The Mosquito Net

As told by- The Charpoy

Mosquito- nets are used by the rural population around the world favored by mosquitoes on feeding and breeding spree. But, most of the modern, ‘so called’ high profile human population now a days, finds them only in the museums or as a fashion accessory to a bed. Gone are the days when one slept under the stars. But far back, till the mid twentieth century most of the Indian population, urban or rural, slept under the star- studded sky, on the terraces or the gardens during the hot summer months. The mosquito nets were essentially used wherever the mosquito population resided alongside their human dinner. The insect repellents were not in vogue, giving humans and insects equal opportunity at survival. And Purja lived in a happy good old mosquito infested hence mosquito net zone. I say happy because the very experience of being under the net was sort of extra terrestrial for someone with his temperament. He was in his own world defined only by net boundaries, fighting aliens e.g. mosquitoes and kin.

Purja shared the two charpoy net with Sesa that were laid out in the garden along with the similar bedding of rest of the extended family. Every night he would plan a strategic mosquito free entry into the net. Slinking quietly to the side of his bedding under which the net was tucked by the household staff, he would slip in as quickly as possible, raising the net just enough to allow him entry. But, apparently some scheming mosquitoes had a similar plan. Few always gained a side entry. And just as he settled to star gaze through the net top, these would start buzzing irritatingly around his ears looking for a prime spot to dig in their proboscis thereby disturbing his constellation checking activity. He knew his summer sky relatively well, having acquired his limited astronomical knowledge lying by his father’s side who pointed out various stars, constellations etc to him from time to time. Purja felt it to be his responsibility to check if all the heavenly bodies were in their respective places before he went to sleep at night. After all someone had to keep a tab on the universe above. It was this important mission the mosquitoes disturbed by biting painfully.

“The fight that followed was of indigenous Purja brand. This meant lot of action in the form of shrieking, shouting, clapping, jumping, thumping and rolling all over inside the netted territories till the poor mosquitoes were either expelled or had to find another body in Heaven. Some other casualties besides the mosquitoes would also occur e.g. a small tear in the net that, horror of horrors, would develop into a gaping hole, giving free passage to invading alien armies inside the netted territory. The torn net was useless to repulse these. Small holes were regularly darned by the maid but continuing nightly combat resulted in un-repairable black holes. And to make matters worse, some of the smarter insects with torch fitted backsides, called firefly brigade would search for our friend, showing way to others. These diverted his attention as he tried collecting them in cupped palms or a handkerchief, forgetting the mosquitoes or the gaping hole. Once this happened, the battle was lost. He would end up with painful itchy bites all over the exposed skin. Everyday he planned new strategies but couldn’t come up with a fool- proof method.

“Look at the bites on my face and arms. You know mom, there is a big hole on Purja’s side again and he hides it by placing his pillow and sheet on it. He jumps all over, even kicking me when I am sleeping. I do not want to share my net with him anymore.” Sesa had had enough. Purja’s aliens were impartial in their dinner choices and had bitten her badly.

The indulgent maid had no choice but own up to the hole finally, “Yes! The net is torn again. Poor boy must have had a nightmare and fallen off the bed through the net. He must have warm milk before sleeping.” She tried defending him, signaling to Sesa to hold her tongue. The rope of the charpoy would need tightening yet again, she knew. Purja was sent for.

He was busy digging a hole in the backyard in hope of finding a hidden treasure, long forgotten by some unlucky king or a dead dacoit. No harm in trying, he felt. After all dead dacoit was totally dead and unlucky king long gone. Gira and Goltu were helping him. Goltu loved jewelry, Gira loved excitement and Purja loved everything. He had lofty plans and a long shopping list, especially of Uranium and related things that he wanted to buy with the treasure to make a bomb to kill all the mosquitoes. He was yet to work out the finer details in consultation with Gassy, so that only the mosquitoes would be killed. Gira, absolutely, was in agreement that some sort of ammunition was needed to deal with the biting menace. She was tired of scratching the painful bites. Goltu, a gentle soul, wanted jewelry only. All three had highly fertile imagination and had been listening to too many backyard treasure stories.

Very reluctantly, he followed the maid to his mother’s room, leaving a thick trail of freshly dug soil. He disapproved of all unnecessary intrusions in his private life but an angry mother could not be ignored. Showing him the gaping hole in the net, with a painful tweak to his ear, his mother warned sternly.

“No more of your stupid jumping, is that understood? Today the net, tomorrow the charpoy, there is no end to your foolishness. If Sesa says you jumped around kicking her one more time, you will sleep without a net. Then all the mosquitoes can have a free feast for all I care.”

“But mom, I ……….” Purja tried explaining, rubbing his ears while looking crossly at Sesa. Why single him out? No one said anything to the mosquitoes that started the whole thing. And he wished he had kicked Sesa harder.

“ No more arguments! How come none of the other children have a problem? I don’t want torn nets or a broken charpoy and that is final. No more questions!” He loved his mother but her partiality to mosquitoes was irritating. Only when they bite her would she know how right he was, thought Purja. As for tattler Sesa, just this once he totally agreed with the enemy. They had shown exemplary courage and good judgment by biting her.

Sadly, his mother’s attitude though totally dictatorial, could not be defied. Since prospect of unprotected direct contact with the enemy, even for an hour, was daunting hence somewhat dubious peace reigned from then on. And as a clever strategic move he kicked Sesa hard with both legs while pretending to be fast asleep. He was caught soon enough, but that is another story.” Reliving the excitement of those times, the flushed Charpoy enacted the whole scene for the audiences that responded by giving it a resounding applause. The pole clapped the loudest having seen the action in situ. The mosquito net and the bamboo pole were soul mates. The net had needed its support for functioning as a mosquito net.