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Who is Howling in Arabian Nights?

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It must be a wolf on a chilling night. The descendant of the one who smelled the blood of the prophet Yousuf. His brothers threw him into a well and lied to their father that a wolf had killed him—the one who undeservedly bore the burn of the blame among all the animals of the desert. We are so quick to assume Arabia is an astronomical stretch of sandy dunes margined by horizons. But it is not like that everywhere, especially in inhabited areas, places of settled life near water holes, valleys, and places where caravans used to meet their suppliers and buyers along the trails in the past but have grown to be modern-day towns. I read Alfa Layla Wa Laylah (Thousand Nights and a Night) in Malayalam copy I borrowed from the college library. I did enjoy it myself. I owned a copy of my own in English much later in 2003 from a used bookstore in Kozhikode. Last week, my son had heard something about a tale from his school and came home asking if I had any such a book in our collection. ...

You, the drunkard!

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What are you fathoming, entirely focused, risking your awareness of your surroundings? This is the first time I've seen you dive deep into flowers to gather nectar. Your resilience in the face of potential predators is genuinely inspiring. Are you so engrossed in your work that you're distracted? Where do you go after you're done? Why are the flowers so stingy with their nectar, making your job more challenging? Why do you venture out alone, without your friends to keep watch, as you dive blindly into the center of the flower? Hey, Zinnia! I hadn't fully appreciated your beauty until you were in full bloom. You’re a true marvel in full bloom! Make the most of the sunshine, dear flower! You're thriving in the light, and it suits you. Keep growing and flourishing. It doesn't feel like a chore when we're passionate about something. While theory and practice may differ in many ways, that's alright. You're still reaching your full potential, even if it...

Call me meow meow.

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            Cats are cats; by any other name, they act like cats only. There are plenty of cats down the streets, and interestingly, a dictionary defines cats as an animal popular in the Middle East and Africa. Cats are usually very photogenic, and our archives have plenty of such pictures. But this one is not seen around here; he behaves as if he owns all the land and is in charge of the welfare of the entire neighborhood. I didn’t care either. Our neighbors Yahya and Jawahir are avid feline philanthropists feeding all the cats around with store-bought cat feed. She has set up a few labor rooms for cats to give birth and for maternity care. She doesn’t mind the thankless demeanor for which cats are notorious. I sat on a stack of hollow bricks listening to an audiobook, Nature Fix by Florence Williams. I usually enjoy doing so during summer nights after strolling down the deserted driveway well-lit by a tall lamppost down the street yet to be called by th...