Mud mud ke na dekh

Given the way houses are constructed in India, there are enough cracks along the walls and under doorways for curious fauna of all sizes to drop in on an unsuspecting mom and say hello.

Spiders clamber along our kitchen walls; lizards, the size of alligators, mock my humans from crannies; and armies of ants march methodically along grout lines, lured by the smell of rasam powder and idli crumbs.

“Eeeek!” screams Kuki, every time she spots an ant as large as the tip of my nose.

“Don’t worry, they don’t do anything,” say the humans, flicking them away like carrom discs.

“Get away! Shoo!” she yells at flies, as though they’re obedient dogs who listen to their masters.

“Aaaaaargh!” shrieks mom, when she spies a scurrying lizard in her kitchen. She runs out ashen-faced, seriously wondering about her mental framework that willingly traded a safe cocoon for a reptilian paradise.

“You moved here knowing fully well there are lizards,” says dad, sweeping out a portly specimen that finds its way back into the house in 30 minutes. “You need to get used to them.”

If the offending creatures were furry with soulful eyes, mom would’ve been the first person to coo at them, much like an Indian film heroine cuddles white kabootars while breaking into a song.

The law of attraction ensures that mom’s day begins and ends with a few of these pesky pests. From the moment she awakens and spots a baby gecko smaller than her pinkie on the window, to the gnarly lizard couple by the front door, as fierce-looking as temple yaalis, mom’s days and nights are filled with visions of these vile creatures. So much so that even black mustard seeds clinging to a diced potato or a curly cabbage in her favorite curry are starting to resemble the beady eyes of a creepy crawly.

“Ho, ho!” laughed the uncle next door when mom jumped out of her skin and pointed to a chocolate brown lizard slithering along his wall. “Wonly people from the You-yes are afraid of lizards. They are like our pets now.”

Indeed, the children have christened the regulars they see more often than the neighborhood kids. There’s “Cubby” who lives in a cupboard in the kids’ room; “Wally” who lives on the front wall; and, “Mr. and Mrs. Lizard” who live on separate patio lights and make nocturnal conjugal visits to each other.

“Did you know lizards bring subhiksham to a house?” mom was informed. “You can’t kill them because they’re Brahmins. They are supposed to bring prosperity.”

You hear that, dad? Rest easy now. You don’t have to look for a job anymore.