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Saturday, 18 June 2011

The expedition to murder-ofy.

It happens in one minute. But the impact it leaves upon my soul is for an eternity.

This extremely weird happening happens in my kitchen. One dark night in my kitchen. The only place which holds my ever-tasty, always-in-demand snacks. My whole kunba is asleep at the sinful hour of 2 am so i tiptoe slowly out of my room. The whole house is quiet and one can quite clearly hear the seeti of our gali ka chawkidaar echoing somewhere in the silence.

I reach the door of my kitchen and this is where the battle starts.

The main pressing issue is the heat. Because of heat, the non-permitted owners of the inside-of-cabinets-filling and the famous habitants of oven-ke-peechay-ka-area come out for a nocturnal stroll. Unluckily, thats the time when i take my coffee and my snack.

So i enter. All armed with a chappal in one hand and a mortein spray [it rarely works on these pests, but creative marketing gets it in our rashan ki list] in the other. The other bara marhala is the switchboard. Sometimes, i really wonder WHAT the architect of my ghar was thinking when he/she decided to place the switchboard right next to the door. No, not the open side. The HINGES side. So, YES, i have to open the door, go behind it, yes, in this andhera room, and THEN switch on the tubelight. Ab philips ki ho ya sogo ki, jalti thori dair say hi hai.  ;)


The room lights up. I can see the bartan washed and stocked in the rack. The oven clean. The tokri holding all the miscellenaeous stuff. Everything clean. UNTIL.

I see one tiny pest, aka cockroach, roaming on the counter in one its glorified moods. Moods i say because i can see his antlers hopping up and down. The whole anatomy of a cockroach is weird. It itself is brown. Burgandy type sometimes. Khoon safed hai [what family lives they have, obviously evident] and legs are so thin. But. urgh. Not gonna describe that.


Well, then after i had my nishana of chappal and the spray right above the insect's at-ease body. it slithered thora sa. And *phataaack*. Squished. Dead.

Yeh sub to hogaya. But the feeling of being a murderer [The way Rihanna says it, "muurrghderaarr"] is very scary.

After i kill the pest. Tub all the humanity comes in.

'Us becharay ka bhi ghar hoga'
'Us becharay ki bhi life hogi'
'Us becharay ko bhi shawq hoga outings ka, just like mujhe hai'
'Us becharay ke bhi friends hongay, and when together they would also love to party and hang out'
'Well, the party they would do would be in my kitchen, on my food'

You notice the wavering in the humaniti-esm here?

Well, it gets better.

'Us becharay ki biwi hogi, who would be waiting for him'
'How will they bury him now, he's all squished, thanks to my chappal'
'Us becharay kay bachay bhi hongay, how sad will they be when they find this..'

Wait. That means that the cockroach's adam's family is still out there at the back. And because unka khoon safed hota hai. They would be out again. They are millions in number. One death will not harm. Karachi wala hi scene hai. ONLY one death on news is a blessing. The cockroach's khandan MUST be squished. ONE BY ONE.

Notice how the instantly anay wali humanity ended instantly only? With the cockroaches, it is this way only. I feel a bit dukhi after i see the atma-hutya. But the fact that this set of species is roaming around and creating gandagi gets me agitated. And then. Yes, HAPPY with my success of a assassiner. :D

Notice the anger here?

Well. its only another sighting of another cockroach which ignites my jazba of a clean kitchen and pulls the lever of my arm and *phattaaack*. Yes. i Kill. I am A murderer. But for a good cause.

Just like them gun-walay waziristan tribesmen say.


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