It was however only when I started my shower singing ‘Oh Willie ol’ bird’, and swaying to the overwhelming musical rhapsody, that I spotted a cockroach on the wall. Instantly I stopped singing. It somehow occurred to me that the cockroach liked the song and was dancing to it.
My roommate, Varun, who was struggling to finish his beautiful dream, all this while was thanking the gods that were so merciful to snatch away my voice in mid-euphony to grant him some peaceful sleep. Yet as it so often happens ironically, he woke up to ask me why I had stopped singing, perhaps with the wish to make sure that I could not sing anymore on mornings.
In my horror, I lost all coherence of speech and what I said slips my usually perspicacious mind, but I vaguely recollect saying something that took my friend into deep waters.
“What’s the matter old man?” asked Varun, sounding most concerned.
Walking slowly to the door of the bathroom I opened it carefully to pop only my head and in a whisper apprised him of the situation.
“Grave indeed!” was his remark
“Grave? My friend, I wish you used the words of the English language more liberally. Yet, I implore you to tell me the solution quickly. Let’s not waste any time. I still have to complete my song.”
With an air of nonchalance he, handed me a broom and turned around. Bemused by this untoward behavior, I flashed back “What the dunce do I do with this broom?”
“Kill the intruder.”
“Are you crazy? Cockroaches are even more dangerous when dead. One that is alive may even run away if you scare it using the appropriate techniques. A dead one will go on lying in it’s own place, motionless. The worst are the half-dead ones. You think that they are dead and are just about to pick them up to throw them away, when they would move their nasty legs in the air, as if given a chance, they would climb over you. No, my dear, you’ve got it wrong. I cannot do it.”
Varun was rolling over the floor uncontrollably, perhaps delighting in the humor of my predicament and I had the nasty feeling that the creepy creature was listening to this exchange of words and gladdened by the fact that I would probably never kill it, it was perhaps crawling closer to me. I turned around to see where it was and was perplexed to find it missing. I must digress here to note that missing cockroaches are by far, the most dangerous of all. I did not mention this earlier, perhaps in haste to complete my words. It may not occur at first thought, but with a missing cockroach, one can never know where it is. It may as well be climbing your leg! Or may be on your head!
I rolled my eyes searching every inch of the wall in front of me and turned rightwards scanning the surface to make sure the pest was nowhere. Satisfying myself that it wasn’t to be seen for the moment and that perhaps it had found something more interesting than me, I turned to the door to notify my friend, who was perhaps still rolling over the floor, when to my horror and utter dismay, I found the cockroach right on the door. It was wagging one of it’s antennas and salivating the other in the most gruesome and yet so disgusting a manner that I stood there watching it carefully. Suddenly it flapped its wings and made straight for my head. I ducked and saw it fly to the opposite wall.
Shouting an alarm I opened the door and ran out, slamming it behind me as if I escaped from a labyrinth full of minotaurs. I ran from my bedroom to the hall, opened the door to the house and ran straight onto the terrace, stark naked, in a manner not unlike Archimedes, the only discernible difference being, that I was bellowing, “Help!” instead of “Eureka!”
At this juncture, the chronicler beleives that a brief description of the penthouse would serve to explain the preceding and the following paragraphs to avoid any confusion of details. My penthouse is on the fourth floor of a building and the terrace is practically our verandah. My room is one of the three bedrooms we have in this penthouse and happens to be quite spacious and well ventilated while the door to the house opens to the terrace.
In my fright and angst, I had completely forgotten that I had made myself a spectacular caricature for public viewership. My neighbor's daughter, Pooja was on the terrace and here I was stark naked, running in fright, screaming "Help!". It might be revelatory to the reader to know that this college girl is in no way attractive (to me), but unfortunately, has had a historical record of making quite a few passes on me. Seeing me on the terrace, running around carelessly naked, perhaps satisfied her curiosity to an extent, but like a professional actress, with the expertise of one having perfected the art over years of practice, she posed alarmed and nauseated, when her mother was climbing the stairs to join her.
Seeing me naked, her poor mother, fainted on the spot. But seeing her over the terrace, I forgot all about the cockroach and instead concerned myself with this bigger fright. I stopped in my way, and shut my mouth, in almost the same way as I stopped singing, when I first spotted the cockroach. It then then dawned upon me, just like Adam and Eve became suddenly aware of their shame, that I hadn't worn anything and in my fright had forgotten to carry my towel. Blushing red and shyly walking away, I tried to keep my calm and signalled to Pooja to keep quiet.
'A friend in need is a friend in deed' they say, and presently Varun came out to the terrace, walking with my towel in hand, a wry smile on his face telling me that he enjoyed my plight and a concerned look telling me that he understood my unquestionable fright upon seeing Pooja's mother. Grabbing the towel from him, I resumed the status of a respectable gentleman (almost) and looked at Pooja apologetically and began to explain.
"I'm sorry...." I began. "There was a really frightening flying cockroach in my bathroom and it drove me away!"
I am known to be good at cutting a long story short, and there it was. Succint and clear. No more words were required to make my story plausible without getting into the details. Surely if I had tried to explain in greater detail, she would not have understood, for Pooja is known to have an IQ level that is fifty points lesser than that of a jelly fish - and a stunned one at that!
"Okay! I'll.... take my mom back to our apartment...." she stammered and slipped away as if I were a giant cockroach trying to roach-handle her, if roach-handle is the word I wish to use. At this juncture I must mention that cockroaches are, in my opinion the scariest of creatures - with the exception of Pooja's mother, of course. I would perhaps have the courage kill a tiger, but faced with a cockroach, I wilt like you've never known.
Finally, I went back into the penthouse, water still dripping from my swarthy body. Still thinking of the danger of the cockroach in the bathroom, I told Varun, "I'll have to use the other bathroom today, chum. You saved me at the nick of time. What happened to the cockroach? "
"Still there. I understand your problem, my boy. That's why I present to you this insecticide spray. " he replied encouragingly.
I beleive that I should not describe the killing of a cockroach, especially since the environment activists might find it most displeasing and would perhaps sue me for that. It is rather surprising that people have time and money to sue an innocent man, who just intends to have a good bath, when there are so many more problems in this world. Yet, I conclude here the saga of my tryst with this demon. It may be added as a sidenote that I have never sung 'Oh Willie ol' bird' in the bathroom again and have made a tacit resolve to reserve it for moments of nostalgia and friendship of the 'good old days'.
