I wheezing? I am, after all, only allergic to cats. And why was there so much cat hair on the ground and couch?” I found myself wondering.

That evening, I found Sarah, a close friend, crying on the swing. On inquiring what the matter was, I figured out that her pet cat, Marley had gone missing the previous night. I assured her that she would be able to locate him soon, and cats usually came back home when they wandered off. Over the next week, more and more cats went missing.

The other day, I was looking through our mailbox, and I saw a letter to the Shindes accidently delivered to us. Reluctantly, I trudged over to their place to give it to them. I rang the doorbell multiple times, but there was no reply. I twisted the doorknob, and found the door to be open. As I entered, I heard loud chanting from the kitchen and saw Mrs Shinde in a black dress throwing slimy things into a fire, which was giving out a pungent odour. Disgusted, I left the letter on the table and ran out.

Outside, I saw Mr Shinde in his backyard, and waved at him. “Oh, hey there, what brings you here?” he asked me. I explained why I was there, and then said, “Mr Shinde, I have been seeing someone in your backyard, digging the soil at night. I think you have trespassers,” I replied. Mr Shinde’s expression turned uncomfortable. “I- I am busy now, we’ll discuss this later,” he said, unconsciously brushing off cat fur from his sweater. Frowning, I left.

That night, when I heard the sounds of digging, I mustered the courage to sneak out and see what was going on. I crept out, and to my surprise, I found Mr Shinde with the carcass of a cat, burying it in the ground. I was rooted to the spot for a second, the dots connecting in my head – Mr Shinde gained the cats’ trust, brought them home and slaughtered them, thereafter giving their entrails to his crazy wife to sacrifice. I rushed to get my camera, but by the time I was back, he was gone.

The next morning, I ran into the community secretary’s office, panting loudly. The receptionist asked me why I was there, and I told him that I knew where the missing cats were. He ushered me into the waiting room, where I sat fidgeting until it was my turn. “G-good morning, ma’am. I’m Patty, and I know where the cats of our locality are going,” I said hurriedly, the moment I entered her room. “Hello dear. Please tell me who you think is behind all this,” she said. When I reported to her what I thought was happening, her face turned red. “How dare you accuse such a respectable member of the society? He would never do something like this!” she exclaimed. “Please follow me into his backyard. He has buried the cats there!” I begged. The secretary and I went back and forth like this for a while until she gave in and came with me.

We waited until Mr Shinde left for work. Then, I grabbed a shovel from our shed, and we stepped into their yard through the back gate. I dug hard on the spot where I thought he had been burying the cat the last night and lo and behold! A mangled cat corpse lay there, covered with dirt. The secretary quietly dialled the police and sent them images of the corpse, and then called Mr Shinde, who had barely driven half a kilometre, home on the pretence that Mrs Shinde was unwell. We knocked at the door, and Mrs Shinde opened it, confused to see the secretary, until she saw me behind her.

By this time, Mr Shinde had arrived. He was perplexed when he saw Mrs Shinde standing at the door. When the police arrived at their doorstep, Mr Shinde realised what was going on. He tried to strike the secretary, but the police were already restraining him. Handcuffs snapped around his wrists, while the police raided their house. They found Mrs Shinde’s book of ‘chants’ and chopped up pieces of cat entrails, and handcuffed her as well. She protested as loudly as she could, “You can’t take us! We- we need 50 more cats to bring our dead son alive!” but to no avail. The duo were taken to the police station for further investigation.

I watched all this with the secretary’s arm around my shoulders, and a smug smirk on my face. “Another feather to add to your cap, Patty Sienna Sazzazzhy,” I thought to myself.

By Pratichi Satpathy