When mosquitoes don't bite...

For the record, i've got six tattoos (seven, depending on how you look at it) under my skin. They don't make me a better person or a member of  a gang. [Related: I won't mind being a member of a Russian-mafiosi-with-a-desi-touch group where everybody else fears me and my tattoos.] Coming back to reality, none of my artwork seems to have impressed my parents so far—not even the one that has both their names mentioned in it. Regardless, i somehow feel vindicated by my choice to go under the needle. Besides, what more can a son do to express his love to those who are convinced that he's a perennial underachiever? Anyway, i digress. Everyday we discover something new. Not in the way fire or faith was found but somewhat close. Like the other night, i woke up to an itchy acidic experience only to confront my worst nocturnal problem after sleeplessness: mosquito bites. These wannabe-lesions appear somewhere stuck in between love bites and hate bites. Anyway, i digress again. That night, i observed a distinct pattern. Mosquitoes are afraid of my tattoos. No, seriously. They don't dare poke their hideous proboscis into the area that's inked. In fact, they go for the tiny space that lies in between the black design. Isn't that astounding? Of course. Do you know how it feels to have an entire community fear you? Hitleresque, yeah. Milosevican too. Thanks to this rather intriguing behavior amongst Sanpada mosquitoes, i've grown more confident of my pursuit to get a lot more tattoos than i initially intended to. I just hope this ain't Mother Nature's conspiracy to make my face end up like Mike Tyson's or those Maoris who intimidate you with their Haka moves.

Putting the quit in mosquitoes

You know what sucks other than my blog? Mosquitoes. Humans may find it offensive but "You suck!" must be a compliment among mosquitoes. Yes, that’s common sense unless you are a mosquito who‘s reading this piece and feeling offended. Moreover, for a mosquito, human body is just another free bar.

For the record, I share a very bizarre relationship with mosquitoes. I admire them as well as hate them. It’d be fair to say that we are engaged in a die-unto-death battle. One of us has to give up to let the other survive. In my otherwise insipid life, I am guilty of massacring millions of these pests but it was always them who started the fight, not me. But I have to admit that every time I slay a mosquito, the loser in me receives a massive ego boost. The feeling that follows such act is beyond words (and sentences and paragraphs and blogs and universe and everything else!). Thankfully, it's easier to assassinate a well-fed mosquito than a famished one. Perhaps that is Mother Nature's way of making sure no one dies hungry.

It goes without saying that they effortlessly defeat the Gandhian in me because I’m usually a staunch pacifist, even to the point of wimpiness. But being a human, you’ve got to do what a mosquito wants you to do i.e. murder it. Despite all of this, we share a mutual respect for each other. But love is not in the air. Mosquitoes are. The trouble with mosquitoes is that they think they are smart. And the bigger trouble lies in the fact that they are INDEED smart.

For once, they are born with this innate ability to overlook human ugliness. We should be gracious to them for this kind consideration. No wonder they are pious beings. They are a god-fearing as they constantly hum their prayers. Killing them is like a double-edged sword. You are displeasing both Devil as well as God. To make matters worse, they are born musicians. Anyone can kill a mosquito but no one can take away its music. Besides, you only share your blood with them, not your wretched DNA.

I guess early human beings clapped to kill mosquitoes and then clapped more to celebrate their kill. That’s how clapping and mosquitoes got introduced to each other. On a personal level, I firmly adhere to the principle of not mulling those who don't belong to my house. And anyway, even the mosquitoes in my office are professional. They'll bite you only if you're idling around.

Like I mentioned before, mosquitoes possess some attributes unbeknownst to the rest of living beings. For instance, dignity. A bed bug will be prepared to get into your pants but a mosquito won’t ever stoop so low for food. They do face hard times like the rest of us but they’ll keep their proboscis stiff and stay out of fear. Well, for anecdote’s sake, I do remember a swarm of panicked mosquitoes once invading my room. I figured out then that nothing else scares the shit out of them the way rain does. Rain is like a wet ghost to them.

As I’m typing, I can’t help notice this time of the night when some fat mosquitoes get high on blood and crash into walls like drunkards do on street. It is also the period when you’re bound to be touched by their unparalleled love for your skin. You can’t deny that they love you even at their cost of their bloody life.

Appropriately, to set the mood right, I haven't killed a single mosquito tonight. Yeah, age and non-violence is catching up with me. Peace is temporary. Also, it’s a relief there ain’t any clapping limits on killing a mosquito. Or else, I wouldn’t have been the mighty mosquito warrior that I claim to be.

In closing, killing mosquito is a lot like playing Counter-Strike with your own blood and obviously I enjoy it but I won't be satisfied until I participate in the execution of that one last mosquito left on Earth.