Mosha beshi, chinta kom.
WHY has the number of mosquitoes buzzing in my ear and biting my arms and ankles increased tenfold in the last week? If they were not swarming around me before, they are now. I kid you not. Could it be, that, as many residents have left the city on account of the extended weekend, the mosha to manush ratio has increased, as in more mosquitoes per head now?
And please, I do not want to hear that they prefer mishti rokto or blood that is sweet, so, therefore, it is understandable that I am more bitten than others. Being a potential casualty of malaria, chikungunya, Zika, dengue, and encephalitis is not a reassurance, at least, not as far as I am concerned.
And why is there comfort at all? Why not outrage? Mosquitoes are the deadliest creatures on this Earth causing more than 700, 000 deaths and countless other crippling diseases.
Oh, but then the humans themselves are responsible for over 450,000 fatalities of their own kind, not to mention immeasurable destruction.
Mosquito kill man, man kill man. Who kill mosquito?
Well, not man as yet. He may have successfully eradicated many other species from this planet, but, when it comes to competence in decimation, with all the billions (name currency) invested in research and technology, he comes a distant second to this tiny lethal female cashless insect. Money clearly does not buy everything, and men clearly need to be more empowered.
Speaking of men, the reassurance of sweet blood is more irksome than the mosquito bite, because it reeks of that tone that is used for female victim blaming, that passive denial of not wanting to identify the gender problems, that convenient acceptance of uneven power structures.
And why the word sweet? How did this myth come about I wonder? Apparently, research suggests that mosquitoes (not sure if it includes all the 3,000 plus species) are attracted to type O blood much more than type A, with type B in the middle. And 85 percent of people produce a secretion that signals what blood type they are; mosquitoes are drawn to those 85 percent more than the non-secretors, regardless of blood type.
So, based on research I can hypothesize that 15 percent of humans do not have sweet blood, the type AB it seems; and amongst 85 percent of the 7 billion plus people on this planet, there is a range of blood sweetness. Sweet, sweeter, sweetest, corresponding to types A, B, O.
Now, if the marker of inner beauty be sweet blood, then this ‘conclusion’ is of great value to me innit, as I am now able to determine which amongst us are the most beautiful on the inside.
I can engage in formulaic conversations with the all the humble brags in their mellifluous tones, “Jano, amake mosha shudhu kamray aar kamray”, and I duly respond “Taaaaiiii, you truly are beautiful on the inside, beautiful on the outside that’s why”, and then I wait for the demure concurrence, and of course receive a few bites myself in the process.
Ugh! Rant most definitely not over…
Chintamoni grew up in Dhaka, where she will always belong, but never quite fit in. She is an enthusiastic traveller, a compulsive procrastinator, and a contumelious raconteur.