The plague

My chilled-out Friday evening was shattered this week by the plague that seems to have descended on Parbatipur of late. Not locusts (not quite) but swarms of tiny bright green biting flies that cover the light bulbs and the walls until the blue paint becomes bright green and the light is muted to an unearthly glow.

I was sitting at my computer on Friday evening, minding my own business, when I became gradually aware that I’d been flicking a growing number of insects off my screen, and picking a growing number of insects from between the keys.

Then I looked up and almost had a heart attack. It was like something out of the Bible. They were everywhere, covering the wall around my light, zooming across the room from one bulb to the next. In the thick of things sat Gertrude, my resident gecko pal. She’s a bit of a fatty, so I can always recognise her, and she was having an absolute feast on the insects. We have an arrangement, me and her: she can stay so long as she eats all the bugs. But even she was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of insects.

At this point, I did the only thing possible: I ran around my flat shrieking for a bit, then, remembering the neighbours and the inevitable amused curiosity that would follow, switched to cursing quietly. I tried switching off the lights, but the feeling of insects in my hair as they left their positions beside the bulbs was too much to bear.

Then I got out my bug killer spray. I was a little reluctant to do this, given Gertrude’s presence up there, but she wouldn’t heed the tea towel that I waved vaguely at her in warning (I’m afraid to touch her, lest her tail should fall off. I’d hate to be responsible for her losing her tail.) Anyway, I should have got out my umbrella as well the spray, because as soon as I started spraying it, the little shites started dropping like a soft green rain.

At this, I offed the lights and fled from my flat. My neighbours looked very intrigued to see me bolting onto the landing and stand panting beside the safely closed door as if I’d just shut a peckish wild cat in there.

Luckily, Meena had invited me to have dinner at her house so down I went. To discover that there was not one green insect in her house. I tried to convey my incredulity and ask how she had evaded the plague, but my Bangla really isn’t up to that, so I just got some raised eyebrows and concerned looks.

When I got back to my flat after dinner, I was faced with a scene worthy of the Somme (had small bright green biting insects been involved). So I spent the rest of the evening sweeping up their carcasses as best I could, removing the detritus of my cull and feeling a little sickened by how their bodies kept writhing in the dustpan.