It was the day flowing water was found on Mars. Women from Chennai’s lower-middle-class area were queuing up at Sriharikota with multi-coloured plastic water-pots. ‘There better be enough water for all, or Mars will know what ‘red’ looks like!’ This was also the day Nepal’s Constitution was deemed unfavourable for ethnic groups. In a few hours, Volkswagen’s CEO would apologise in ‘every way’ for ‘screwing up’ and then immediately say, ‘Enjoy the evening, up next, Lenny Kravitz!!!’
It was 6 am and Raghu (name changed to conceal identity. It was actually me) walked drearily out from the bedroom to the over-bright hall, wondering where it was itching and where he was supposed to scratch. It would be another half-an-hour before he woke up fully and hopefully by then, there would be a tumbler of filter coffee, gravity-defying froth forming a cubist sculpture a few centimetres above the rim, and the sylph-like vapour dancing out and up in a languid – COCKROACH!
Raghu (name changed to conceal…..) looked like a deer caught in the headlight thinking happy but overly private thoughts about tall grass and tummy rubs. But physiologically, Raghu’s (name concea….) blood cortisol level spiked, blood rushed to his extremities (away from his head), his palms drew pearls of sweat, recording a high galvanic skin response and he was poised to run, his pupils dilated, or scream, whichever happened to happen first. Such physiological responses are instinctive and help save an animal in trouble.
Sadly, Raghu was not a deer and he wasn’t used to running. At all. There were no athletes in his family, at least seven generations up and across the family tree (more like an overgrown bush than a tree, really). And so the beautiful series of species-saving bodily changes resulted in; ‘Gruheh?!’
‘I said cockroach! There! Killit!’
Can you imagine a worse way to start the day than to go after a cockroach with a hawai chappal?
The cockroach belonged to the blattidae family, whose family tree, by the way is way more impressive than Raghu’s, spanning over 320 million years. It was used to running to evade all kinds of hooves, paws, claws, feet, wooden slip-ons and finally, chappals).
Raghu, still squinting slightly from the light and the overall disorienting lack of caffeine thwacked the ground with footwear. The chappal missed its mark. The cockroach ran behind a stainless steel drum full of pappad and other condiments. Raghu could feel a pair of eyes burning a large ‘L’ in bold capslock at the back of his neck.
That did it! He was man enough to admit that cockroaches freaked him out. Especially before coffee (UN-fair!!). He looked at her and said, ‘why should I ‘killit’ all the time? For once, why don’t you.
First-one-to-ask-wins-and-so-I-win-and-so-you-killit.
Undeniable logic. GODDAMNIT!
Raghu hoped it wasn’t the flying variety. That would truly make his day.
(Vikram Venkateswaran is a freelance writer, TV producer and media consultant. Headings, titles and captions are his kryptonite. He lives in Madurai and is occasionally struck by the feeling that the city likes him back.)
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