That Loony Lizard
I am in Delhi for Diwali and to say bye-bye to IIT Campus, the leafy academic campus once at the edges of 'New Delhi' now swallowed by the the behemoth that is the National Capital Region of Delhi today. It is the residential campus where my parents have lived for over three decades, travelling and working all over, kids in tow, but always coming back to the campus we knew as home. We love the place to bits along with the dogs, cats, mice, ants, peacocks, owls, cockroaches, spiders, wasps, mosquitoes, lizards and the occasional snake that have also made the place their home. As my sister says its a bit like being in the Australian Outback, once you block out the noise of the whizzing Delhi Airport-bound planes that is.
So I'm no stranger to the creatures that appear out of nowhere and disappear as suddenly. Like the mouse that found a friend's rucksack so tasty that it chewed the plastic strap right through the night. Or the colony of baby cockroaches that found a nice cosy home in the carved wooden camels in the the living room cabinet and the line of big ants that are, as I write this, trekking across the terrace with their prized possession: dismembered spiders.
Earlier this week, I decided to get some juice from the fridge. I wandered up to the fridge and yanked the door open (as you do). Before I knew it, a lizard resting on the outer crook of the fridge-freezer connecting rubber strip (why there ?!), hidden from view, leapt into the air and straight into the top shelf of the fridge. I yelled. It scurried up. I banged the side of the fridge. It scurried down. I banged some more. It scurried back up. I took a deep breath and stood there silently. No sign of L. I coaxed it - ' Chhipkali, please bahhar aa jaaaa....' [Lizard, please come out]. Pin-drop silence.
I shut the door and thought about the best way to break the news to my mum (who was already over-strained with the house move and monitoring renovation in the new flat). I decided that the lizard could wait a bit but we may have to empty the fridge in the next hour.
The phone rang. It was my sister. I asked her in my most casual tone if they had ever had a lizard in the fridge before. She screamed. I put her on hold and went back to the fridge, switched off the power, kept the door open. No sign of the lizard but then it was pretty dark in there and it could well have sneaked out. I left the door open, went back on the phone and convinced my sister that I had made it really easy for L to escape now.
About 10 minutes later I came back, decided it was 'All clear' and put the fridge back in action. Half an hour later (no sign of parents or sister yet) I headed back to the 'fridge area' of the dining room and tried to scrutinize the walls around me to see if it had made its way up them. Clearly, my conscience was bothering me now. At this point Laxmi, our domestic help arrived. I explained my dilemma. She agreed that there was danger that the lizard could still be inside. Strengthened by her presence, I said decisively that we must start cleaning out the fridge.When I said 'we', I really meant her. I tried to bravely pull out a few jars but each small sound made me squeal.
At this point, the parents arrived. Mum got into 'action mode' giving directions all around. We started from the top. Again when I say 'we' I mean mum and Laxmi with me as a jumpy spectator. No sign of Mr L. Then the 2nd shelf. All clear. Then the 3rd shelf- nothing suspicious. Everyone was getting pretty relaxed now. We were at the last shelf when we heard a 'plop' sound. We all screamed in unison. Laxmi pulled out the veggie drawer and behind it turned upside down was the lizard.
Yes I know. I froze a lizard. I'm prepared from my karmic retribution.
So I'm no stranger to the creatures that appear out of nowhere and disappear as suddenly. Like the mouse that found a friend's rucksack so tasty that it chewed the plastic strap right through the night. Or the colony of baby cockroaches that found a nice cosy home in the carved wooden camels in the the living room cabinet and the line of big ants that are, as I write this, trekking across the terrace with their prized possession: dismembered spiders.
Earlier this week, I decided to get some juice from the fridge. I wandered up to the fridge and yanked the door open (as you do). Before I knew it, a lizard resting on the outer crook of the fridge-freezer connecting rubber strip (why there ?!), hidden from view, leapt into the air and straight into the top shelf of the fridge. I yelled. It scurried up. I banged the side of the fridge. It scurried down. I banged some more. It scurried back up. I took a deep breath and stood there silently. No sign of L. I coaxed it - ' Chhipkali, please bahhar aa jaaaa....' [Lizard, please come out]. Pin-drop silence.
I shut the door and thought about the best way to break the news to my mum (who was already over-strained with the house move and monitoring renovation in the new flat). I decided that the lizard could wait a bit but we may have to empty the fridge in the next hour.
The phone rang. It was my sister. I asked her in my most casual tone if they had ever had a lizard in the fridge before. She screamed. I put her on hold and went back to the fridge, switched off the power, kept the door open. No sign of the lizard but then it was pretty dark in there and it could well have sneaked out. I left the door open, went back on the phone and convinced my sister that I had made it really easy for L to escape now.
About 10 minutes later I came back, decided it was 'All clear' and put the fridge back in action. Half an hour later (no sign of parents or sister yet) I headed back to the 'fridge area' of the dining room and tried to scrutinize the walls around me to see if it had made its way up them. Clearly, my conscience was bothering me now. At this point Laxmi, our domestic help arrived. I explained my dilemma. She agreed that there was danger that the lizard could still be inside. Strengthened by her presence, I said decisively that we must start cleaning out the fridge.When I said 'we', I really meant her. I tried to bravely pull out a few jars but each small sound made me squeal.
At this point, the parents arrived. Mum got into 'action mode' giving directions all around. We started from the top. Again when I say 'we' I mean mum and Laxmi with me as a jumpy spectator. No sign of Mr L. Then the 2nd shelf. All clear. Then the 3rd shelf- nothing suspicious. Everyone was getting pretty relaxed now. We were at the last shelf when we heard a 'plop' sound. We all screamed in unison. Laxmi pulled out the veggie drawer and behind it turned upside down was the lizard.
Yes I know. I froze a lizard. I'm prepared from my karmic retribution.
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