One afternoon at the roadside of Dhanmondi, I came across a cat. As it approached, I noticed a collar around its neck — this was someone's pet, clearly lost and alone.

With empathy, I sat down and extended my hand. The cat hesitantly nuzzled against me, its small tag catching the light. Someone, somewhere, was surely missing this little creature. Determined to help, I decided to stay with the cat, hoping to figure out a way to reunite it with its owner.

We both enjoyed the peaceful beauty of the windy afternoon together. It felt like we were both finding comfort in each other's presence, a brief escape from worldly worries.

But then, my phone rang. The sudden sound broke our tranquil moment. Distracted, I took the call, and when I looked back, the cat was gone. Panic set in as I searched frantically, calling out, but the cat had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Guilt washed over me. I had lost track of someone who was already lost! The weight of that realisation was heavy. I had wanted to help, to make a difference, but instead, I had let this trusting little creature slip away once more.

In losing the lost one, I learned about the fragility of trust and the importance of being present. Though the cat may be gone, our brief time together remains a testament to the kindness that binds us all. 

Photo: Courtesy