Toilet-brush of Death

Dear dedicated reader,

I thought that perhaps it would be prudent to do a small follow up on my previous “would you rather” question to say that one problem in our house, at least for the moment, has been solved.
“The mouse” as Auntie-ji has taken to calling him (though I suspect that he is one soul in several bodies), is at last dead. Though his corporal form may have expired, his story will live on, however, in the form of this blog.

Every night, around 8:30 or 9 pm, my host family and I eat dinner in front of their favorite Hindi serials, a past-time that I enjoy as nowadays I understand enough to follow their dramatic and often implausible plot-lines. Their favorite, Pavitra Rishta, has recently revolved around some drama regarding the young wife’s ability to speak English to her husbands’ business partners. While ensconced within this enthralling story, I saw out of the corner of my eye a small, brown form dart out from underneath the shelf which holds their television and dash towards the sofa on which Auntie and Pappa-ji were seated.

“Ah, Auntie-ji,” I hesitated and she looked up from her roti. “I don’t mean to alarm you but the mouse is underneath your seat…”

The reaction was immediate – Auntie-ji leapt up spryly and called for Mamta to come and dispense with the mouse, running to close the doors that led to the hall, the kitchen, the bedrooms, and the children’s room.

A moment later, Mamta arrived, ready for action with a long toilet brush in hand. Toilet brushes in India are really a collection of a sort of reed all bound together, something like a broom, and therefore, apparently, ideal for mice-killing (?).

Mamta crouched down near the sofa and stuck the toilet brush underneath, tapping it and her feet in a mouse-killing rhythm. The mouse must have been terrified, because it darted out from the sofa, and for a moment all was complete confusion as we all jumped, Mamta towards the mouse and Auntie-ji away from it. I, for my part, pulled my feet up on the sofa on which I was seated.

The process of tapping and poking/prodding began again underneath the TV shelf, and finally, the mouse ran out and scampered around the room, frantically looking for a way to avoid Mamta’s toilet brush of death. Mamta, however, was too quick and with a merciless blow she stunned the mouse into inactivity. Another blow was enough to render it completely helpless, and after a few more quick blows in succession, she pronounced it dead.

With a deft scoop, she picked it up with toilet brush and began to carry it outside, as per Auntie-ji’s command. Auntie-ji, for her part, had her hands over her ears and was hiding behind the couch on the other side of the room. Once Mamta had disappeared outside, Auntie-ji came out as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, took her place on the sofa, and resumed eating her roti-sabzi.

I followed suit, silently wondering why on earth I ever thought traps would have been easier.

Best,
Cat