The "Purplehouse effect"

Yes, it is similar to the "Greenhouse effect", except that it involves mosquitoes instead of radiation.

The recent spike in Hyderabad's temperature has perhaps led to a surge in the mosquito population. Too bad they ended up being hatched-eggs instead of fried-eggs. Last night when I returned home, I experienced a warm welcome - "warm" by my room and "welcome" by the mosquitoes. They perhaps spawned among a pack of dogs, intensely trying to gratify me by pouncing on me, licking me, biting me and singing for me. But to their dismay, when I tried to reciprocate by patting on their backs, they started falling dead. When I removed my floaters, I knew little that my smelly feet would cost me the night.

After a while, when I was eating dosa, I realised it was not just me who was enjoying supper. Dozens of mosquitoes were feasting on a blood meal... MY blood. I tried shaking my legs until they were fatigued and then went to the kitchen to wash the plate. When I turned the lights on, I might have woken up a whole generation of mosquitoes, whose piercing stares I could feel on my back. The electric mosquito bat had already fulfilled its duty and retired for the day, to get charged. Tired of using chemical repellants, for which I myself was growing allergic to, my roommate and I decided to unpack our mosquito nets. His was white and mine was purple (no, not there yet). It had been two years since I bought the net, but always thought I would use it when mosquitoes got unbearable. The day had come. Unable to find ropes or twines to secure the net, I cut lengths of old optic fibre cables meant for broadband internet connection. While I was applying some high-school physics concepts of principle of moments, simple pendulum, gravity, friction, tensile strength, pulleys, elasticity and vectors,  my roommate had finished tying his net. I had to finally abandon my calculations and listen to my roommate's "Tie it first. You'll understand.".

I was so happy I had erected a tent for the first time, that too inside my house. I went for a trial-run, lying down inside "my area" (or rather "volume") and it was perfect. Blood-thirsty mosquitoes were trying to attack but were caught outside the net. I smirked at them with pity, as I watched them fail every time they tried to charge in. All set for a peaceful night, I tucked the hanging portions of the net under the mattress, leaving a small segment for me to enter. I turned the lights off and sneaked in stealthily, sealing off the opening behind me. I grinned ear to ear when I felt the shield around me - the one to ward off all evil spirits!

After a couple of hours, when I was supposed to be dreaming in my REM sleep, I experienced intense pricks all over my limbs. After minutes of unsuccessful ignoring, I groped around the net and found a small opening near my feet that had allowed the enemy fleet inside. Filled with pain, irritation and sleep, I turned on the lights and found a battalion of mosquitoes inside the net. A surprised me gave them a closer glance and found that most of them sitting on the walls of my fort had fat bellies filled with blood... MY blood. The mosquitoes were able to get inside the net and drink my blood but were trapped inside, unable to escape. This is what I call the "Purplehouse effect". That was it! I had very little patience dissolved in my blood, which those tiny buggers had sucked away. I picked up my charged weapon, the electric mosquito bat, and killed every single mosquito lurking inside the net. It was indeed very hard for me as I had to kill my "own blood". Remembering verses from the Bhagavad Gita, I was ready to get back to sleep when I found scores of "hangry" mosquitoes outside the net, waiting to avenge the death of their brethren. I went on a "rampage mode", killing tens of them with each whip of the racquet. Badminton, tennis, squash, racquetball, were all at my feet. In my half-awake state, I felt like Arjuna, Abhimanyu, Bhairava and Baahubali, all at once. I killed hundreds of them for the next half an hour and kept sweeping their fallen bodies to a corner in the room (no exaggeration!). I then heaved a sigh of revenge and went back inside my porous fort that hardly let even breeze inside. This time I double checked the seal after I got back inside. All good. I went back to sleep for another 6 hours.

Again a couple of hours later, history repeated itself. The sun had already risen. I did not have to put the lights on to see the Humpty-dumpty-mosquitoes sitting on the walls of the net and the numerous nurse-mosquitoes drawing blood from all my superficial veins. This was wrong. Mistakes are not supposed to be repeated. I thoroughly checked the net for big holes and rechecked my entry point and all were fine. My toiling around had not grossly altered the position of the net. The mosquitoes could not have squeezed through the tiny holes. As I ran my fingers along the boundaries of the mattress, I found a small part of the net, not tucked under. There was no point getting frustrated again, as the night, along with my beauty sleep, had already passed. But the mosquitoes were very much there, stuck inside the net. Thanks to the "Purplehouse effect".

Moral of the story: When a tyre gets punctured, do not assume there is only one tear!

P.S:- I am about to try the second night inside the mosquito net. Wish me luck!

P.P.S:- I have remixed a film song to sing the glory of the mosquitoes. Stay tuned!