the story of my lizard

Okay so, I hate lizards. Hate them with a seething, shuddering, disgustingly strong sense of revulsion. Dad would take the racist route and tried to knock some shame in me by calling me a "jaali rajput" or fake rajput because I was scared of lizards. I would vehemently deny any fear on my part contending they were such ugly creatures that I could not help but be sickeningly disgusted.

When I was a child, I once got stuck in my village home's bathroom because there was a lizard a little above the door. Not only did I refuse to budge, I screamed my head off. My mum, and later dad, tried to goad me into leaving from the other door near the door of the lizard. But "disgust" (and not fear) had so completely paralyzed me, that I could not even look in the general direction of the door and would periodically make sure the lizard did not move by identifying a dark figure on pink wall from the periphery of my sight. To make an hour-long minute-by-minute narration short, I finally sprinted for the other door when the lizard moved in the opposite direction. I did not enter that bathroom again for many months and still avoid using it (out of habit of course, nothing more).

In start of December 2008—when all such creatures had gone in hibernation or, hopefully, died—I noticed an adult (seemingly male) lizard in my room. Do not ask how I can presume it was male (or even whether they have different sexes), I just think there is a difference of body shape between male and female lizards, not that I am obsessed with them or anything.

So, anyway, this lizard was curiously stationed right behind a bulb on the wall, but over the bulb's base attached to the wall. True to my disgust I would not turn off the light at night in case it was mentally unbalanced and decided to jump on my head in a fit of delusional mania. I'm not really sure why I did not have my domestic help remove it immediately, but I believe we were short on staff during those times and she was already overworked. Or it could be I was going through my own suicidal depression phase and really could not be bothered with anything else.

So a couple of weeks ago, I realised that this lizard is actually very smart. See, instead of hibernating in some far off corner and missing all the splendour of Pakistani winters, it decided to take winters head on. Since our gas supply line was busted most of December, it took the initiative and, displaying capacity for long term planning, merrily lodged itself behind the light bulb. At least 7 hours a day, it gets warmth from the bulb's light and wiggles around, sometimes rotating in the same place clockwise or otherwise and sometimes just flicking its tail.

I have recently thought about having my domestic help kill it, but I believe I have grown rather fond of its tenacity. I enter the room, turn on the light, go to the other corner of the room and then take a look to see if it is still around. I don't even mind its presence anymore (as long as it does not decide to act in the usual disgust-provoking manner and move from behind the bulb)

Today, I left the bulb on when I went to work. Anyone with such desire to live should have the right to do so. And I should help.

Murder rampage can wait till summers.