Since morning Tunu has been feeling restless. She can't concentrate on anything. She wants to do something, she decides to do something, and then, no, not annoyance, but a kind of dislike raises its head. For example, she wanted to draw a picture or room a tune. To think was to act. In a moment she sat down with a piece of paper, her brush and her colours. But after one or two strokes of her brush and one or two scrawls of her pencil, she threw everything away and got up. She knew what she was going to draw but she thought, well, it can wait, I'll do it later. Let me rather sing. But even before she could bring out a single sound from her throat she gave up and went out to the balcony. She stood there and gazed at the sky with a faraway look in her eyes. Those who were watching her all this time said, well, what's the matter with you, Tunu? You started to draw and then get up without finishing it. Why? Tunu looked vague and distant as before. With her eyes fixed on the sky, she said, I feel out of sorts now. I'll draw again when I feel like it, not now. They were surprised to hear her words. Nothing like thes had happened before. What was wrong? Apu, her elder sister, looked at her face and asked, What's the matter. Tunu? Since early morning you have been wandering with a glum face What's wrong? Has somebody ticked you off for something?
He appeared all on a sudden, then again got into his car and left as suddenly. No one understood the why, when or how of his comings and goings.
Thinking of uncle she murmured something to herself. It seemed that her mood grew a little blacker. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps her earlier mood grew a little more intense, that was all.
She heard a sound near the staircase door. She raised her eyes and saw an ash coloured tiny little cat looking at her with blinking eyes. She made no movement, only stared steadily at Tunu, and went on and on staring.
Well, how would you feel if someone stared at you and continued to do so without any rhyme or reason? Your mood would surely grow black. So did Tunu's. Besides, it seemed to her that the pussy cat, with its eyes fixed on her, was smiling. If it was that, surely Tunu had a right to get angry. You or she or I, for that matter anyone would have that right.
