Colour tattoo of a grey tabby cat's face framed by an ornate orange, red and blue mandala on the outer thigh.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Cat portrait in an ornate mandala on a thigh

Neo-trad · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A grey tabby cat's face sits at the centre of a circular mandala with a red headpiece and a jewelled, ornamental collar. The cat is rendered with soft shading and detailed fur, while the surrounding pattern uses fine linework and dotted detail. Orange, yellow, red and blue ink dominate the design, which fills the frame against a car seat background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Vasquez Lane had ever seen the Begum's cat leave the roof before the lamps were lit, so when Mirela found the gate open at dusk she assumed the worst. She climbed the forty steps with a dish of pilchards held out in front of her like a lantern, calling the cat by the name the old cook had given it, Sultana, which nobody had ever used to its face.

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The cat was not on the roof. It was in the spice loft, sitting on a chest of indigo cakes with its tail wrapped round its feet, and it looked at her the way the Begum used to look at tax collectors. Around its neck was the collar that had come from Lahore in a box of silk, nine rows of garnet and brass that chimed softly whenever it turned its head. The red headpiece had slipped a little to one side. Mirela fixed it with two fingers, the way she had seen the Begum do on feast days, and the cat allowed it.

Below them the city was coming awake: the call from the mosque on the river side, the tram bell, somebody's wireless in a window playing a dance tune from before the war. Mirela understood then that the cat had not run off. It had come up to count the lights, the way the Begum counted the rooftops from her balcony every night until the night she did not come down.

She set the pilchards on the chest. Sultana ate one, delicately, and then went back to watching the street. Fine, Mirela told it. You keep the keys and I'll keep the dinner.

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