Ratified Murder

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by Cuni Popi

Chandri was contemplating murder. Killing comes naturally to some but for the majority of the human species its either very strenuous or a sin. Chandri was born after a visit to the slice of paradise called Kashmir, so her parents chose a kashmiri name for her which means moonshine.

It was around 1:30 at night when a faint but consistent scratching like sound woke Chandri up. She sat up looked around and after a visit to the washroom returned to bed having found none to associate the sound with. The scenario repeated itself at 3.30am and around 5 too.

Chandri is not a light sleeper but off late her sleep tends to get disturbed often with trivial sounds. The phenomena had started after her baby boy was born almost 11 yrs back. The boy has still remained a baby when it comes to sleeping and Chandri has ever since been jumpy and prone to check her baby every now and then for misplaced blankets or mosquito bites.

It was an obvious indication and the course of action was also too obvious for any scope of consideration. Yet Chandri was anxious and stressed out. She like the millions could not plan a kill.

The scratching event happened the night after too, keeping Chandri awake almost all night. She turned the whole house topsy turvy, to find out and alleviate the cause of this irritating midnight sortie; to no avail of her primary mission, but a whole lot of junk cleaning job sitting on the to-do list for months, got done.

Chandri and her son were at their shared table, each on their own comp in the evening; suddenly a shadow passed and Chandri was chary. She kept looking from the corner of her eye and there it was. Once again Chandri ransacked the house and along with her son felt a pseudo relief of riddance from the burden of having blood on her hands.

There are several people but for whom the earth would have lost its variety of species, yet in everyday life the people Chandri met except for her mother, did not feel so strongly against killing, especially if it was a lesser living thing; as proclaimed by most people, of any other species than their own. Once at a party Chandri felt like ripping a man apart, as he was boisterously mentioning that the only interest he had about tigers was if one was on his plate.

Roy was an animal lover. He loved plants too though he could barely make out a Tamarind tree from that of a Mango. The only living things he had aversion for were insects. It had always been a big bone of contention for Chandri and her husband Roy. He enjoyed drowning ants, smashing cockroaches, squishing beetles and valued his family’s pain caused by a bee sting more than the bee’s life.

Ridiculous as it might seem to Roy, Chandri could have well replaced the nat geo guy who was happily feeding the vampire bat with his own blood in order to closely study them. But that is in thoughts, in reality when approached aggressively by monkeys she screams for Roy whether or not he is around.

Roy is her strength, her shield; her entire existence revolves around Roy and of course the little life who is so much a shadow of her own persona and better still. Chandri had been suffering sleepless nights, bearing the physical strain of unsettling and resettling the house and yet was jolly. She just wanted Jerry to leave; it would kill her to see it dead.

Next morning Chandri have had another sleepless night, Roy was concerned and as they were leaving for school, Chandri suddenly figured out that Ghishu had not packed his bag for the day. Voices were raised, the air was taut with anxious alacrity and then Roy said it, “You stop jumping after your mouse.” He has been proposing poison.

Chandri snivelled all through the morning walk session and barely heeded to Roy’s effort of reconciliation. She was contemplating murder. She planned to buy rodent poison for the nightly visitor and have some herself too; the later just an outrageous thought.

For the past couple of years, Chandri the ever happy person feels extreme frustration at times. She was academically bright and was a possessor of multifaceted talent none of which she could focus on and manifest into a career. She is easily distracted and loses her way half or even quarter way through.

Roy was by far the best thing that happened to her whimsical carefree soul and yet deep down she knew that had she not given up on her profession and had she not been dependent on him, not just emotionally but also economically she would have most likely drifted away from him causing the biggest blunder of her life and the ultimate harm to herself.

Having thus passed a melancholy morning because Roy, her best buddy was proposing the killing of an innocent creature Chandri came home and started jumping after the mouse again. About an hour’s effort failed to elicit any response from the little fellow. He seemed like a magician, an expert in the vanishing act. With a heavy heart Chandri went to the shop and the keeper delighted her. She had forgotten all about it, a dear friend had suggested it not so long ago, the glue pad, only setting the rat free from it would definitely be a task. She had opted for a rat trap earlier so as to bring about least harm to the mouse. She took the pad this time and came back home prancing.

Chandri placed a banana nibbled by the rat on the floor all day long to evade the glue pad; she was ready to undergo yet another sweaty chase out session if her Jerry showed up. He didn’t for the better part of the day. Nevertheless Chandri was upbeat that she had been able to rescind the ratified murder of the rat.