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Moneypurr: Who Will Bell The Cat?

By Dennis Misao

15 September, 2015

Once upon a time, in the outer peripheries of the Indian Galaxy, there existed a distant and lonely planet called Moneypurr. Before the arrival of the mighty Indian Galactic Federation, an ancient civilisation with awesome martial skills once ruled there. Wary of the warlike ways of the natives, a peace-keeping fleet was permanently stationed there. It was like all other remote planets - out of sight, out of mind. 90 % of that planet was hill and 10% of it was valley.

90 % had all the mice in it; 10% had all the fat cats. On top of their fat wallets, the cats also had the keys to the planet in their pockets. They essentially owned the planet. The cats freely drove their cars and bikes, made outrageous fashion choices, and made lots of home movies.

However, unnoticed and unseen, a steady stream of alien worker bees began to slowly invade that planet sometime after 1951. They quietly went about their business while the cats partied on. They came in ones and twos and threes at first. Later on, they just kept coming. Inch by inch, the cats were pushed into a tight space. On waking up from their catnap a full 64 years later, they became alarmed. They got together on city streets, pelting stones and burning tyres screaming – “ALIEN INVASION!”

However, the mice remained silent. Fierce warriors themselves, they believed they were free. Free from cats and aliens, free to do as they pleased under the watchful protection of the Galactic Constitution. They periodically voted and made choices. Which cheese to buy was no different from which MLA to elect. They were also sold by various self-help books the idea that they too, had the power to change the planet. As long as they had enough scraps, leftovers and hand-me-downs to survive, they really didn’t mind what was going on. All that changed when without warning, the cats suddenly put up 3 bills on the wall.
The bills said (more or less) – “BELL THE ALIEN RATS!”

While there is indeed a fundamental difference between aliens, cats, rats and mice, the play on words was (more or less) simply too much. The mice were outraged. If anything needed a bell, it was the cats, not them.

Their fury knew no bounds. The rage spread like wildfire, consuming entire buildings in its wrath. Even rubber bullets and tear gas failed to stop them. The hurt and anger lasted for what seemed an eternity. The tears still fall for the dead.

After the fires subsided, the mice asked among themselves: “Who will bell the cat?” Almost all the mice put up their hands immediately. Each wanted the glory all to himself. None had any clue what they were going to do to bell the cat.

The cats looked on in shocked bewilderment. They hurriedly scrambled to set things right. But it was too late. It was every cat and mouse for himself.

In this cat and mouse game, volleys of allegations, counter-allegations, clarifications and counter- clarifications were exchanged as if there was nothing else to do. No choice of word, adjective or expletive was spared. No theory was left unattended - from the theory of the evolution of cats, to the theory of the origin of mice. Even the internet shut down in sheer distress.

The mighty Indian Galactic Federation looked at the unfolding drama in stoic silence.

In the grand scheme of things, separation was futile. It did not matter in any power play of the universe. The rulebook clearly says that Freedom does not come with bells and whistleblowers. How could they ever understand?

Meanwhile in that distant and lonely planet, the debate continues.....

Dennis Misao is a part-time writer and full time philanthropist based in Lungphou, Sadar Hills, Manipur.

© Dennis Misao 2015


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