Tiny Terror

Spring is ephemeral everywhere, but nowhere more so than in our Delhi-NCR. All the more to be savoured and enjoyed, therefore. While everyone rhapsodizes about spring blooms and fresh verdant growth, I am paralysed by the first sighting of the humble house lizard. No number of peacock feathers and eggshells can faze this terrifying descendant of the T. Rex. (Pardon my inaccuracy about its lineage). It probably considers the house its own, and embarks on a tour to check if all is as it left it. It sometimes loses its grip—literally—and falls with a stultifying plop in the most inconvenient of places. Once, it landed on my head and those milliseconds must have done more damage to my heart than any amount of chhole bhature, and frozen desserts rich in trans-fats. The morning ritual of pulling aside the curtains and opening the balcony door is now rife with wariness. I unabashedly embrace my inner coward and leave this otherwise-pleasant task to hubby or the help. As for picture frames and paintings, I don’t dare touch them for fear of a sudden darting out of a squiggly, wriggly creature who just might leave its tail behind! No doubt it keeps in check the other creepy crawlies. However, is it too much to ask it to restrict itself to unseen spots? Can we just coexist peacefully please?