Mumbai
A long black cat lives underground the city of Mumbai. She could not get an apartment above ground as she’s a non-vegetarian. And a smoker. She is both when she eats smoked ham sandwiches. Over 200 feet long, she lives under the city, her watchful eyes constantly watching and eyeing the population above. One of her favorite pastimes is to position herself below the Virar-Santa Cruz railway line and swing her tail to rattle the local trains. She hopes this will cause one of the daily commuters hanging on by a screw thread to fall and get smooshed into a fine, smooth paste. She uses this paste to paint avant-garde pieces that are her interpretations of Dante’s Purgatorio and Paradiso. Not Inferno because she thinks it is overrated. She spends her weekends on Marine Drive. No one is brave enough to tell her that she’s a 200-foot mythical black cat and the concept of weekends doesn’t apply to her. She longs to walk across the Bandra-Worli sea link but cannot afford the toll. Her least favorite spot in the city is Cuffe Parade. She spent 34 days in a row waiting there but never saw a single parade. She will exist as long as the city exists which, if climate change goes according to plan, should be till July 27th, 2046.
Delhi
Small flying creatures called Poplins have lived in Delhi for centuries. They have seen it all. From the Mughals riding through their city on their preferred beast of burden — the peacock — to the fine lady vomiting on the street at 7: 30 PM and going back to bar to throw back a couple more shots. A human can only see them if he or she has shown humility at least once in his or her lifetime. So, these creatures are invisible to most of the citizens. Poplins act as the guardian angels of Old Delhi and New Delhi. Their track record has been sketchy at best. But hey, at least they’re performing better than the Soplins — the guardian angels of Somalia. They float through the streets, powered by the smells of parathas, chhole, and sewage. They despise tea and coffee and order only hot chocolate at bars. They prefer nylon to cotton when trying to clean themselves after a long stint in the toilet. Also, all of them are asexual which begs the question — how do they enjoy watching the Delhi Daredevils?
Chennai
Chennai doesn’t have a legendary urban mythical creature anymore. She died. She was a goblin named Travanka who made ringlets out of her armpit hair and blew snot bubbles at 34 year old men on Marina beach. She was 3.719 feet tall and a great delight for about potential lawsuits by pugnacious parents. (She loved alliteration). Oh what a sight it was to see Travanka at a small cafe, dipping an orphan’s head in Sambhar and then swallowing it whole. But sadly one day as she was walking through the bazaar, a drunk bull gored her and ripped apart her stomach. Why did the bull commit such a cruel act? Some say it was because Travanka was completely dressed in purple that day. Others say that she had insulted the bull by calling his mother a cow. A few even believe that the bull was a former jilted lover of Travanka. Whatever may be the reason, Travanka is no more and the local government body is trying to fill her spot. If you would like to audition, please send in your entry through telepathy.
Thiruvananthapuram
A giant CD rolls through the streets of the capital of Kerala. No, it is not some forgotten antique but rather a sentient being that the people seem to not care for much. He rolls through the streets looking for the perfect CD drive to embrace him. Little does he know that CD drives went obsolete. At night, residents are woken up by his pitiful wails as he longs to be with his partner. At this point, they throw stones, shoes, and copies of Amar Chitra Katha at him but to no avail. He is perhaps cursed to wander around forever, like a shiny Ferris Wheel with a hole inside him. Both a literal and metaphorical hole.
Kolkata
Kolkata is home to a magical woolen cap that grew wings and eyes. But in the wrong places. It uses its wings to see and eyes to fly. It never grew ears and so has never heard Rabindra Sangeet. The lucky dog. Old Wooly — that’s what people call him even though he’s a teenager — flies through the cafes of the city, eyes blinking a 1000 times a second. It only stops to have animated political discussions with the other patrons. It takes great pleasure in the upheavals happening in the political world of Madagascar. Which leaves the other patrons hunting for a dictionary, when they should be hunting for an atlas. Old Wooly has a peculiar way of drinking tea where it envelopes the cup of tea and sucks it dry in seconds. It also has a peculiar way of drinking coffee where it has to take a picture of the latte art before drinking it. Old Wooly enjoys cigarettes but being woolen, cannot smoke one without endangering its existence. He flies around street corners trying to get a whiff of the passive smoke. Sadly due to this habit, Old Wooly was diagnosed with cancer. Doctors have given it twelve more years to live and then had an existential crisis because they diagnosed a woolen cap. Talk about a wasted education!
