My sincerest apologies in advance if you are going to read this entire piece. Also, it also serves you right for ignoring my first warning. It is definitely not a sad sob story of some dance between someone who does in the end, or some father-daughter/ mother-son post marriage celebration. Rather, it is the stalemate between 2 stubborn creatures.
Early meetings are the worst, because they consist of 2 of the worst creations of human history-getting up early and long, boring meetings. A definite prerequisite to prepare for this is a good, long night sleep. So, as I switch off the lights, and prepare to tuck in, waiting to fall into the abyss of sleep, something comes up which is strangely nostalgic and irritating at the same time-the buzzing of a mosquito. I have been quite lucky in this regard, because during my time here, although I have battled infestation of bedbugs (I had to throw away my mattress eventually) and leeches (try walking through a wet wooded area), mosquitoes were a rare entity.
Long story short, the mosquito had to die for me to sleep peacefully and no amount of animal rights and holiness ( I wonder if the mosquito is holy for any section of mankind) will convince me otherwise. I stay still, listening intently for the buzzing. My patience was rewarded, but not my reflex as my desperate attempt to clap over my left ear was futile. The periodic buzzing was seemingly getting more frequent as if I was being taunted. I decided to to tempt it into a false sense of security and hope it landed somewhere on my bare skin where I could end this once and for all. I was using techniques engendered into me through years of mystery novels, tv shows and movies, gain the trust before betraying, and hopefully not make the same mistake as the villains and terminate the enemy immediately. I waited for some time, and I was not disappointed as I felt something soft land on my cheek.
Weeks of cycling to work made me stronger ( which is still an overstatement, because, no, I am not really strong) and I always thought I had decent reflexes (all the catches that I missed were due to poor hand-eye coordination). And as soon as my palm landed on my cheek, I couldn’t feel anything except my skin. I realized I had missed and had just slapped myself. Well, I have had enough, and I got up and switched on the lights. It seemed the mosquito was gone.
Why do I call it a stalemate? Because, although I had failed on my attempt to eliminate the mosquito, I managed to succeed on my original objective of having a good night’s sleep…oh wait…I ended up staying up and writing it down. Well played Madam/Sir, well played. You may have won the battle, but the war is far from over.
One response to “The last dance”
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