Are you familiar with the nursery rhyme, ‘Mary had a little lamb …. And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go’?

Well, I, too, have been shadowed over the last two days — not by a sweet ball of fluff, but a tiny housefly. Its stalking has led me to look up Google to find out the life cycle of this creature and I was dismayed to find that it can live up to 30 days.

So, that means my torture continues. This pesky creature plays hide and seek and no matter what I do to entice it to leave my flat, it seems to always be a step ahead of me. I have rolled-up newspapers lying in every room, ready to swat it as soon as it settles on a surface. But it’s much too quick for me.

Just when I feel it has disappeared forever, I feel a ticklish sensation on my nose and there it is. The ‘eagle’ has landed with unerring accuracy. Unlike the mosquito, it has no warning signal that alerts you to its presence. Although it doesn’t bite, it can be a source of constant irritation.

I have tried leaving doors open, hoping the wide open spaces outside will entice it to leave me in peace. But it seems to have taken a liking to my home and is now an unwelcome guest who refuses to leave — everyone’s worst nightmare.

It’s just two days and I am already a nervous wreck. If it lives up to 30 days (it might even be longer ... remember longevity among human beings is rising), I can’t vouch for my sanity at the end of that period. So, if you see someone with dishevelled hair and wild eyes, don’t be afraid. It’s just me.

If I tell people about my ordeal, they find it amusing, not pitiful. I am offered no sympathy, just laughter.

Only a sensitive person who has gone through a similar experience will be able to empathise. I am yet to find a kindred spirit.

This morning, I caught a glimpse of my elusive nemesis in the kitchen. It sat on the granite platform as if it had every right to be there. It looked so comfortable, even too comfortable. For a wild moment I thought here’s my chance. But no sooner did I advance than it wafted away into thin air. I stood there for long seconds, trying to figure out where it had disappeared. I searched nooks and corners and found no signs of its presence. As I walked out of the room, I felt a feather-light touch on my forehead. I couldn’t believe it. It was playing games with me.

I was determined to bring it to its knees. I smacked my forehead with the newspaper wad and then shook out the paper, expecting to see it drop dead on the floor. Alas, the white tiled floor gleamed, with no dark speck in sight. I had lost yet again. And even a newspaper wad can hurt, I realised to my dismay. That’s like adding insult to injury!

This experience has made me philosophical. Maybe it’s a test of some sort and, if I endure, I shall be rewarded. Somehow the words of the song ‘We shall overcome’ come to mind. Maybe I should find some inspiration in its words and believe that this, too, shall pass. Or will it? Supposing, just supposing, it is the one fly in the world that aims to beat a world record for longevity?

Maybe I shall emulate the example of the tailor in the German folkloric story who killed seven flies and provoked a giant into submission with the words ‘Seven at one blow’.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, I have already gone stark raving mad.