The Cat which lived in my Suitcase

A sinister looking cat; black
Lived in my suitcase
On odd winter nights.

On even nights, I'd straighten
My suitcase; a golden brown ;
Heavy from the chips
I had brought from home.

The night after I found the cat
Sleeping on my bed next to my head,
I bolted the room
And sealed it from him.

How do I let a cat steal my thoughts,
Staring at me  from my bed,
While I sleep?

But on other odd winter nights
I'd still forget to lock the room
And the hostel cat
Would sneak in for the heat
Of my suitcase.

The next day I decided
To prepare my dead suitcase
Into a living room for this cat
Which must have had mutliple names
In the history of her hostel life.

I removed the packets of chips
And the few unwashed clothes inside.

For want of old clothes for comfort,
I placed the soft posters and
The slogan printed fabric
I had collected from the protests
Around the city, on one side
And a few newspapers,
On the other.

The cat sneaked in one odd night,
And found my new suitcase room
Warm enough to stay on.

On all winter nights the cat slept
inside her new room.
And on all winter mornings,
I'd replace the damaged newspapers
With fresh ones.

Until one day, one newspaper
had a full page photograph
Of 2 bearded men, waving their hands,
In an orange backdrop,
In kurtas that sang their names
and a smile,
Deceptive of the glasses of fresh blood
They had just drunk.

The cat which lived in my suitcase,
For the first time peed all over my suitcase,
in protest and walked out
Giving me the last piercing angry look
of a lifetime.

My suitcase remains empty since
And my heart, guilty for the
Mistake of the replaced paper.

If ever you see the cat,
Do let her know I'm sorry,
Will you?