If you come to my house, I’ll greet you with a smile and then look sternly at your feet. No, I am not checking whether your shoes are polished and won’t demand to see your nails either. I got over that habit long time back. It’s just that my house is a shoe free zone and I expect you to take them off (just the shoes, if you please).
Every time I invite someone new to my place, it is always accompanied with a statutory warning. I am at my frothiest best or so I think and make sure each word is echoing with joy. I wouldn’t want to scare you off, would I? And I am a gracious hostess; I have chappals in all sizes & colours to suit your mood and taste.
But I’m not sure whether the gas delivery chap or the plumber shares the same sentiment. Ask them and with terror filled eyes they will recount the crazy bong lady. The madam jee who screams joote utaaro like an army general every time she opens the door. It is a perilous situation for me as well. Most of these gents have stinky feet – one whiff and you are ready to drop dead.
Lately I have started treating this species, especially their feet, with awe. Before you start making hasty assumptions about my sanity or rather the lack of it – let me clarify. Researchers in Tanzania have made a startling breakthrough. They have discovered that the stinky odour of human feet has a major fan following among the mosquito population. And now the smell of old socks is being effectively used to fight Malaria. All one has to do is set up a trap outdoors “scented” with the odour of human feet and voila the mosquitoes come swarming in. Once trapped, they are then poisoned en masse. Talk about fatal attraction!
So all you people, who have gotten used to making people swoon for all the wrong reasons, can let out a loud Hurrah! You can now take solace from the fact that a certain kind is evolved enough to appreciate your feet’s proclivity for bad odour. You can walk bare feet in the park, with your head held up high and your chest puffed up. Only a chosen few can boast of their very own army of mosquitoes following them around in a dazed stupor. A Vodafone user has one measly Hutch puppy and you have hundreds buzzing around you in frenzy. You my dear are the SRK of the Aedes Anopheles and its sundry cousins.
Are you wondering, why the hell I am so overjoyed? Great, that some sod accidentally discovered the magical properties of socks that smell of sewage – so what? You see, my husband is endowed with a magnetism which is visible only to the insect kingdom. Spiders and especially mosquitoes find him drop dead gorgeous. Where ever he goes, they come out in droves to pay their obeisance to this one of a kind specimen. Reclusive spiders come out of their self imposed exile, Gandhian mosquitoes let go of their ideals for one last sting operation. In a room full of juicy humanoids, it is him they select. He is like Jim Morrison and they his screaming fans. Ironically he has the most cared for feet in the world. Why he even moisturizes his toenails!
And now thanks to these Scientists (God bless their soul) I have found a perfectly simple solution to protect my loved one from his crazed admirers. Stay off him, he’s mine. All I have to is hurl the stinky socks I stole from the AC repair chap at these blood suckers and then spray them dead (just the mosquitoes). If Wendi Deng can protect Rupert Murdoch from flying pies with her deft left hand hook why can’t I be my husband’s Charlie’s Angel? I have already started practising my moves in front of the mirror with a menacing Buzz off will you!
So please, you are welcome to my house. Just make sure your socks are reeking. If not, beg, borrow or steal a pair that stinks – you wouldn’t want to disappoint me would you?