Hey friends, my name is Jan Kitsribevi and I am here to present a fiction poem, Makhavati, the Pliestry Cat. This poem is recreated by my sir, Dr. Tharvath Roshche. The original poem was written by Sir T. S. Eliot as Makhavati, the mystery cat. So here it goes. Makhavati was a Pliestry Cat. He had blisters on each floor. For he was the hardened criminal, we daily defied the law. Police, people, detectives, old child, but tried in vain. For when they reached the scene of crime, he watched them with disdain. Makhavati, Makhavati, there was no one like Makhavati. He mustered hope to break each law with abandon and audacity. He twisted laws of nature as if he cared for them for fig. For him the sense of order was like a useless piece of twig. He had given Chopra, a retreat, and a hamper in front. You would search him in the hole, you would hunt him in the world. You would hide behind the barrel, or you would lose himself in the attic. You could search him everywhere till you got a totally frantic. Makhavati was a ginger cat. He looked to all in sublime. You would know him if he saw him, for his grin smacks of crime. He had a long tail, sharp claws and glossy oabing coat. But he had no mercy at all, when he swit him, he smowed. Makhavati, Makhavati, there was no one like Makhavati. For he was to devil in flesh and blood, a master of brutality. You might have seen him on rooftops or in bananas or on stairs. But when a crime was discovered, he was busy elsewhere with his affairs. His demeanor was of a cat, contented with his life, but his misdeeds clearly hinted, a strong internal strife. When the kitchen was ransacked, all he spotted a broken glass. Makhavati was responsible, but he wouldn't be there alas. When there were smudges on paintings or scratches on your walls, a clothes ripped to shreds and mud on your shoulders, for sure it was Makhavati who had just finished his tea and run away slimy as while he was in need. Makhavati, Makhavati. There was none like Makhavati, but he committed every act with grace, fun and alactivity. Even when he was caught once, he just sat there sucking lime. There was no surprise he was caught, then Napoleon of crime. Thank you.