Fungus

By Rishit Mukherjee

Arnold wanted to cry so badly but he couldn’t because of the damn cat. Fungus sat at the corner of the room licking his paws. But she was watching, Arnold was assured she was. He was tired, with his poor luck and his hellish life.

Arnold was a fine young man. He had no particular extraordinary abilities that made separated him from everyone else, but he was fine young man. Since childhood, he had been what one would, or could call, average. He was quite efficient and a friendly guy. His reliability made him popular so he became the homework help. Other than during the occasional requirement of assistance in tests and projects, he was seldom remembered. Arnold worked as an accountant in a well-known company. He was a bachelor and didn’t have a poor income. His life seemed quite nice, other than the fact he had no friends as such who would stick on forever and give him the undivided attention. E was just another average guy. He had trusty colleagues who popped in once in a while, had a drink, had a smoke and left. They did call on him to their homes occasionally but they couldn’t be called friends. Arnold wasn’t that much of a socialite too.

But then there was the cat, Fungus. Fungus was just any other street cat. One fine morning, as Arnold was going to work, he tripped over her as she sat on the steps. The black feline stood up as soon as his feet touched him, alert, but then it sat down again, with half closed eyes gazing at him. Arnold didn’t spare much thought and just left for work. On coming back, he found the cat still there. So, he left it some food. The next few days too it stayed there. One week later, it wandered inside the house. It was hot Saturday, and it was burning outside. Offices were closed for the day and Arnold was enjoying himself in a chilled room, when the cat climbed up to the sofa and sat by his feet, and just stared at him. And then she just fell asleep. Arnold took her in. He needed company.

The cat never seemed bothered about anything, except by the rain and thunder. Arnold liked it when, Fungus, named after an imaginary childhood friend, snuggled up to him, when the skies roared. He felt needed. He felt enjoyment on coming back home hugging his cat, on days following the arrival of his new boss, who loaded him with work. As he worked on his computer and shifted through the files knowing someone was waiting back home. Arnold knew that Fungus would be, or might be, wanting to play with him the next day, and when she wanted to, he shouldn’t be tired or angry. So, he kept himself cheerful through the pay cuts and the days set as the deadline for his friends to return the money borrowed from him. Even when his widowed mother passed away, he managed through it, thanks to fact of that someone was still there who cared for, to whom phone calls didn’t have to be made every week and was instead, at hand’s reach. 

But it was too much for him, when the company shut down.  The ones at the top simply ran off with the money, while the ones like Arnold lay in the dust wondering what to do. They were trees that survived the erasure of a forest. Everything went into an uproar. There were protests, marches, new coverages and what not, but there wasn’t any peace for Arnold. He was confused.  He was distressed. No matter how many times he stroked Fungus, there wasn’t any comfort. He did find a job but its meagre pay wasn’t enough. Arnold was tired. He found himself insignificant. Arnold thought that people like him were destined to fates like these, destined to live lives of insecurity and obscurity. He wasn’t allowed to be happy. Fungus faded to the recesses of his mind. He still cared for it, mechanically, almost. Occasionally though, Fungus made her presence felt. But then came another disaster, a fire. A flame that wiped out his new workplace. It was as if, the gods were hell bent on screwing his life. Arnold lost it. Bills were due and hiring was low. Life had lost its charm. So he decided to end it.

As he prepared the rope and made sure the hook was rightly placed, he felt tears well up. They were about to break open the floodgates, when he felt a presence. Fungus. Fungus sat licking his paws. Arnold glanced over at her, wondering if it would be accurate to cry in her presence. He wiped his tears and got up. He fixed the chair and secured the rope. He was quite surprised at his own perfection in doing the job, almost like he was born prepared for this. As he prepared to tie the final knot, he looked round the room, and he felt something was missing…...Fungus! Then he thought that it was better she wasn’t there. Right when he was to end himself, he heard the clanging of dishes in the kitchen, and a loud meow. He jumped down from the chair and dashed to the kitchen to prevent the milk from falling in the grasp of Fungus. It seems, Fungus had almost reached his target which sat wide open on the kitchen counter, as it had been opened in the morning for cereal. Arnold had forgotten to put it back since he was preoccupied with his suicidal thoughts.

After the rescue of the milk carton, he stood astounded by his actions. With Fungus held under one arm and the carton held in another he wondered why at the end of his life, he had the sudden urge to protect something he no longer needed. Then it hit him. He didn’t really want to die. And Fungus had made him realize that. His external thoughts of despair had buried the hope inside him and from his unconscious that hope came forth in that quick action. He looked at Fungus, who was trying to escape. Arnold took him to the living room and hugged him and wept in joy. Maybe things would look up.

By Rishit Mukherjee