<p>I am an early riser not by choice but by compulsion. I have to get up early in the morning, quite reluctantly, because I run an English coaching centre at my house. The students turn up a few minutes before the class starts at 6:30 am. I do not prefer other family members, especially during the winter, to leave their beds and prepare my breakfast. </p>.<p>I generally take a heavy breakfast with a mug of piping hot coffee or tea before I continue giving tuition to two batches for more than three hours at a stretch. There is no recess between the two batches. Naturally, I have to prepare my breakfast myself during the winter months. </p>.<p>One morning last December, I became curious on seeing something like a slender rope on the kitchen floor under the sink. Though I switched on the kitchen light, I could not clearly discern what it was, as the sink cast a shadow in that particular corner.</p>.The tea that drank up the night.<p>I fetched a torch and focused on the object. My heart trembled with fear when I discovered that it was not a piece of rope. It was a very thin snake, about one foot long. I quickly came out of the kitchen to fetch a stick, and when I entered the room again, I was surprised that the snake did not glide away from that particular spot. </p>.<p>Closer observation revealed that the cylindrical, glossy black body with thin white crossbars distinctly marked it as a common krait, locally known as kalach, a highly venomous nocturnal snake. I know a bit about this snake, as many people in our locality have been bitten by it. </p>.<p>However, I was sure that the snake, badly thrashed on the head, was dead, as it did not stir even after I poked it with the stick. I was convinced that some neighbour must have beaten it to death and thrown it away. But what astonished me most was how the dead snake came into my kitchen.</p>.<p>Though I was relieved as the snake was dead, a wave of fear spiralled up my spine. I apprehended that a den of those venomous reptiles must have been in winter hibernation nearby. I immediately contacted a herpetologist in our town. He confirmed my identification of the species. He then searched thoroughly both inside and outside our house to assure me that there was no snake burrow. At last, he left, advising me to remain extra alert and, of course, not to kill one if found.</p>.<p>The mystery was solved one early morning when I saw a squirrel flash out in the wink of an eye through the ventilator where the exhaust fan was installed. A piece of wired mesh has now been fitted on the outside wall of the ventilator to block the passage of the squirrel. But the apprehension of a snake family still haunts me. </p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.<br></em><br></p>
<p>I am an early riser not by choice but by compulsion. I have to get up early in the morning, quite reluctantly, because I run an English coaching centre at my house. The students turn up a few minutes before the class starts at 6:30 am. I do not prefer other family members, especially during the winter, to leave their beds and prepare my breakfast. </p>.<p>I generally take a heavy breakfast with a mug of piping hot coffee or tea before I continue giving tuition to two batches for more than three hours at a stretch. There is no recess between the two batches. Naturally, I have to prepare my breakfast myself during the winter months. </p>.<p>One morning last December, I became curious on seeing something like a slender rope on the kitchen floor under the sink. Though I switched on the kitchen light, I could not clearly discern what it was, as the sink cast a shadow in that particular corner.</p>.The tea that drank up the night.<p>I fetched a torch and focused on the object. My heart trembled with fear when I discovered that it was not a piece of rope. It was a very thin snake, about one foot long. I quickly came out of the kitchen to fetch a stick, and when I entered the room again, I was surprised that the snake did not glide away from that particular spot. </p>.<p>Closer observation revealed that the cylindrical, glossy black body with thin white crossbars distinctly marked it as a common krait, locally known as kalach, a highly venomous nocturnal snake. I know a bit about this snake, as many people in our locality have been bitten by it. </p>.<p>However, I was sure that the snake, badly thrashed on the head, was dead, as it did not stir even after I poked it with the stick. I was convinced that some neighbour must have beaten it to death and thrown it away. But what astonished me most was how the dead snake came into my kitchen.</p>.<p>Though I was relieved as the snake was dead, a wave of fear spiralled up my spine. I apprehended that a den of those venomous reptiles must have been in winter hibernation nearby. I immediately contacted a herpetologist in our town. He confirmed my identification of the species. He then searched thoroughly both inside and outside our house to assure me that there was no snake burrow. At last, he left, advising me to remain extra alert and, of course, not to kill one if found.</p>.<p>The mystery was solved one early morning when I saw a squirrel flash out in the wink of an eye through the ventilator where the exhaust fan was installed. A piece of wired mesh has now been fitted on the outside wall of the ventilator to block the passage of the squirrel. But the apprehension of a snake family still haunts me. </p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.<br></em><br></p>
