So cockroaches descended upon my kitchen almost at the same time as the virus descended upon...well... everything. It was as if they were in a bilateral agreement to bring the humans of this house down to our knees. much like with the virus, we lay down our weapons (nonexistent ones) without a fight. The unilateral battle raged on for weeks...the roaches relentlessly recruiting fresh stock every day till they reduced our territory of operation to literally just the gas burner. I swear if they didn't fear being burnt in the burner fire, they wouldnt spare that too. My enough is enough moment arrived when few cockroaches decided to take a dive into the poha (lockdown special) I was cooking. I looked up the chimney duct and few of them stared back at me. That precise moment made me wonder the point of my birth, graduation, post graduation, fancy clothes, make up, creative meetings, marriage, child, breathing...Before the moment could overwhelm me into thinking that I was born to be subsumed by roaches and viruses, I snapped out.
I called the building management, told him I have a very serious illness which gets triggered by roaches in the kitchen. (A crucial learning of pandemic times- you say the word "ill" and it gets you attention like not even chilled Rooh Afza gets in sweltering summer) The MC got into action, meetings were held, discussions done till at that final divine moment (i swear it was a full moon day), my intercom buzzed. It was the management committee head granting us permission to call in the pest control team. The only humans weaponised to deal with roaches. I danced my way into the kitchen sprinkled some food all around it, announced with banging thalis that the last supper was being served to the damned intruders who thought they could over take my life and its many(??) purposes.
