It was very early in the morning. The sun was just rising over the rooftops, turning everything it touched to gold. It shone straight into Radha’s room, and onto her bed, waking her up. Radha liked being woken up by the sun. She jumped out of bed and went straight to her window. ‘Good morning, sun!’ said Radha. ‘Aren’t you bright today!’

The cool morning breeze rustled the branches of the old peepul tree that grew outside Radha’s window. ‘Good morning, tree!’ said Radha. ‘I hope you had a good sleep last night!’

The sparrows that lived in the branches of the peepul heard Radha’s voice, and set up a great chittering and chattering, fluffing their feathers and hopping around from branch to branch. ‘Hello sparrows!’ laughed Radha. ‘I know you have lots to do today!’

 Down the street came Gangaram the milkman, in his white dhoti and blue shirt, singing loudly. The big cans of milk, strapped to both sides of his bicycle, clanked in tune. Radha watched as he rode up on his bicycle, balancing expertly, stopping with a flourish in front of her house. He propped his cycle against the garden wall, and unstrapping a can of milk, walked up to the front door, still humming under his breath.

 ‘Maji, milk!’ he called loudly. Radha heard her grandmother answer, ‘Be patient, Gangaram! I’m coming! Do you want to wake the whole house up?’ Radha giggled. Dadi, her grandmother, was making more noise than poor old Gangaram! Anyway, no one ever woke up that early in their house, no matter what, except Dadi, and sometimes Radha. Mummy and Papa wouldn’t wake up till 6:30 at least, and Rahul, her brother wouldn’t wake up at all if he had a choice.

 Radha could hear Dadi grumbling at Gangaram, ‘What is this, Gangaram? Everyday you add more water to the milk – if this continues I might as well fill my pitcher with water from the tap!’ Dadi had the same grumble everyday, and everyday Gangaram would murmur the same soothing reassurances, ‘Na, na, Maji, only milk, no water!’ Then, pretending to be hurt by Dadi’s accusation, he would add, ‘Would I cheat you, Maji?’

 Radha turned back to the window. One of Gangaram’s cans of milk had come loose and was slowly dripping its contents onto the road. A white puddle was forming around the bicycle’s rear wheel. Radha watched with interest, wondering whether a puddle of milk would be as much fun to splash in as a puddle of rainwater.

 Suddenly a small, grey shape darted out from under the bushes by the side of the road and began lapping at the milky puddle. It was a little kitten, thin and starved-looking, with big frightened eyes. At the very same moment, Gangaram turned round. ‘Ay, aay!’ he yelled, running towards the bicycle. ‘Ay, cat, run, shoo!’ shouted Gangaram, flapping hands and banging his can of milk. The poor kitten froze in terror – then ran, straight towards the peepul tree by Radha’s window, and huddled among the tangled roots, shivering in fright.

 Radha could hear Dadi soothing Gangaram, ‘Arre bhai, let it be, it’s just a poor little kitten!’

But Gangaram was still muttering angrily, ‘A whole can of milk spilled! Now I’ll be short again! I am cursed! Whatever shall I do?’

Dadi had no patience with grumbling, Radha knew. ‘Add some more water! That’ll make up for the milk you’ve spilled!’ said Dadi to Gangaram with an unsympathetic grin, and picking up her pitcher of milk walked back into the house.

 Radha was still watching the poor kitten, huddled among the roots of the peepul tree. She walked out of her room. ‘Dadi,’ she said, tugging at her grandmother’s sari. ‘That kitten is still there.’

‘Arre munni? Are you awake? That Gangaram, he makes such a racket!’

But Radha wasn’t listening. ‘Dadi, that kitten. She’s hungry. She’s still there. Can I give her some milk?’

Dadi was as fond of animals as Radha was, and very kind-hearted, even though she pretended to be very strict sometimes. She also knew a lot about animals. ‘No, Radha,’ she said, ‘we should not give that her any milk. Milk is bad for kittens and cats and gives them a tummy ache. But we can give her some water - she must be thirsty.’ She quickly poured some water into a little saucer and gave it to Radha.

‘Dadi, she must be hungry too,’ said Radha. ‘Can’t we also give her some food?’

‘Hmm,’ said Dadi thoughtfully, and opening the fridge, took out the boiled rice she had made for Radha’s dinner the previous night. ‘This will be alright for her,’ she said, and, after warming it gently so it wouldn’t be too cold, put some into another little dish. ‘Come on, let’s give your kitten some breakfast,’ she said with a smile.

Radha and Dadi carried the water and rice out into the courtyard. ‘Softly, munni, softly,’ said Dadi, ‘let’s not frighten the little thing.’ They crept quietly towards the peepul tree. The kitten still sat there, trembling, eyes large and wary. Radha and Dadi set the saucer of water and the little dish of rice onto the grass and then, just as quietly as they had come, they went back into the house.

 They ran into Radha’s window. The kitten still sat amongst the tangled roots of the peepul tree, and paid no attention to the food and water. ‘Oh, why doesn’t she drink some water?’ cried Radha. ‘She will feel so much better if she did.’ 

‘She will drink it in her own good time,’ said Dadi. ‘You can’t force animals, especially if they are as frightened as this little thing.’

Dadi went away to her puja room, and soon Radha heard her singing her bhajans, her little bell tinkling. The kitten hadn’t moved. A little later Radha could hear Dadi moving around in the kitchen, her puja over. She heard her mother’s voice, and then her father’s. ‘Hurry up, Billi,’ whispered Radha. ‘I want you to drink that water and eat up that rice before I have to go get ready for school!’

Almost as though she had heard her, the kitten walked up to the little dish of rice and sniffed it warily. She was painfully thin, and still very frightened. She looked around, her large dark eyes shining with suspicion. But she put her head down and ate up every grain of rice in that little dish, and then took a long drink of water. ‘Good girl,’ said Radha clapped her hands in relief.

From then on, every morning, Radha would ask Dadi for water and food for the kitten, and then both of them would creep out into the front courtyard and leave the dishes on the grass by the peepul tree. Slowly the kitten began to put on weight and grow. Its coat began to shine, and it no longer looked so frightened.

The kitten now began to trust Radha. She would no longer back away into the roots of the tree if Radha came out. ‘Billi, billi,’ Radha would call softly. The kitten would let her come right up to the tree, but wouldn’t let her touch it. ‘Leave her be, munni,’ Dadi would say. ‘She’ll come to you when she’s ready.’

One hot afternoon, when the children were still in school, the little kitten decided to venture out from among the roots of the peepul tree. She walked out into the street, sniffing under bushes, scrabbling under stones, looking for something to eat. A small boy was playing by himself on the side of the road. He should have been in school with all the other children, but he had decided to stay away that day. Now he was bored.

 The little boy saw the kitten, and called to it, ‘Aa, aa billi! Come here.’ The kitten stopped, suspicious. The boy sat very still, crouched on the grass. Suddenly, he lunged, and grabbed the kitten in his hot little hands. The kitten spat and scratched and miaowed and wriggled, but the boy held on tight. He pulled out a string from his pocket and tied it round the kitten’s neck. The kitten didn’t like it at all! It tried to bite the string off, and struggled to get it off its neck. But the boy had knotted the string very firmly.

 He set the struggling, scratching kitten down on the pavement and pulled at the string, dragging the kitten behind him. The kitten dug her claws into the ground; she fought and scratched and bit, but the boy was too strong, the string too well tied. The little animal was pulled along behind the cruel little boy, miaowing and crying in fear and fright. The boy laughed. He was no longer bored.

 Just then the bell rang announcing the end of school. Within seconds the street was full of children pouring out of the school gates. Radha ran out of the school gates. She had told all her friends about the kitten, her little Billi, and how she lived under the peepul tree. Her friends were as thrilled as she was about the kitten.  Radha had promised her best friend Suraj that he could put out food and water for the kitten the next time he came home to visit her.

 Suddenly the children saw the cruel little boy dragging the miaowing, frightened little kitten. ‘Hey, that’s Billi!’ cried Radha in shock. ‘Where’s he taking my Billi?’ Radha ran after the little boy, screaming at him to stop. She was so angry she forgot all that she had ever been told about not fighting with other children. Radha could run like the wind, and she was on top of the cruel little boy before he even realised what was happening.

‘Leave my Billi alone, you monster!’ she cried, pummeling the boy with her fists. ‘How dare you hurt her, you horrible little beetle!’ The little boy let go of the string in shock. He no longer had any time for kittens! All he wanted to do was get away as far as possible from this mad whirlwind of a girl who wouldn’t stop yelling and punching him! The boy ran away as fast as he could

Radha picked up her Billi and held her close. ‘Oh Billi, poor Billi,’ wept Radha. The kitten clung to Radha, shivering.

Suraj and the other children ran up. ‘Radha! Are you all right?’ asked Suraj in concern. ‘I know that little boy. He’s disgusting, always picking on animals!’ The children crowded round Radha and the kitten, muttering indignantly, and taking turns to hug Radha.

Soon the kitten felt better. Radha’s warmth and her gentle, soothing voice made her feel safe again. She stopped trembling, and poked her head out of Radha’s arms. ‘Oh what a dear!’ cried the children. The kitten stared at them, her big golden eyes shining in the afternoon sunshine. ‘Come on Billi, let’s go home!’ said Radha. ‘It’s getting late.’ The children said goodbye to Radha and her kitten, and scattered to their various homes. Only Suraj walked back home with Radha, just in case the horrid little boy came back again.

Radha ran in to the house with the kitten, and told Dadi all about Billi’s nasty experience. Dadi looked worried. ‘We can’t keep this little animal shut up in the house all day,’ said Dadi. ‘It would be cruel for cats like their freedom. She must be free to roam where she wants.’

 ‘Suppose we tell everyone in the neighbourhood to watch out for Billi?’ suggested Suraj. ‘That way there would always be someone keeping an eye on Billi even when Radha is in school.’

 ‘That’s a great idea!’ said Radha. ‘Let’s go and tell everyone now!’

 So the two children went from house to house, shop to shop, telling all their neighbours and friends about Billi and asking them to keep an eye on her.

 ‘Of course Radha!’ said old Mr. Mukherji, who spent all his time in a rocking chair on his front porch and was quite pleased to have a reason to do so.

 ‘With pleasure, Radha!’ said Mrs. Singh, who loved flowers and was always out in her garden digging and planting.

‘Never you fear, bitiya!’ said Maniram the vegetable vendor. ‘I’ll keep an eye on that little one!’

Even Gangaram the milkman agreed to help.

The little kitten became Radha’s Billi. She was free to wander the streets during the day, or even in and out of people’s gardens. Billi never lacked a meal again, for most people would put out dishes of water for her, or maybe scraps of roti or bread. She soon grew sleek and fat, and the bounce came back into her walk. Billi was no longer afraid of the world, and will never be again.

 Billi trusts Radha as much as it is possible for a cat to trust a human. No matter how much she has eaten during the day, Billi is always ready to gobble up the food that Radha puts out for her.

Radha says she is her Billi, but Billi is just Billi, never anybody’s to own. She can be found sauntering down the street, prowling around the marketplace, or perhaps sitting by old Mr. Mukherji’s rocking chair till the old man’s chatter bores her. Then Billi decides it is time for a nap, and curls up among the roots of the old peepul tree till Radha comes home from school.