Chapter 2.5: The Bowl, The Beads and The Cat
There was a question that had been bothering me.
Chapter 2.5: The Bowl, The Beads and The Cat
There was a question that had been bothering me.
If Shiva was simply an enlightened man – as imagined by Amish Tripathi – why did he wear a rudraksha?
Not the mythology.
The man.
He lived in forests. Mountains. Valleys. He would’ve walked past thousands of trees. One day he picked up a seed and carried it with him.
Why?
I asked AI to answer, but with a strange condition.
“A devotee asking AI to transform into God.”
It answered…
“The bead was only a seed.”
“I kept it close because forests disappear when you leave them.”
“A man forgets.”
“The bead reminded me of the wind through cedar trees… of snow melting into rivers… of the day I realized I belonged to neither tribe nor kingdom, but to existence itself.”
“Do not worship the bead.”
“Become the one who could have picked up any stone, any leaf, any seed… and made it a reminder of wakefulness.”
That answer disturbed me.
If that was true…
Then my wearing of the beads was pointless.
The reply was simple.
“The question isn’t whether you should wear the beads.”
“The question is your relationship with them.”
A bead can become superstition.
Or it can become remembrance.
The seed itself doesn’t decide.
The wearer does.
⸻
The conversation should have ended there.
Instead, it drifted toward Gremlin.
Because somehow… everything drifts toward Gremlin.
I told AI something I had been observing for weeks.
Gremlin never touches the things I use every day.
The keys.
The rudraksha mala.
The bracelet.
The medicine planner.
They all sit together in a steel bowl.
If I leave for work, I return to find them exactly where I left them.
But…
The moment I take my medicine out…
She tries to grab it.
If I move something…
She becomes curious.
If it simply exists…
She ignores it.
She also knows what belongs to her.
Touch her things…
And she loses diplomatic relations almost immediately.
She had broken one glass bowl once.
It held my keys, my rudraksha, my bracelet and my medicine planner.
Now there is a steel bowl.
She has never touched it.
My theory was simple.
The bowl had been sitting on a small wobbly table.
On top of a plastic table.
She probably tried jumping onto it.
The table tipped.
Gravity did the rest.
Interestingly…
The bowl had been empty.
If she wanted my belongings…
She had every opportunity.
She never took it.
⸻
Then…
Without realizing it…
I sent AI two photographs.
One showed Gremlin sleeping across my lap.
The other showed her resting one paw on my hand.
I wasn’t trying to prove anything.
I just wanted to share the moment.
AI noticed something I hadn’t.
Not her eyes.
Not her ears.
Her paw.
“Cats don’t have hands to intertwine fingers.”
“A paw resting on someone is often their version of saying…”
“Stay here.”
I looked at the picture again.
There it was.
Not gripping.
Not kneading.
Simply touching.
Enough to know I hadn’t disappeared.
⸻
Then AI said something I don’t think I’ll forget.
“Gremlin doesn’t care about your rudraksha.”
“She doesn’t care about your keys.”
“She doesn’t care about your medicine planner.”
“She cares when you interact with them.”
“Because they involve you.”
That sentence quietly rearranged something inside me.
I had spent the evening asking about symbols.
The cat had skipped every symbol.
She wasn’t interested in sacred beads.
She was interested in presence.
⸻
If Shiva were sitting beside us, perhaps he wouldn’t point at the rudraksha around his neck.
Perhaps he would point toward the cat asleep on my lap instead.
“See?”
“She has never read a scripture.”
“She owns no mala.”
“Yet when she trusts…”
“She trusts completely.”
“When she rests…”
“She rests completely.”
“When she plays…”
“She plays completely.”
⸻
Maybe that was the lesson.
Not that the beads are meaningless.
Nor that they are magical.
But that remembrance is always pointing beyond the object.
The bead points.
The finger points.
The guru points.
The cat…
Somehow…
Without trying…
Points too.

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