Bats in the Belfry!

I have bats in the belfry.

Okay, maybe not my belfry exactly but in the shaft outside my flat. Five little bats hanging upside down for the last year of so. Suspended from a concrete beam. Like ornaments in a Christmas tree.

 

I’ve realized now what the term batshit crazy means. There is a LOT of batshit and that is driving me crazy. We’ve barely recovered from Covid and I’m worried there might be another virus in the air. We’ve tried everything. Bright lights, fogging and frenzied clapping. But the bats refuse to vacate the space.

 

The other day, my neighbour rang the doorbell and politely asked if we could turn down the Qawwali music. “Oh that," my husband grinned. "That’s not Qawwali, it’s the sound of my wife clapping to drive the bats away.”

 

She wasn’t amused. But then neither am I.

 

I know what you are going to say. Why this kolaveri? Bats are good for the environment blah blah blah. In fact in certain cultures bats are supposed to be a symbol of prosperity and good luck. They eat insects, pollinate plants and maintain the balance in our ecosystem. But what about my mental balance?

 

The Covid virus came from a bat, didn’t it? So, as far as I’m concerned, they are bad news. I don’t want them anywhere near my apartment.

 

Of course the Chinese wouldn’t agree. The Chinese look at bats as a symbol of good luck. The Chinese word for bat also means good luck. Folks in China wear bat-shaped amulets and send out cards with bats on them. It’s not just them. Closer home, there are villages in Assam, Bihar and South India where bats are worshipped and considered to be guardian angels.

 

Christianity, however, views bats as malevolent and unclean, associated with demons and evil spirits. Even Shakespeare didn’t seem to be too fond of them. Remember Macbeth and the incantation of the three witches: “Eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog.” Then there is Caliban’s curse on Prospero in The Tempest: “All the charms of Sycorax, toads, beetles and bats, light on you.”

 

The other day, I saw one of them hanging near my front door. Perhaps it had a tiff with the other bats and needed some space. But I nearly popped a nerve at the sight of the creature. And nothing has been the same since. It’s almost as thought someone has put a curse on me.

 

I’m going batty. Do you have any ideas on how they could be rehomed? Preferably far away from me?

For Your Eyes Only!

photo courtesy: pixabay

The ground floor trial rooms at the clothing store are occupied. It’s the start of a long weekend and there are shoppers crowding every floor of the three-storeyed retail store in Gurgaon. A couple of women are trying on clothes (heaps of them, in fact), darting out every couple of minutes to parade in front of their men, waiting patiently at the entrance to the trial rooms, and seek their approval.

The men, some of them pacing up and down the aisle impatiently or checking their smartphones while they wait, look up when their women materialise and either nod or shake their heads. The smiles on the womens’ faces dissolve into frowns or stay firmly in place depending on the signals they receive from the men. One of them, a pretty, thirty-something lingers a little longer than the others, smoothening the shimmery top over her tummy, fluttering her eyelids.

“Is it okay Jaanu? Are you sure I don’t look fat? This colour, is it nice?”

Jaanu, a stout man with heavyset features, nods and waves her off, back into the trial room. The moment she vanishes, he  starts checking his mail again, but not before darting a furtive, embarrassed glance in my direction.

I’m beaming now, enjoying the runway fashion show.

I’m accompanying the teenager and she has disappeared into one of the trial rooms with a bundle of things she wants to try on. There’s no chance of her appearing in the doorway to seek my approval. She knows I won’t approve and neither of us like exchanging angry words in public. So I wait, skulking in the aisles, while she makes up her mind on her own. Much like I do, when I'm out shopping on my own.

I can’t help but feel astonished that all of these women cannot pick outfits without taking sartorial advice from the men in their lives. I can understand wanting to look good for someone, but shouldn’t you be able to decide what you want to buy and whether or not it would look good on you, on your own? If the man says no, it doesn’t look nice, will you just accept that verdict without a question?
That doesn’t seem right to me. And it’s certainly not something I would do!

Jaanu's better half has just appeared wearing a frothy chiffon dress. But he doesn't like it. He scowls and shakes his head vigorously from side to side. She looks uncertain, bites her lower lip and heads back indoors sadly. What a shame. I thought she looked rather nice in that dress. But no one has asked for my opinion!

Of course, I can’t help but feel slightly envious of the fact that these men have taken time out and are patiently waiting while their wives and girlfriends shop. Not just that, it’s their decision whether or not a particular article of clothing will be bought. Now, that’s an awful amount of responsibility to give someone. Even if you are in love with that person.

There is the tiny matter of the bill. If these men are the ones doling out the cash, then perhaps it does make sense? They do get to decide what they spend their money on. But it’s not an air conditioner or a fridge or a piece of crockery that we are discussing. Why do they get to have a say in what their wives and girlfriends wear?

No one (other than my mother when I was a little girl) has ever taken me shopping. None of my boyfriends when I was a teenager or my husband of 23 years. I’ve mostly shopped alone and bought clothes I wanted to buy and felt I looked good in. Whether I did or not is another matter altogether! The only approval I’ve ever sought is my own.

Is it time to change? Seeing all these women, I’m beginning to wonder that maybe I’m the odd one out.  Perhaps I should ask my husband to take me shopping next week. There is a lovely blue blouse I’ve spotted.

I’m quite sure he will think I’ve lost it. Early onset of dementia. I can almost hear him laughing at me. My jaanu is not willing at all. But then, he’s not used to his woman seeking approval for anything so can’t say I blame him!

Do you?