JAC Against the Brutal Killing of Kang - the bloody mosquito
- Part 1 -

Czadanda Saint *

A mosquito pic of JE carrier :: Pix - TSE

Once upon a time, there lived a mosquito. In fact, there are millions and zillions of mosquitoes living and dying at every point in time. But this one's name was Kang, and she is lovingly and fondly remembered by her family, friends and well wishers as Kang- the bloody mosquito.

Mosquitoes can be easily mistaken to be miniature vampires. They hate the light and feed on the blood. A creature of the night, their lives resemble a symphony of darkness, conducted in perfect harmony with nightfall and sunrise. And a predator by nature, they remain in the shadows, nocturnal recesses, waiting to pounce upon an unassuming and unwitting victim. Moreover, there is always the sneaking suspicion that their species are forever. Strongly suggested by the fact that no matter how many mosquitoes you kill, their numbers never seem to be on the decline. Au contraire, they seem to be on the rise, like the heads of the mythical Hydra, for each head cut off it grew two more.

Seriously though, judging by such population explosion, we can make a haphazard conjecture as to what usually keeps them busy during daytime whole year round. The expression, 'breed like rabbits' needs some serious reconsideration now. Period. Further, it is considered that mosquitoes are one of the oldest creatures on Planet Earth; being around for more than 30 million years. But they are regarded mostly as a nuisance, the complete eradication or the extinction of them bearing no serious ecological consequences.

Wikipedia even listed them under the category of the most dangerous creatures on earth, as they are deemed to be the carriers or hosts of some of the most deadly diseases known to humanity.

Kang was such a typical mosquito. Plus, she was overweight, noisy and dirty and supposed to suck blood for a living. And born in a family of 88, her life story was not at all interesting (which mosquito's life story is interesting anyways). It was like watching a dull news program on a hot Sunday afternoon. You never know when you are going to doze off.

And not that she really cared about it, but she was considered as a loser in her own family of losers. The only noteworthy thing she ever did was to rise from the dirty sewage drain, where she was born and try to suck protoplasm and cytoplasm from the able-bodied and full-bloodied human beings, which included me by the way. However, being the loser that she was, this was also a grand disaster. It soon became clear enough that she was not born to be a sucker.

Because, she had hardly been 'blooded' that she got caught in a freak 'accident', culminating with her untimely demise. So literally, her life was a journey from the gutter to the stars. Straight from the sewage drains to the heavens above, a detour via mankind.

And that was it. Her death was it. The watershed moment. And all hell broke loose after that. I learnt later on that when she was alive nobody gave a shit about her. Even her own brothers and sisters didn't bother much about her existence. She was mostly considered as a loser, lousy and loony.

Kang was a loner, who was forever pushed into the shadows even by her own family. And the community was eventually waiting for the day when she will be shut up in a loony bin. But her death changed all these. Memories were re-written. The past was re-visited and history was changed. In some unfathomable way, with her death, this loser of a living being was not only thrust into the spotlight, she became the 'spotlight' herself.

She became the focal talking point of the whole mosquito species.... The voice of the voiceless.... The amulet of the degenerate.... And the most wondrous thing of all, the newly written memories of her was all sunshine and daisies. Her family, friends, well wishers and her fellow beings, far and wide, all seem to have their little anecdotes of her. Of how good and beautiful she was; of how she was always kind and helpful to everyone; how bright she was and what dreams she had; and how she had been taken in the flower of her youth.

The funny thing about these stories was that almost all of it seems to end with her doing some little heroic act. In not so broad daylight and in a matter of minutes, she was being immortalized. A fable. A myth. A legend. A cornerstone to differentiate between heroism and cowardice. Or to say so in mosquito language, she became a superstar posthumously.

If you do an autopsy on Kang right now, you would find traces of my DNA. However, the more feasible option would be to try to find the DNA of Kang on my hands. Because, it was with my right hand palm that she met her freak 'accident'. Yes, it was yours truly whom she chose to be her first 'kill'. So, I think- it was either because it was her first time or my blood is unusually delectable that there was no letting go. She just doesn't seem to get enough. She kept on nipping, sucking, and tightening her grip, totally oblivious of everything else.

Everything else was pretty mundane to her at that time. Plain and simple, she got hooked to that 'feeling' of first time- where the mind swings like a pendulum between fantasy and reality. Where the knees give away and the heart seems to beat in tandem with the universe, in the same breath as the Brahma himself. She was so far away, so removed from her own self and yet so deep inside her own mind at the same time. But back in real time, keeping aside this imagery of pure and untainted ecstasy, she was also stinging me in the process and it does hurt.

And like any obnoxious sci-fi geek would have observed, "it was like parallel universe, dude". It was almost like two concurrent realities unfolding at the same time. In such times, as we all know, our human bodies' involuntary reflex action kicks in, taking over the normal functioning of the human brain, as part of its in-built defense mechanism.

Thus, my right hand palm, out of reactionary instinct, analyzed and ascertained the point of breach on the epidermis of my left shoulder and went down hard. And inevitably (although it was unfortunate) it was the exact same place, Kang lay stoned, enjoying her warped version of heaven. She was smacked.... Dead.... thus fulfilling her tryst with the destiny. The hunter became the prey. The sarcasm was not missed as I became a murderer.

This was how I came to know the dear departed Kang. When she was alive, her existence was of no relevance to me. But at around 1830 hours on a hot Sunday afternoon, our destinies were entwined together forever. Maybe, she was fated to die by my hands. Maybe she was born to die young. It was quite ironic that her death opened my eyes and showed me a new life: to be more precise, the lives, and the times of mosquitoes. These pests were also living beings, governed by the same rule of birth and death as we humans.

I hoped, wherever Kang was now, as she had made her foray into the unknown involuntarily, she was in peace. Then I began wondering, whether there is a discrete heaven for the mosquitoes, or whether the same 'heaven' applies to all living beings. Pushing my imagination a little bit further, I started to think, if there is only one solitary heaven, then, mosquitoes would still be an irritation in heaven. Or would there be a change in their status? Or would they still be vermin, but with a halo?

to be continued...