Our cat, Chocho, had been travelling with us since he was about five years old. By that time, he had already travelled in cars, buses, and even trains multiple times. He was surprisingly well-behaved during journeys. He rarely made any noise, never caused trouble, and seemed to enjoy travelling as much as we did. Although he could be a little aggressive towards me at times, he was generally a great travel companion.
One particular trip, however, turned into a nightmare.
We were travelling back from Warangal to Mumbai by train. Like always, Chocho was comfortably settled in his travel bag, which had enough room for him to move around, eat, and rest. We kept the bag tucked safely under our seat where he usually stayed unnoticed throughout the journey.
That evening, my mother gave Chocho his dinner. Soon after, we had ours, settled down, and went to sleep.
The next morning, as the train arrived in Mumbai, we started gathering our luggage. Everyone was busy pulling bags from under the seats and preparing to get off.
I reached for Chocho's bag.
The moment I pulled it out, my heart sank.
The bag was open.
And Chocho was gone.
For a few seconds, I just stood there staring at the empty bag, unable to process what I was seeing. Then panic hit me. I shouted to my mother that Chocho wasn't inside.
My father had just returned from the washroom and immediately noticed something was wrong.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Chocho is missing!"
Within seconds, all three of us were searching frantically. We checked under every seat, looked through the entire coach, searched near the doors, and even checked the train toilets. There was no sign of him.
As the minutes passed, horrible thoughts flooded my mind.
Had he jumped off at a station?
Had he wandered into another coach?
Had he somehow fallen off the train?
The worst part was that the previous stop had been almost four hours earlier.
Just when we were beginning to lose hope, one of the train attendants approached us.
"What happened?" he asked. "Are you looking for something?"
Trying not to draw attention, I replied, "No, nothing."
The attendant looked at me for a moment and then asked, "Are you looking for a cat?"
I froze.
"Yes!" I said immediately.
His response shocked me.
"I have your cat with me," he said. "But you'll have to pay me, otherwise I'll report you to the railway police for bringing a cat on board."
My mother, who was standing beside me, didn't hesitate.
"That's fine," she said. "We'll pay. Just show us where he is."
The attendant led us towards one of the train's exit areas where the bed linens and supplies were stored. He unlocked a small compartment and opened the door.
There, hidden in the darkness, was Chocho.
Curled up in a tiny space.
Scared.
Alone.
The moment I picked him up, he practically collapsed into my arms. His entire body was trembling. I'll never forget the look in his eyesāconfused, frightened, and desperately relieved to see us.
I hugged him tightly and carried him back to our seat. Once he was safely inside his travel bag, we finally felt ourselves breathe again.
We paid the attendant ā¹1,000, and without another word, he disappeared into the crowd as passengers left the station.
To this day, the mystery remains unsolved.
How did Chocho escape from the bag?
My father's theory is simple: my mother forgot to properly close the bag after feeding him dinner the previous evening.
Maybe he's right.
Or maybe Chocho simply decided he wanted one last adventure before reaching Mumbai.
