The aristocrats of Bandra West, Bombay can be easily identified by their fawning staff and splendid lifestyle. They tend to sport soft coats of well-groomed fur, enjoy a bout of 'string' hunting every now and then and speak fluent poetry. We caught up with a few of the elusive Lords and Ladies (they deigned to give us an interview) and learnt about their lives and all that they love.
Photographed by Aishwarya Arumbakkam, written by Meera Ganapathi for thesoup.website
Lord Kobo The Traveller, Almeida Park
Under the dark of sofas
O’er the twist and bend
of curtain rod
a brave white shadow
stalks the unknown.
Amidst tangles of unsuspecting feet
with ne’er a care for cooing ladies
or eager petting hands,
this journeyman, this traveller,
this Monkey,
this Cat,
seeks life and its meaning.
Lord Kobo Of Union Park
He’s mollycoddled and mussed
fussed over and discussed.
Because, he is no commoner
or alley cat, you see.
No ser,
The Archduke Of Union Park is he.
For lunch they serve him,
shiny apple and cinnamon pears
with poached egg and three hares.
But he is no glutton,
or gourmand you see.
No ser,
The Archduke Of Union Park is he.
Lady Apple on a windy Sunday afternoon at her residence.
She’s haughty and polite
observant of your slightest slight.
But ever the lady,
she’ll never let you know,
exactly why,
she hates you so.
Sir Jax, the jester of Pali Hill
Jax was once full of funnies
full of love and laughter.
Sparkling with wit
and bursting with song
he was so funny.
Oh so funny!
But Life is a cruel sort of jester
one who laughs with slit eyes.
And one day,
wearing a hat trimmed with
ominously tinkling bells
Life stole his lady love away.
Ever since,
Jax the Jester
got a bit funny.
Not that kind of funny,
But that kind of funny!
His jokes are dipped in darkness now.
People laugh,
but later,
Jax’s jokes stick with them,
in their heads
in their beds,
filling them with utter dread
as they toss and turn
sleepless and awake.
Because that kind of funny is contagious.
Madam Poocha and Lady Nikko of Reclamation
Madam Poocha
She doesn’t talk much.
But she always
has something to say.
Lady Nikko
From a dark alley
peeked the dark head
of she who would soon become,
The Knight of umm…Darkness.
With a golden eye, a sharpened claw,
and the gentle swipe of a very sure paw,
she will grab your eye,
your attention
and eventually feast
on the warm cockles of your heart.
Don’t blame her,
you gave your heart quite willingly.
Lady Miso the Fair of Chapel Road
Miso the cat
is fair and lovely.
But she doesn’t believe in fairness creams.
All that lightening, brightening, whitening,
she really finds,
quite frightening.
She prefers instead
to soak up the sun
run up a stair
and groom herself
here and there.
(And quite honestly,
everywhere).
Lord Norman Francis owns an enviable collection of cat nip. Here, he is photographed with a fish variant he plans to patent.
Lord Norman Francis,
he worried a lot,
he worried so much
that sometimes,
he worried about worrying.
Miss Truffle, the miracle baby of Rizvi
When a whispered prayer
comes through,
when a song
of hope
comes true,
you start believing in believing.
And a cat named after
lunch-time dessert
seems quite normal.
And perfectly plausible.
Because you see
this little Truffle,
really is,
the sweetest thing there could be.
Lady Mimi of Hill Road spends her afternoons reading correspondence from her beaux.
The belle of the ball
isn’t always the prettiest girl in the room.
She’s the meanest.
You’ll never know
if she’s laughing with you
or at you.
She drops her hanky
quite accidently,
but pointedly
where you can pick it up.
When you bring it to her,
stuttering, stammering
hoping to win her favour,
she enjoys your distress
and feigns ignorance.
But quite unexpectedly,
she saves you with a peck.
A peck so fleeting, so chaste
it could never be called kiss.
But you’re mollified,
somewhat.
And quite a bit in love.
And as you write her your 100th letter
drenched in perfume and saccharine,
she’s already bored of you.