Baygone for the faint-hearted.

Baygone for the faint-hearted.

I've never been one of those girls who caught spiders in jars and kept beetles in matchboxes. Bugs, especially those blessed with the power of flight, creep me out.

I am thus not the happiest camper right now, for summer in India is when the roaches and hoppers come out to play. On my territory.

I was all comfy at 3 a.m., with my legs propped up against the wall and my Macbook balanced somewhat precariously on my stomach, when a brownish black smudge darted across the white-washed walls.

Instinct had me performing kung fu moves that would have possibly made Jackie Chan proud. I put my Macbook safely away, did a pseudo somersault, and headed for the Baygone bottle I kept under my desk for emergencies as such. I had to fumble a little with the plastic wrap, and when I whipped around with my finger on the nozzle, the pesky roach was nowhere to be seen. Undeterred, I sprayed a little Baygone at the corner of the room, hoping that the smell would chase it away.

Fast forward to an hour later. I had just gotten off the phone with B, and was snuggled up in bed. Yet, sleep wouldn't claim me, and for a good 45 minutes, I drifted in and out of semi-consciousness with the nagging feeling that something was watching me.

Finally, I threw off the blankets and switched on the lights. Lo and behold, the black smudge, or what looks like a mutated cockroach, was on the floor five metres from me.

I hesitated - could I close my eyes and pretend that it'd go away, or would I spend a sleepless night in paranoia? Paranoia won, and I crept around it for my trusty Baygone bottle.

Squirt. Spray. Squirt. Spray. It look about five sprays before the roach stopped struggling. With an old magazine, I swept it away.

And no, sleep did not come easy after the mini-workout. I spent another hour brushing at my face and legs in the dark. India. Sigh.