THE JOY OF KILLING
Illustration: ER Ronny
Murder is the most primal and sinful of all crimes. To kill another living being, to crush the body against a cold wall, to splatter the brains and guts everywhere and feel elated at the sight of blood and gore - yes, murder is a horrible, horrible thing to do indeed. But what if this writer were to tell you that each and every one of us living on this planet, well at least in Bangladesh, take part in cold-blooded murders like these every day? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are all bloody murderers, psychopaths with blood on our hands, killing and mutilating everyday like serial-killers, basking in the unholy excitement of the hunt, the blood, the gore, smashed body-parts flying everywhere -
Wait, before you jump to any wrong conclusions, I'm only talking about killing mosquitoes.
Now the beginning paragraph of this article may sound scary, not to mention make you feel bad about yourself, but when it comes to mosquitoes you all understand, right? We're Bangladeshis for crying out loud; mosquitoes are our arch nemesis, the curse of our national life, the nuisance of the millennium, the little rascals that - excuse this writer's heated outburst, but yours truly just got bitten by one of the cowardly, 'whiny' enemies of mankind a while ago and we all know how that feels. Mosquitoes are stupid, irksome creatures, the real-life blood-sucking vampires minus the essential Cullen-looks and charms (no wonder nobody likes them). They are noisy, they won't let you sleep and when they bite (or sting, or whatever it is they do), it hurts and itches like HELL. Especially the itching part and when that happens on the underside of your feet - oh dear God, help us…
Taking you to more serious matters, let's talk about the sudden rise in invincibility level of the modern city-mosquitoes. You've noticed it too, right? They have become such Frankensteins! They are faster, deadlier and they treat coil-smokes and aerosols like fake-snow sprays in Grandma's birthday party. They're like zooming little jet planes these days, they circle around your face and make that irritating nasal (wait, do they even have a nose?) noise and when you get annoyed and try slapping them, SNAP! - You end up slapping yourself instead. I bet they laugh their heads off saying, 'Stupid humans,' while you are left on the floor reeling from the shock. They think it's funny, do they? Well, we have news for them.
They say necessity is the mother of all inventions and the brilliant innovative skills of the modern man never ceases to amaze us. So to combat the hybrid Ninja-nuisances wrecking our lives, man created the ultimate Samurai-sword… in a manner of speaking. Yours truly is talking about the electric racket-thingies that are out in the market these days. Those of you who still know nothing about it, it is THE most awesomest (couldn't help the double superlative) thing that has ever happened to humanity. Seriously. You push a button, the thing charges up and when you swing it around your head like a katana and catch the little idiots in its intricate net - ZAP! Home-made 'mosha' fry with tiny blue sparks for decoration. Now that's badminton for a good cause!
Recall again the beginning para of this article and this writer's ramblings about the 'thrill of the kill'. Well, with mosquitoes, it's so worth it. Often when the racket catches even a single 'mosha', there is this series of sparks that go out like gunshots: boom-boom-boom-zap-zap-rat-tat-ta-ta: it is SO cool! And with it comes the huge rush of self-admiration that is almost addictive: this writer is regularly spotted sneaking behind couches after sunset in guerilla-mode, armed and ready in wait, and as soon as one of them comes out, you can tell what happens next. Friends and family call it madness; yours truly tells them it's for the greater good. I just don't understand why THEY don't understand.
Ending with an urgent message: mosquitoes in some areas have become resistant even to the magic-racket. As soon as you push the button they somehow telepathically sense its aura and go into hiding. The moment you let your guard down and turn the thing off: Death. Well, bite, in this case.
Happy killing, comrades.