Dear readers or non-readers of Cats of Kochi. You just bought this tote bag. Congratulations! Happy Cat Day to you! Everyday is cat day, you ask me why – Because I say so!
By buying this bag you’ve wandered into a story – whether you meant to or not. And, like all good stories, this one starts with a paper bag. Specifically: the Instakart paper bag that once held instant noodles and was now my hiding spot. Until my hooman, in a moment of catastrophic selfishness disguised as affection, woke me up .
“But why this bag?” I asked, my precious fluff slightly ruffled.
“You slept in this one so it smells like you,” he said.
“Correction,” I replied. “I was sleeping.”
“I'm going out and I need something that reminds me of you. Also, to be fair,” he said, with the clumsy optimism of someone who has never sharpened their claws on a potted plant, “I got you a new one.”
He handed me another paper bag. I was getting tired of this repeated cycle. Too tired to argue further (or perhaps too dramatic to care), I climbed inside the new bag and took a nap. When I woke up, not only was my hooman gone but so was my bag. My scent, my shape, the fragile imprint of a midday nap was stolen.
And that’s when I began to wonder:What if I could get him a bag he could carry every day? One that didn’t crumple with time or dissolve at the first hint of rain?One that carries my essence. A forever bag.
That’s where this story starts and thus began my quest. A journey across Fort Kochi, one pawstep at a time. I was going to make a bag that would contribute to the welfare of cats around the world through the means of comfortable naps and meanwhile also benefit the hoomans a significant amount.
I spoke to shopkeepers (some more open to share about their expertise than others to a cat). I learned the price of tote bags, the means of production, the ways of distribution. I read books by Cat Marx. I stole—sorry, withdrew—exactly the amount needed from my hooman’s wallet for this endeavor. And I set off to fulfill this enterprise, determined to gift him something beautiful.
Something worthy. Something that screams Bandit.
The fabric of the bag came from the kind hoomans at the Handloom Society situated in a small town in Aluva and their gentle, warm hands weaving sustainability into every thread. The weavers, mostly women, used their professional and artisanal hands to weave the kora cotton into a fabric that would not only be a wonderful scratch mat for my feline fellows but also a sturdy material for hoomans to carry.
The fabric was then stitched to bags at a women-led bag making unit at Palluruthy. The project was carried out by the fiercest paws I’ve ever met: a group of women whose strength reminded me of mother cats defending their young.
Then, they sent it to the printers to paint my beautiful face on it. It was done – my bag, sorry, our bag was made. And I padded over to pick it up.
And that’s how you ended up with this tote bag, close friend of feline fellow!And it’s not just any bag— it is a bag that began as a nap, traveled across Kochi, made and stretched by talented women and is now a precious gift to you. It’s a bag that recognizes and respects each and every human involved in its making.
With every bag, the hoomans who make it—every single one of them—get paid fairly. Not scraps. Not crumbs. Their fair share. Their biscuits.
I, Bandit—resident feline, nap enthusiast, and editor-in-mischief at Cats of Kochi—solemnly swear that each rupee from this bag’s journey goes back to the very paws that brought it to life. When you buy this bag you join us in creating a loop of sustainability that leaves no hooman behind.