Peek a boo with flicking tails and grotesque whiskers…..🐀For the last two days,my life has turned into a horror-comedy called Peek-a-Boo with a Rat. This skittish, jittery,ugly little creature with uglier whiskers, God knows how, when, or from where it sneaked into my home—has been ruling my nights, stealing my sleep, and sending me into fits of panic. One twitch of its dreadful tail, and I’m leaping like a gymnast, hopping on the sofas and beds as if the floor is on fire…My week end couldn’t have been more spoiled.Of course, I’m no killer, so the plan is simple: trap the beast. Enter our society helper, armed with a cage, a teeny slice of Golden Harvest bread (apparently, rodents are picky eaters), and plenty of bravado—or so I thought. He sets the trap like a pro, but when I ask him to poke around the cupboards, he freezes, muttering, “Madam ji, mujhe bhi darr lagta hai…” And there we were—two grown humans, terrified of a rat the size of a potato, as if it was a tiger we were dealing with.The days pass uneventfully, as I confine myself within the four walls of my room, with doors closed and mother in law making bold entry into the kitchen. But come nightfall, my ears are on high alert, straining to catch any sound from the trap. To my relief, I finally hear the familiar clinking of metal—proof that the little terror is caught. Yet, it’s the dead of night, and summoning Vijay at such an hour would be unfair. Caged or not, I dare not step into the kitchen; the very sight of the creature makes my skin crawl. I wait impatiently for dawn, and as soon as light breaks, Vijay arrives, dutifully carrying the captive far, far away—hopefully never to return. My mother-in-law suggests dabbing the rat with a bit of nail paint so we can identify it if it ever dares to come back. But truly, who would have the nerve to do that?The trap is reset, baited with another chunk of bread. The invader, undeterred, seems to wait for nightfall to resume its skittering parade. And once again, at the stroke of midnight, the cage rattles, signaling another capture. I exhale in relief, awaiting morning when we can bid goodbye to yet another unwelcome guest.But fate intervenes—Vijay is away. In his place, Mahinder, the garbage collector, is called to handle the situation. He steps up bravely at first, but as he approaches the cage, I notice his trembling limbs and beads of sweat forming on his brow. His nerves get the better of him, and in his clumsy handling, disaster strikes—the rat escapes, its tail the last to slip free. From the safety of my room, I shout at the top of my voice, “Pakdo! Throw a cloth over it!” But it’s too late. The creature vanishes, leaving Mahinder standing there sheepishly, twiddling his fingers. I give him a piece of my groggy mind, my frustration boiling over.A clarion call is made to the carpenter and plumber, who inspect every nook and cranny for possible entry points. Tiny gaps are sealed, cracks repair ed,doors adjusted, and until the runaway is caught, peace will not return to my home.And yet, as another midnight approaches, I hear the all-too-familiar clatter of the trap. Another night of waiting for dawn, another morning for Vijay to carry the menace away.This ordeal has not only laid bare my deep-rooted phobia for the skittish rodent but also revealed that even two strong, able-bodied men tremble at the sight of a tiny, twitching creature. Mahinder, perhaps wiser now, suggests using sticky mats to trap the rodents—where they remain glued and die—something he can deal with more easily.Meanwhile, I lose sleep, my mental peace, my sauntering around my home, and not to mention, a small fortune every time a trap is set and emptied… at least only when a week passes with the trap un occupied by the jittery creature will I stay composed …Amen to that!!!🐀🐀😖🦡