JOIN USSurrounded by family that relishes sci-fi movies and those little green men with lemon-sized eyes, more than the piping hot spread at the dinner table, I have wondered often times what the family would do when faced with curiously-shaped men and mammals. While I still have not found a clue to my lingering doubt, I did get an insight as to what to expect in the event of the home being intruded by a creature that ought to probably be somewhere else in our Swachch Bharat.
With my better-half out on a business dinner, it was one of those peaceful evenings. I was in an upbeat mood as my culinary capabilities escaped the critical analysis that usually leaves me feeling much like the stone-faced participants of the Masterchef series, when brutally challenged for the flavours and spices prudently used. Spared of the formidable list of how the menu could have been a tad tastier, smoother and richer, I looked forward to some quiet time with a book. About to close the kitchen and head to my study, I spotted an oddly-shaped black string sticking out of a cabinet. Curiosity getting the better of my scruples, I gallantly opened the drawer. Out jumped the furry creature, as black as ebony and as sinister as Darth Vader.
The next thing I knew, I turned into an avatar of our PT Usha. Sprinting, I ran for cover and comfort from my two children upstairs. Convincing myself that I would return with a brave convoy to capture the encroaching enemy, I pleaded for support. Unfortunately, my two kids, on hearing what I had to tell them, turned pale and black, now resembling a bit of my unwelcome guest in the kitchen, and scrambled to their rooms, leaving me single-handedly to face the crisis. Picking up courage, I gaily embarked with a new-found valour to drive away the black beast myself.
No sooner than I picked up a stick and headed to the kitchen, I realised the fundamental error I had made in leaving the kitchen door wide open and heading upstairs. The little villain was nowhere to be found and the whole house downstairs became a stage for his hide-and-seek. With desperation as my only companion, I had to make the SOS call. For as much as we wives have proved ourselves to be self-sufficient superwomen, there comes along vulnerable times; times when these handy men get to have their field day to gloat a bit of their indispensability, thanks to nasty rodents, rickety furniture, malfunctioning gadgets, clogged pipes and sometimes even peeping Toms.
Once my husband prematurely rushed back from his business dinner to restore the rat-ravaged home, it was difficult to say who the actual hero was. The more he banged, shoved, pushed, tweaked and shook every furniture, cabinet and enclosure in the house, the more resilient our rodent got. Giving up, we went to bed restless and apprehensive over the new member downstairs.
Early the next morning, my son’s screech woke up the household. Nestled in a nook cozily between a cabinet and the wall, we spotted the black mass. Brainstorming and then some innovative thinking got us to an out-of-the-box idea: we got a card-board box and lured the motionless mouse into it. Falling prey to the conspiracy, the mouse hopped in. Quickly sealing the carton, we then transported it to the nearest nullah to reunite the little devil with its family and rubbish in our land of Swachch Bharat!