The Karavali Gazette of Sense and Nonsense
Aunt Selvi’s Corner
(By our very own Selvi Aunty, philosopher of filter coffee and unpaid commentator on world affairs)
Darlings, mark the calendar. August 17th. Not your wedding anniversary (you forgot that anyway), not even the day your son finally moved out. No, no. August 17th is far more distinguished. For it was on this date that one William Jefferson Clinton, President of the United States and part-time Shakespeare impersonator, declared before the world: “It depends on what the meaning of IS is.”
Aiyo, such drama! Never has a verb received such limelight. Imagine poor “IS,” sitting quietly for centuries, doing its small duty in schoolbooks, suddenly dragged onto the global stage like a contestant on Indian Idol. Overnight, grammarians wept, lawyers rejoiced, and English teachers everywhere whispered, “Finally, somebody is paying attention.” If you ask me, Clinton’s true legacy is not politics, but giving the humble verb its first headline moment. Not bad for three letters, no?
But, as the saying goes, when it rains, it pours. Because August 17th is not satisfied with only one scandalous celebrity. It also happens to be—believe it or not—Black Cat Appreciation Day. Yes, yes, laugh if you must. The poor black cat, centuries of bad PR trailing behind it like a tail, finally gets its own day. About time! How many centuries can one creature be blamed for everything from witches’ broomsticks to bad cricket scores?
I, Selvi, take this moment to defend the black cat. After all, what has it truly done? It walks. It sits. It purrs. It occasionally blocks your way when you are already late for the temple bus. That’s it. But humans, being experts at outsourcing blame, have turned this creature into a walking almanac of misfortune. Lose your keys? Black cat. Late to the wedding? Black cat. Husband forgets anniversary? Black cat. What a service, to absorb all our mistakes and wear them like a fur coat of shame. If Clinton showed us how to twist words, then surely the black cat showed us how to twist fate.
Now, let us gossip truthfully. What legacy do these two icons leave behind? Clinton gave language a scandal, teaching us that words can be bent, stretched, and massaged until they squeak. Thanks to him, “IS” became not only a verb but a career path for clever lawyers. His legacy is a warning: never underestimate the power of small words in big mouths.
The black cat, meanwhile, left us a different kind of legacy. It taught us resilience, the fine art of surviving slander. Imagine carrying centuries of superstition on your whiskers and still managing to nap gracefully in the afternoon sun. That, my dears, is what I call dignity. When blamed, it did not protest—it simply swished its tail and continued to exist. Survival with style, legacy with fur.
And what about us, my loyal readers sipping your morning kaapi? What legacies are we leaving behind this week? Did you touch someone’s life? Did you confuse them, amuse them, trip them up? My friend Radha, for instance, insists she made history yesterday. “I impacted the black cat,” she announced proudly. “I tripped over it outside my gate and screamed so loudly that the whole colony thought there was a ghost.” There you have it: one woman, one cat, one sprained ankle, and a legacy that will echo through WhatsApp forwards for at least a week.
So I ask you: who did you impact this week? Who did you leave laughing, frowning, thinking, or even cursing? Don’t aim for statues, my dears. Aim for pawprints in wet cement, WhatsApp gossip in family groups, and small ripples in the teacups of life. Because in the end, legacy is like IS—it depends entirely on what meaning you choose to give it.
And if all else fails, as Aunt Selvi always says: just blame the cat.
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