A SNAKE TO REMEMBER

A SNAKE TO REMEMBER🐍

On the second floor of our ancient apartment building, lived ancient Mrs (Dr) M. The 80-year-old lived alone, with occasional visits from her children. She wasn't actually alone – she had plenty of visitors throughout the day, including the milkman, neighbours to other pensioner friends who dropped by. With mischievous beady eyes and a sweet tongue – totally grandma material.

Then her son suggested she keep paying guests – college girls. The experiment worked initially; Mrs M was seemingly adjustable. But soon, it just became a revolving door for those girls. Most didn’t last a week!

The problem? Her flat. Packed with stuff. Old trunks, furniture, books – and even curtains. The rooms looked like dull sad museums. No place to move around. What everyone called garbage, she called memories. She wouldn’t get rid of it. Hence, no one stayed – better breathe on the street than suffocate in that dump.

Along came girl no. 11. 11 was cheerful and outgoing. She often rambled about Mrs M, her guests and her house to my mom every day, giving her a daily dose of gossip. She even broke the record, and stayed at Mrs M's more than anyone else.

One evening, she knocked on our door, panting.

“Snake! Black Snake! It was in my room. I ran - locked the room. Must have come in through the balcony..”

My mom calmed her nerves with a cup of tea. We reported the incident to the society chairman. Soon, the entire building had gathered on the second floor. Mrs M; usually cool-headed, was terrified - hid herself at Mrs H’s.

“What colour?”, “How long?”, “Did it bite you?” We threw a ton of questions at 11.

“Where did it come from?” asked Mr T.

“Through the balcony; the chaffa tree – must have climbed it. ”

“Snakes avoid chaffa trees! So we have been told” – Mr U remarked – the classic elderly knowledge show-off. It was acknowledged by head nods and murmur.

“It was there alright!” 11 screamed.

In the confusion, someone was clever enough to call a sarpamitra (snake-catcher). That guy showed up an hour later and was quickly pushed into Mrs. M’s flat. The sarpamitra with his stick, 11 with a broom, Mr H with a bat, and even Mrs G with an agarbatti. So began the snake hunt – they excavated the entire flat – tore through it - but no snake was ever found.

"Slithered away, gone! " 11 declared.

The museum house was left in disarray. We called it quits. Mrs M spent the night at Mrs H‘s and 11 stayed over at a friend’s house. 11 had an apparent fear of evil spirits...

No false snake alarms were repeated after this, and we soon forgot about the entire ordeal.

Then, a week later, as everyone took out the morning trash – we discovered Mrs M and 11 enjoying tea on her balcony, right where a sorry-looking giant wardrobe had been for the last 10 years. A baffling scene. On further investigation by peeky, long-necked neighbours, it was found that her flat had been cleared of her memory garbage.

It now actually looked like a house. Complete with bright curtains, Kashmiri carpets and less clutter.

 My mom asked 11: “How did this happen?” She chuckled: “Well, the snake helped me” and winked ;)

 

~ Advait S.