An uninvited guest everywhere. , Photo credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto
It was late evening in my early research student life. After mailing my supervisor about the completion of my tasks, I was dismissed for the day. Packing my charger and earphones, I was about to leave the cabin. My mom called me to inquire about the day and warned that if I didn’t have lunch again, she wouldn’t talk to me. Mothers and mosquitoes never stop flaring up.
Before hanging up, I said, “Okay, it’s eight o’clock, the security guard will lock the scholar’s room, I have to go, bye.” Swaying a mosquito to death on my right hand, just above my wrist, I took a shower and ran to my flat. Later for dinner, I video call my mother to help me cook dinner, “Add three glasses of water to the rava, no less; Shake well,” she said. I miss my mother’s food. Ahh! Then, a mosquito, cha!
I remember when I was in fourth grade, I had a lump on my cheek. All this happened due to the bite of a mosquito. “Take care of yourself, boy,” the science teacher told me. By the way, I would have lost one mark in biology if I had not chosen female anopheles over other mosquitoes in the MCQ section of one mark questions. Every single mark in board exam matters for my school. The scars didn’t worry my mother, nor did the mosquitoes; For them, it’s always “diet”.
Not even for me, then I realised, after a few years, in college, during Shakespeare’s hour, the professor discussed current affairs one day. Perhaps because of the then India-China face-off in the Galvan Valley. They told us that two persons can meet the Prime Minister directly without an appointment, one the Finance Minister and the other the Defense Minister. “But, what about the mosquito, sir? Does it require an appointment?” He never had the courage to be afraid and think, ‘To bite or not to bite?’ before sucking my blood for its meal.
“Are you eating or not,” cried the mother. “That’s too much for one person, Mom.” Mother disconnected the call only after I had eaten. The big job of washing dishes is never without deep thought. A few days ago, I saw tweets on Twitter praising a picture of Rajinikanth, Rishabh Shetty watching a mosquito bat at his house. Will I still get a mosquito net on my 25th birthday? I don’t mind being an innocent murderer again. After swatting a mosquito I can probably say with some compassion, “RIP, my friend.” But what to do, dengue is still worse, and “even Rajinikanth can’t get rid of mosquitoes”.
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