Pick on someone your own size

It was the month of June. The monsoon gods were benevolent than ever. Rain mercilessly lashed the place.

All seemed to be good until one day we spotted 'it'. At Different places. Different times.

'It' was ..

a tail's end...it drove us to our wit's end when it happened to be there for one moment and ceased to exist for another,

a dash from one room to the other...my hopes were dashed when my mother casually gave it a name 'A Rat!'.

Well 'it' was a tiny lil rodent... that had decided to visit our home and unleash all doom!! And doom it was...perturbed sleepless nights ...I didn’t sleep that night or the next or the nights after that ... covered myself from head to toe in two bed sheets, skipped the mandatory (until then) midnight leak. Scared to bits by the slightest movement or touch, I refused to move around the house without a 'chaperone'.

My peace of mind was 'shattered'...The prospect of returning from school unnerved me. The prospect of leaving the house for school was a welcome relief. I knew I couldn’t keep up with these extremes of emotions for long!

I begged my mother to find and kill the rodent. Tried my best to convince my grandparents that there was an 'uninvited visitor' in the house, who had decided to stay longer than expected. The only outcome of my pleas was some rat poison cakes placed in 'strategic' locations, all untouched. And that was the humble and simple first step of 'Operation Smoke Out' !

As 'amateurs in the game', my sister and I were shown samples of the rat poison cake, instructed not to 'touch' or 'taste' or 'smell' them ( what was anyway the possibility of eating a bright blue bar that resembled the 'Rin' bar???). The locations were disclosed to us in great secrecy and hushed tones lest the little rodent would eavesdrop on us hidden in 'bunkers' behind the cupboard or under the bed.

And then one 'fateful' day... I woke up listening to bits and pieces of discussions. Words like 'chickpea', 'water', 'cake' , 'blue' were interspersed in the conversations. My mother had left some chickpea soaked in water overnight. And the little visitor had sampled quite a lot of them. Well wasn't 'it' messy!! Bits of the half - 'devoured' chickpea lay all over the kitchen floor and in some parts of the home. What is worse the water in the container had turned blue!! (We had heard of water turning into wine but not blue!). My mother took a resolve to beat out 'whoever' had ever so even dared to lay a finger (or a tail) (or a gnawing tooth) on her chickpea. Well all that was good to hear and know, but I didn’t quite expect anything.

That evening when I was in my room, I heard some noises. ..in my room!I ran out and claimed, 'The rat is in my room...I know I know for sure!!' Mother dismissed me at the very instant - 'You are just imagining things.' She asked my sister, the trusted lieutenant, to go to the room along with me. Barely 2 minutes later were we both out! And the 'Smoke Out' squads were at work.

My grandmother was at the helm screaming out instructions to my grandfather, the only brave one, who volunteered to thrash the rodent to death with a stick that was used to brush away cobwebs. He thumped the stick as he marched along, in tune to my grandmother's bellowing voice. We prodded and pushed my father behind him. He reluctantly hobbled behind him, keeping a good distance. My sister and I had already climbed onto the diwan in the living room and clung onto each other. My mother kept scanning the room to monitor movements of the enemy...to check if the enemy had passed us or not.

Thump! Thump! Thud! Thud! Thump!

Some more thump-ings and thud-dings.. No idea about the whereabouts.

And just as fingers were beginning to point accusingly at my sister and me for making up stories. Grandfather called out 'There it comes!' We tried to peer into the room from where we were standing, but never once relinquishing our bases.

What followed was my father dashing out from the room screaming 'ahh..right behind me' .

Close on his heels was a tiny ball whizzing off at the speed of light or so. It went aimed right at my grandmother as she stood in the way. She was plump and had a roundish figure. I often wondered how she balanced but I was proven wrong! In display, was a 'ballet' performance by her, twirling from left to right, then right to left on toes, all the while dishing out instructions to anyone and everyone who cared to listen in the pandemonium unleashed.

Well the little guy seemed to have outwitted us, but I was so relieved that I could sleep in peace in the one 'rodent- free- for- sure' room in the whole 'rodent infested' house. I think I was going over the board but I really could do with a peaceful night's sleep.

That night the rat made sure my grandparents didn’t sleep. I woke up to yet another uncertain day...for in the morning, my grandmother confirmed the dreaded - there were more than one!! She had pledged something to St George to get rid of the rats.

When I dragged myself back to home that day, my mother stood waiting for me, with her best big smile on. Finally the fish, oops the rat, did bite...not just one but two of them. One was caught and thrashed while roaming around the house in an intoxicated gait. The other was spotted in the unused old washing machine. The dead 'bodies' were in the yard awaiting burial 'rites' from my father who was searching for the tools.

Gleeful that the 'torture' had come to an end, I ran towards the spot and shook my fist at the remains-

'Pick on someone your own size'!

And marched back, ever the brave heart! ;)