The net we grew up with

On World Mosquito Day today, I cannot help but look back somewhat wistfully to our younger days when Bengaluru besides truly being the Garden City, was famous for its mosquitoes.

It may surprise, perhaps amuse today’s surfing-the-net generation to hear of the nets we grew up with. I’m not talking about the nets for cricket, tennis or badminton, but mosquito nets. Nearly every house had a mosquito net that ensured a blissful, undisturbed night’s sleep. Electric fans, like refrigerators, were not needed. The city was blessed with what was pompously called ‘brass monkey weather’!

As daylight began to fade, our household swung into ‘Operation Gnat’. It meant dusting every nook and corner in every room with a rag cloth to wake up the hiding mosquitoes and force them out of the house. Next, everyone scurried about to shut windows and doors before turning on the lights.

Step one of ‘Operation Gnat’ was to keep the dreaded winged devils out of our home. But astonishingly, some shrewd ones outsmarted us, deftly dodging our attacks to remain indoors, waiting for a bloody meal.

As the evening wore on and we got on with our business, the pesky creatures would emerge from their hideouts to begin their ‘bite and suck’ pursuit. A sudden hand swat followed by “bloody mosquito escaped” rent the air frequently.

Step two of the ‘Operation Gnat’? The ritual of tying the mosquito net just before bed time. The ends of its strings had to be tied to nails, hooks, a window bar or a door latch. Often, a photograph or wall hanging had to be removed to make way for a firm knot of the string. Next, you gingerly entered the net and tucked it firmly under the mattress. As not every bed was positioned close to the light switch, it took a special talent to smartly, and swiftly, get out of the net, switch off the light and dive back into the net, all the while making sure no mosquitos followed.

After all the precautions, we would think ‘Operation Gnat’ ended successfully; but alas, as we closed our eyes and slumped into a reverie, the annoying buzz of a mosquito came as a rude awakening. If we were lucky, we’d have it smashed after a few failed attempts in the dark, getting blood on your hands. Else, we'd wake up with a few red marks on the face or neck the next morning.

And so, we grew up clapping, waving arms and tapping feet like the Qawwali or Tap dancers, slapping our cheeks and legs only to hurt ourselves as the mosquitoes were preternaturally good at evading our assault.

Today, with electric fans, air conditioners, and mosquito repellants, few mosquitoes enter our apartments. I wonder how mosquitoes discovered Bengaluru back then and thrived. Were we blessed with too many good things that the mosquitoes decided give us a bite of reality? Who knows!