My house being situated a stone’s throwaway from a huge drain, paved the way for many of the rodents finding their way into my kitchen. The constant grinding of their minute, yet razor sharp incisors against the pipe, trying to get in, stopped in a flash, at the flick of the kitchen switch. When turned off, the arduous task went on unabated. Few were successful though in entering the kitchen.

Once I happened to surprise a baby rat, by walking in without putting on the light. There he was, staring at me, in the middle of the kitchen sink, fear drove him crazy and he slipped on the edge of the sink trying to escape.
Instinct or rather the panic of having him jumping on me, made me invert an empty can of horlicks over the shocked rodent, I quickly slipped a sheet of thick paper under it and shook the can till I could swear he was dizzy. Then holding the bottle precariously I took him out and tossed him into the drain where he joined his relatives.

A rat trap found its place under the sink, with a piece of fish in it, to woo the hunted. My husband was in for a rude shock when a little rodent was found munching on the piece of fish, seated happily outside the trap.
This menace followed me even to my office. The old building housed many a squirrel, pigeon and rats. The rodents scampered around and my colleague from whom I learnt the word Musophobia, shrieked in fear, horrified by their activities. Many a time, her seat was found empty on spotting this little rodent scurrying by her legs.
The menace worsened and the office authorities got the brain wave of sprinkling a deadly powder in every nook and cranny. Within the next hour, paralysed rats could be spotted, as they had feasted on this new delicacy.
The powder worked wonders, for the next morning the gentle harmless squirrels would also be found, lying around — dead. A totally unexpected scene.

Unfortunately the stronger rats still continued to run about.