Fire and Mice

Yesterday I was reading about a ghastly episode of a man who set himself on fire and blocked the door while his daughters, wife and father died. and immediately I imagined my father... on fire... blocking the entrance of my bedroom. I also imagined some possible remedies...1. a bucket of water in my room. (the last time I insisted on keeping a bucket of water near me was years back when Madhuri Dixit sat on the stairs with a blind child in a pre-diwali "stay safe" ad.) ...coming back to my father in flames...I also imagined having to fight my way out of the room...opening a window so that I don't suffocate etc etc.

I was rescued from this train of thought when my father stormed my room and picked up every hanky that I had used last week and grumbled why I hadn't given them for washing ....(yes I use "cheleder" rumal because those tiny, floral nyaka "meyeder" rumals don't work for me). Anyway I realised my father might not set himself ablaze because the things that bother him are not even remotely close to a debt of 80 lakhs...they are -

1.Why are the keys not in the right place?...a burglar might enter and rob the house of valuables like an out-of-work microwave, two bulky televisions etc..

2.Why the coffee cup is not in the sink? the cups will be stained (OH_MY GOD!!) ...and

4. WHERE is the newspaper? ...of course it is with his wife who reads the entertainment section and keeps it beside her pillow while the other insignificant stuff lies unread on the sofa...(I read newspapers at night). My father likes the ENTIRE newspaper arranged properly, he might not read all of it...but it HAS to be together.

With such grave concerns, I do not think he will set himself on fire anytime soon. I'm right , right?

Also 3 rats were mercilessly killed in my house last week. First my father dismissed me saying that I must have been in a delusion and "it" must have been some lizard.

Then, when I said "it" was climbing up the curtain , he said "they" don't "climb"...then when the teeth marks on the soap confirmed their existence (poor coap eating rats), they were killed (poisoned) .My father obviously refused to admit that he was wrong and he devised a new explanation -- "they" were of a "gecho" type...the ones who know how to climb, unlike the non-gecho type, who don't. I give up!

This was also a rather "happening" week. My dada and boudi visited us and my boudi was drinking tea when I discovered a dead baby cockroach in her cup. Instead of apologising, my parents started debating when the baby cockroach could have landed in that cup, after all it had NEVER happened before.This piece is to warn you .Don't visit us, and definitely don't stop for tea.