Nataraja’s dance

I see blood, a lot of blood – on my legs, on my hands and on my face. All this blood is mine and there are the usual suspects – mosquitoes. Mosquitoes, why does it have to be mosquitoes.

I arrived in India to blazing sunshine which was a welcome relief from the cold of Chicago. But I had forgotten about Mumbai’s problem with mosquitoes. In the past it was usual to expect mosquitoes after the monsoon’s but recently they seem to have become a year round phenomenon.
After spending a few days scratching and slapping myself silly, I decided to take a more proactive solution. I cam across these badminton sized plastic electric rackets which can be used for killing those annoying creatures.
So now you see me doing Shiva’s dance of death every evening. A frenzied look passes my face every time a mosquito passes my view accompanied by wild swings of the racket. Any of my neighbors peeking in from their balcony will probably see a man not quite in his senses, wielding a badminton racket and a crazed look on his face lighting up every time there is an electric shorting on contact with a mosquito. Shiva crushed the demon of ignorance, my foe is the mosquito.