My wife and I were taking a nap when a wasp strayed into our bedroom. It was not creating any humming sound and did not threaten to sting either of us. It briefly hovered around us and then settled down on a door knob, perhaps looking into the keyhole for some spider or other insect for lunch.
As I watched it wondering where from it had flown in, the little devil probed a few other places and returned to perch itself on the door knob. My wife, having been a sufferer of bee sting, dreads the very sight of the flying insect, I took care not to disturb either of them. I made no noise. She had once talked about her being very sensitive to bee and wasp stings and said she couldn’t forget the trauma she had undergone when scores of them swooped down on her during her school days. After that, she detested going to school and stayed home for a pretty long time, until she made sure that it wouldn’t happen again.
I rolled up a newspaper and quietly tried to shoo away the wasp. It did not fly away, but the flutter woke up my wife. Spotting the little creature performing trapeze in front of her eyes, she shrieked in fear so loudly that, I thought, it should have driven it out. Honestly speaking, since I had never experienced a bee or wasp sting in my life, I may not have appreciated the severity of the pain a victim experiences. Yet, the fact remains that I also dread them. But I had to act brave in front of my wife. I told her that bees and wasps don’t attack unless provoked. But my half-hearted pleas failed to convince her. I was commandeered to drive it away at the earliest. And in order to restore peace in my house I vowed to get rid of the wasp somehow.
On opening the door, I discovered to my horror — and to my wife’s — a bunch of some 15-20 wasps sitting on the balcony’s pipe railing, sharpening their wings and limbs as if preparing themselves for war. Our woes seemed to have compounded, but there was no question of disturbing them, for it would have led to an unequal war. So, I waited until they flew out on their own. A quick investigation revealed the presence of big nests that these winged creatures had built inside the hollow pipe railings. What was the size of their habitat and their population was only a matter of guess. I had to act fast. As an immediate remedy, I sealed the openings with crumpled paper balls. “Aha, so now it is over”, I told myself — and to her. But I was wrong.
After a while, the wasps returned to find their place out of bounds. Acting in unison, they probed the entire area to find some other opening somewhere. They failed and apparently, that fuelled their anger. We watched their reaction and behaviour from behind a glass windowpane. The crowd had swelled with more wasps joining in the search for the ‘culprit’. I don’t know if in addition to the sensors, wasps have sniffing power as well. Perhaps, they don’t have, otherwise they would have been looking for me. I realised that no matter how brave you may be, you acquiesce in fear before these tiny creatures.
The restless insects flew from one pipe end to another to find a possible entrance to the nests where they had left their offspring hours ago. But luck eluded them. All the wasps congregated over the crumpled paper and the pipe that hid their nests — and offspring. The parent insects had stopped flying. They just stayed put, as if trying to figure out how to reach their progeny. I found them waiting endlessly. Now, they were not moving — as if bemoaning their helplessness. I put humans in that situation. I was feeling guilty for having uprooted so many wasps. But then even disregarding my wife’s apprehensions, I could not have allowed them to stay in our immediate neighbourhood.
It was now past dusk. Assuming that they had reconciled to the situation and calmed down, I sheepishly opened the door. They were all still there. No movement. Everything seemed in order. Soon they would fly away and we could go to sleep as usual. But they proved me wrong. All of a sudden, they swarmed into our bedroom, making us run for cover. I quickly shut the other door and hid ourselves in another room. I wondered if they had identified the culprit! I tried to smoke them out twice, but shortly after they were back with a vengeance. For two days and two nights we had to sleep in another room. Yes, they had uprooted us from our regular bedroom. The angry wasps must be saying, “Tit for tat”!
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
