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The Orange Tiger with a Red Heart

Photo Credit: Chenthil

She had seen that tattoo before! If only she could remember where. There was something very familiar about it and yet every time she thought she’d got it, it escaped out of her clutches. She felt like she was chasing an imp in a gnarled forest filled with hidden places and a drifting mist.

Goddamn Imp! – she thought as he gave her the slip again. Maybe looking at the tattoo more closely might reveal something she thought. Trying to manoeuver crookedly over the basin she tried to get closer to the mirror, peering over her shoulder she squinted at her shoulder in the mirror trying to see something she might have missed before.

Trying to ignore the pain in her neck and strain to her eyes she stared hard at the tattoo. It was a simple tattoo, nothing flashy about it. No intricate designs, symbology or mythological characters. It was just the outline of a tiger filled in orange colour holding out a heart coloured red. Something about the tiger looked familiar, like it was a part of her life, something she saw almost everyday.

‘Gawd, first imps, now tigers, all this running around is tiring me out’, with that thought she slowly slid to the floor and leaning back on the door she stared at the pot. ‘Where did that black spot come from?’ she tilted her head puzzled. ‘Ah! The goobe had decided to change sides when putting out his cig it seemed’. One mystery solved her mind went back to the tiger while her eyes bored down on the spot willing it to disappear.

Orange tigers, where had she seen that. Tigers were supposed to be yellow, were they also mellow? Her mind went down a tangent, as she contemplated the poetry sprouting from her mind. Where did the mellow come from? Was the bathroom with its colours of orange and ivory that was brought out the word mellow. Was this bathroom mellow. Is this what mellow meant. So many words in her head that was just descriptions from a dictionary, now one had real meaning. But was this really mellow, could orange be mellow.

‘Ah, orange.’ She was thinking of something orange before going down the mellow road, what was it. Then it came to her, an orange tiger, there was only one orange tiger she knew – Hobbes. But what the hell was Hobbes doing on her back and that too holding a heart. Where was Calvin?

Knock, knock. ‘Hey, you been in the loo a while, you alright?’

He he, talk of the devil. ‘Yeah baby, all fine, just stoned.’

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

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