Women's T20 league to get underway in India this June

MUMBAI: The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) has confirmed rumors that a women's T20 cricket league along the lines of the celebrated IPL has been established and is about to get underway in June this year, in a press statement this afternoon. "Indeed, we are starting a women's IPL. The phenomenal success of the IPL has prompted us to consider a similar league to give opportunities to the women cricketers that represent various teams so that they can come together in a celebration of T20 cricket.", BCCI president N. Srinivasan was quoted as saying. "Of course, this was Lalit Modi's idea since his ouster from the IPL, but we have embraced the idea nonetheless", he added.

"We will win the WIPL"- Shakti Kapoor,
owner of the Lucknow Londiyas

The bidding for franchises had started as long back as February 2012 and over the past year or so, no less than eight teams have been signed. However, in stark contrast to the men's IPL, most of the teams in the women's IPL (WIPL) have smaller cities as their center rather than the metropolitan cities. Seasoned Bollywood star Shakti Kapoor, who bought one of the high profile teams, the Lucknow Londiyas, oozed with more than just confidence. "Aaauuuuu! We will win the WIPL. Tunna Tunna.", he said with typical flamboyance that has endeared him to the public over the years. Kapoor is also keen to give chances to budding uncapped women cricketers from across the country. "Any girl who wants to play in the IPL can come and see me in my office from 9 pm to 6 am. I want to see your talent", he said with a wink. 

Among the other Bollywood celebrities to own a team was the accomplished director Karan Johar, known for his brand of critically acclaimed cinema. Johar, who turned up for the auction in a shirt with an alarmingly dipping neckline, bought the Punjab based team, Chandigarh Chamiyas, and was looking forward to what he referred to as "team bonding"  during the first season of WIPL. "I really love to bond with my crew members. I feel it brings out the best in them. Look at Shahrukh, for example. Results do matter, but at the end of the day, it is all about loving your family", said a visibly emotional Karan Johar.

Karan Johar, owner of the Chandigarh Chamiyas,
says the focus is on team bonding

Not to be left behind, the Indian prime minister Dr. Manmohan Singh announced the launch of the team Ferozepur Firangis, which will be the first sports team in the country that will be officially owned by a political party. "Congress has announced a budget of 250 crore to build team Ferozepur Firangis over the next five years. We are confident that together, we will achieve the goals we have set ourselves" he stated, not mentioning clearly what those goals were. Rumor had it that though Dr. Singh was the mouthpiece of the team, the major decisions would be made by a higher power, as was evident from the team name. Dr. Singh was quick to dismiss these rumors. "These are baseless facts. We know who is behind that. This is a concerted effort to destabilize our party. The perpetrators will be put to justice. Law will take its own course", he mentioned while looking confused.  The slogan of the team was reported to be "Theek hai.".

Sahara India Pvt Ltd, who were the sponsors of the IPL team Pune Warriors XI, entered the WIPL fray by launching the team BeSAHARA Behenjies. The WIPL has already had its share of controversies when the Shiney Ahuja owned Nagpur Naukranis was ruled by the supreme court to be renamed as Maharashtra Maharanis as the former name was provocative to the owner. Among the other teams were Chennai Choris, Aurangabad Aurats and Goregaon Goris. 

The tournament will consist two groups of four teams each which play each other on a round robin basis. The top four teams  from each group (i.e. all four teams) then advance into the super eight stage where they play against each other on a home and away basis. The top four from the super eights qualify for the semifinals. The entire WIPL is scheduled to include all of 74 matches over a period of 45 days. 

Isn't that a huge number of matches? 

"We have tried to keep the number of matches down to a minimum" said Ratnasekara Kulaweera Mudiyanselage Jeevika Hashantha Selgum Fernando, the Sri Lankan representative of the WIPL, "just like my name", he chuckled. "We want to make sure everyone gets a fair number of games and our sponsors are not disappointed."

Male cheerleaders will be the norm in WIPL

Among the rules of the tournament that are different from the IPL, there will be four strategic timeouts in each innings, one each of which can be called upon by the batsman, bowler, wicketkeeper and the sponsor. The timeouts shall happen even in rained out matches, Srinivasan reiterated. "Previously, we have lost a lot of time due to rain. This time we will make sure the strategic time outs are not compromised because of this as they are very critical to the game", said Srinivasan. Since it takes only five overs to constitute a game in the case of a rain interruption, does it mean there will be a time out after every over? Affirmative, according to Srinivasan, "Absolutely. In shortened games, strategy becomes even more important. Which ball to hit, which fielder to target, which commercial to display, it is all part of careful strategy."

One of the more eyebrow raising feature in the WIPL is the employment of male cheerleaders, a move suggested and endorsed by none other than the owner of Chandigarh Chamiyas, Karan Johar. "I am absolutely thrilled about this. We need something for the male, I mean female spectators too." he was quoted. Won't this account for poor viewership from male spectators? BCCI has a solution.

"The team uniforms are designed to look like cheerleader uniforms. We will keep it short and sweet, just like T20 games. It is very important that everyone sees their talent" said Shakti Kapoor with another wink.

Nathan Bracken: Almost a WIPL contract

While Steve Waugh quoted a month back that he would like to see a female cricketer in each team of the Australian T20 tournament Big Bash League,. Srinivasan was asked whether the reverse was a possibility in WIPL.

"We are considering it at the moment. It is not an impossibility. Right now it is quite a challenge to fill up these eight teams with just women cricketers. You know there are a lot of unbought players in the IPL. We welcome them to undergo sex change operations and take this wonderful opportunity to play for the WIPL. In fact, some of the team owners have offered to cover the operation charges if they feel the players are worth it. Some players have tried to sneak in to the auction even without an operation but that is a huge risk they are taking." He was referring to the case of Nathan Bracken, who was almost bought at the WIPL auction last month before his masculine signature on the contract gave him away.

So, will the pay package for the WIPL match those of their male counterparts? The answer was a resounding no. Jhulan Goswami, the fast bowler who plays for India, said it was disappointing. "The packages are extremely modest. It is slightly more than the government job I am currently employed in. The good part is that the HRA they are offering me is 35% instead of 30%." Goswami was in the process of negotiating a contract with the Goregaon Goris as we were interviewing her. "Unfortunately the BCCI is turning a deaf ear to our concerns and asked us to consult sporting bodies which deal with sports and games other than cricket. When we reminded them we also play cricket for India, they said they will look into the matter."

WIPL is all set to take centre stage this June

"25,000 per game is too less.", she was overheard as saying during the negotiations.

In response to this, Srinivasan said the WIPL was not without challenges. "As people invest more and more, we (BCCI) can make more money. That will help us popularize the game and add a couple more teams in a year or two and make even more money." And what about increasing the pay packages? "The women draw comparable remuneration. May be a few lakhs less but that is about it. If they want to earn more money in cricket, they can join the IPL." he retorted, "as cheerleaders of course."

Lalit Modi, who came up with the original idea of WIPL, was also present at the press conference. "I can assure you that the WIPL will be total fun. There will be lots of entertainment, Bollywood stars, cheerleaders, commercials, and lots of women in skimpy clothes. Isn't that what IPL is all about?"

"Oh, and there will be cricket too." he added.

The WIPL kicks off on 10th June with the Chennai Choris taking on the Goregaon Goris in a match at the Margadarshi School Cricket Ground in Virar.

We hope.

                                                       

Primer

You know what they say about first impressions. The first time you enter a country, the city in which you land and the first few people you interact with form the initial impression in your mind, like a primer. For example, a foreigner who lands in Mumbai may have a very different perception of India compared to someone else who would land in say, Chennai. The same is the case when you join a new company or a work place. While the forthcoming experiences may add on to the primer to form a smooth coat or wash it away into oblivion, it is worth remembering that the primer is all that one had to contend with in the initial few days, and the role it played in initiating the arrival of an assortment of shades that made up that final layer of paint we call opinion should not be forgotten.

In this article, I look back at some of the interactions I had with various people in my department within the first few weeks of my joining. It is imperative to keep in mind that USA, a smaller representation of which is my department, is multicultural, multilingual, multiracial and multiethnic. Therefore while some of my interactions have been confusing, some amusing and a few downright hilarious, they have made me think and realize that, no matter how seriously we think of ourselves, there will be someone somewhere to whom we'd appear as amusing as I found some of the people I will describe below. Needless to say, these should be interpreted with a pinch of salt.

Note: All names in this article have been changed for obvious reasons. 

Episode 1: What's in a name?

One of the first interesting incidents that happened was on the very first day I joined. A senior in the lab, Shraddha, was kind enough to take me around the department and introduce me to the students, staff, post docs and scientists. Around lunch time, we happened to be around the eating area of the lab, named as the "break room" replete with a dining table and chairs, microwaves for people to heat up their lunches, a couple of coffee machines, refrigerators, shelves and racks for food storage and what not. The dining table was occupied by four to five people, merrily enjoying their lunch while discussing food, science, shopping and weather, not necessarily in that order. Shraddha, a popular person in the department, grabbed attention as soon as she entered the room. 

"Hi guys! Did you meet the new post doc in our lab? He is Gautam. He just joined Philip's group today."

Shraddha beamed across the table.

Everyone greeted me warmly. 

My name has been something whose right pronunciation in this country is a concept I can only dream about. While it has "conveniently" been tweaked to be pronounced, written and even printed wrongly from the Korean sounding "Gu-Tam", interchanging "A" and "U" to generate the coded "Guatum", to an envelope addressed to Dr. Skenoy (seriously?) and the ridiculous sounding "Thank you for your business Mr. Shendy" (which resulted from a cashier reading capitalized O as D on a printed bill), it has been a disaster waiting to happen.

While the aforementioned modifications happened much later on, I got a clue of what was coming when the various people on the table tried to say my name. I shall not attempt to describe those, as spelling some of them is beyond the scope of the English alphabet.

Seeing the struggles, Shraddha offered to help out.

"It is Gautam. The first name of Buddha. Haven't you heard of the founder of Buddhism, Gautam Buddha"?

One of the enthusiastic ones, David, promptly expressed his thoughts.

"Oh! I didn't know Buddha had a first name!" said David, impressed and amused by the newly acquired information.

"I thought Buddha was a single name, like Madonna." he went on to explain his thoughts in clear words.

That was the first and only time I have heard of people talking about Buddha and Madonna in the same breath.

Thankfully, Lady Gaga has a first and a last name, though both don't make sense.

Episode 2: Two Big Cities

The break room awarded me my second amusing incident of the week soon after I recovered from the Buddha vs Madonna conflict. This time I happened to find my way there on a leisurely afternoon, and caught up with two gentlemen having their cuppa.

Noel, the taller and the more intelligent looking of the two, asked me about my background.

"I belong to Southern India, though I did my PhD from Delhi." I explained.

"Delhi! I know Delhi!" said an excited Gordon, who had been silently, but intently listening to our conversation.

Noel and I looked at him.

"It is a big city in India right?" Gordon looked at me, posing a semi-rhetoric.

"Yeah. It is the capital of India. It is a big city." I was more than happy to oblige.

"Yeah that is right. I know Delhi." he told me learnedly.

"I know two big cities in India," he continued, "Delhi," Gordon took the last sip from his cup, "and Bangladesh."

Noel looked confused now.

"I thought Bangladesh is a country." he said, sounding unsure.

"Is it? It might be a country then. But I know Delhi." Gordon was assured bout the latter.

"Yeah, it is a country, I am pretty sure." Noel was clearing his doubts.

One man's ignorance is another's assurance.

Sometime next week, I met Ramaswamy, a senior post doc on the break room table. He was pulling Harish's leg, the latter being an Indian who has been born and brought up in the USA, about the general knowledge, or the lack thereof, among Americans with respect to anything outside the US. Since it was a friendly humorous conversation in the right spirit, I shared the conversation I had with Noel and Gordon.

"I am surprised they've heard of Bangladesh at all." remarked Ramaswamy.

He went on to narrate an incident that had led him to say what he did.  Apparently, someone he knew, a young lad called Mike wanted to go to Arizona State University for college from his hometown in Kansas. On being asked the reason "Why Arizona?", what Mike said was,

"I've always wanted to live near the ocean. I am tired of living in a landlocked state."

"But where is the ocean in Arizona? asked a confused Ramaswamy.

The world according to Mike: 
The part outside the landmass is the "ocean".

"To the south ofcourse." chided Mike. "Haven't you seen the map? There are no states south of Arizona."

He was right, except that there was the minor matter of a country named Mexico that happened to exist there.

There is a reason why people say that general knowledge is about as (not) general as common sense is (not) common.                                                                   

That, however, is a topic for a different day.

Episode 3: Number Crunching

Our department was a strong one in terms of sheer numbers, and the head count crossed the three figure mark in the summer of 2011. So, for the first couple of weeks, I was meeting some new person or the other every day. Strangely, while I need more than a glance to register a face in my mind, remembering names comes easily to me. Therefore, before long, I could name a lot of people in the department that I had been introduced to, without really remembering how they looked.  

One such time I bumped into a Chinese girl in the department. She was all smiles when she saw me headed towards her, which was a sign that I had been introduced to her before.

"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully. She had one of those smiles which made the face light up.

"You are the new post doc in Philip's group", she informed me. "I am sorry I don't recall your name", she said apologetically.

"Gautam." I said, smiling back at her, expecting a weird sounding version of my name to be repeated.

To my relief (as well as disappointment, to be honest), I was spared the horror.

"I might take some time to remember that." 

I appreciated her honesty.

"You are Xiaoqing, right?" I knew she was. That was easy. Among the Chinese I had been introduced to, only one was a girl and her name was Xiaoqing.

"Yes!" she beamed at me, pleasantly surprised. "You are very good with names."

After a brief chat where she gathered basics about where I came from and the likes, I posed her a regular question.

"So how long have you been here?"

"This is my forst year." 

Did I mention she had a heavy accent?

"Oh! This is your first year too?" I asked enthusiastically, wondering whether I had finally met someone in my age group.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no." Heavy disagreement there.

"This is my.." Xiaoqing held up four fingers, "Four-st year."

"Oh! Fourth year?!

Xiaoqing nodded in agreement.

We chatted for another ten fifteen minutes but her accent got the better of her and what I ended up remembering from our chat that day is how she pronounced Ramaswamy as Llama-swamy (a South American camelid turned ascetic?) and her appreciation for the fact that her boss gives her the freedom to "sink independently" about her project. 

Pun intended? You never know.

Episode 4: The Curious Case of Girish

Indians are never found wanting when it comes to dishing out entertainment, intentionally or other wise. There were quite a few Indians in the department as well as in the institute itself, and it was just a matter of time before I knew most of them.

During the Virginia earthquake of August 2011, we had exited the building and were awaiting instructions for a period of about a couple of hours. The mass of people that had congregated outside formed groups the way they do, by designation, nationality, department or simply leftovers who didn't fit into the other groups. It was at this time that I got introduced to many Indians including a guy who continually cracked jokes to have the people around him in splits most of the time. He was Shridharan. He was tall, had a shaved head and wore glasses. His eyes shifted continuously as if something was distracting him all the time. After exchanging pleasantries, we even figured out that we had a common friend outside the current institute. 

A few days later, it was deja vu as a mass had once again congregated outside the building, this time due to a mock fire drill. And as luck may have it, I ran into Shridharan once again. From his body language, it was apparent that he recognized me.

"Hey man!" A typical dude exchange.

"This stupid fire drill has taken out most of my morning." he complained.

"Yeah, it should be over soon."

"So how is life?"

"Good. I am more or less settled in now."

"Good. So did you find a school for your son?"

I smiled at him. "I don't have a son."

"Atleast that I know of."

Shridharan saw the humor and smiled back.

"Oh yeah, I am sorry. It is a daughter, right?"

I smiled again. "I don't have kids, dude.

You are confusing me with someone else."

"Oh is it?" he looked confused for a moment.

"Has your wife moved in or is she still in Mumbai?"

My smile grew wider. "I am not married." 

"Oh, ok!" There was absolutely no change in his expression.

And at that moment the security guards announced that the fire drill was over and we could enter the building and get on with our business.

"Finally! What a relief!" He did look relieved.

"Alright then, Shridharan, I'll catch up with you later."

"See you, man. You are Girish, right?"

"No, I am Gautam." the smile hadn't left my face.

"Oh! Gautam, is it?"

"Yeah. So this Girish is this friend of yours whose wife is in Mumbai and whose son needs to join school?" I asked him lightly, still grinning. "When you meet him, make sure you don't confuse him with me." I added cheerfully.

"I don't know anyone called Girish." He gave me a look as if I had just accused him of something grave.

"Well then, where did Girish come from?" I genuinely wondered.

"You just look like a Girish to me." With that he smiled at me and went his way.

The smile on my face gave way to bewilderment. I admit I was stumped.

I still haven't been able to explain to myself what exactly happened that day, or how the minds of certain people work.

Maybe I'll die wondering.

And that my friends, is a brief collection of some of the more memorable incidents I remember from my first few weeks here. What happens to the primer remains to be seen.

Just last week, I was sitting on my desk talking to a young American research assistant in our lab and couldn't help but notice that she was able to pronounce my name as well as that of my recently migrated friend Hridesh to near perfection.

"You've got to give it to them", I thought. "They are making an effort; and with this kind of Indian influx into the country, they'd soon be far more comfortable with our names."

And that was when someone from Hridesh's lab came looking for him.

"Your friend Radish, has he come in today?"

"Yes, Hridesh has come in, I think he is reading by his desk." I sent him off in the right direction.

I couldn't suppress a quiet smile.

His priming has just begun. 

After all, he has just started his forst year..

Ricky Ponting Fined for Sydney Ton- ICC Suspects Foul Play; Orders Probe

The International Cricket Council (ICC) has fined former Australian captain Ricky Ponting eighty percent of his match fee for scoring a century in the ongoing test match at Sydney. Sharad Pawar, the president of the ICC, said that the $400 fine was justified for letting down the immense expectations that cricket fans had harbored before the start of the series.

"Ricky has obviously disappointed all of us", said Pawar in words that were as clear as they were minced, in a unique sort of a way. "He has been under the radar for the past few innings now. People do not pay money to watch this. Ricky is a role model to people like Steve Smith. He should not set wrong examples.We are ordering an inquiry into the matter. Foul play cannot be ruled out. While foul play is generally used to describe the way Aussies play their cricket, there are chances that we have been missing the bigger picture all along."

"The first hint of suspicion arose when Ponting started hitting the ball far more frequently than he ever has for the last few seasons. At once stage, he even middled three balls in a row. We have video evidence for this."

"Under the circumstances, we all know that Ponting could not have made all those runs without any help. We have reason to suspect the involvement of a bigger nexus. The exclusion of Harbhajan Singh from the Indian attack, for example, has been puzzling and got us thinking about a bigger scam. Pretty much everyone who watches cricket knows that Ponting can read Mandarin better than he can ever read Harbhajan's offspinners, even the ones that don't turn."

"If we do find them guilty, we will not hesitate to put the on trial. You saw how ICC kicked Amir, Asif and Salman('s) Butt. We have zero tolerance." said Pawar in angst.

Searching for answers: Ricky Ponting

 

When contacted, Ricky Ponting conceded that he had made a mistake.

"It was obviously something I did not do on purpose", explained Ponting. "It was a run here, a run there and suddenly, without realizing, I was a hundred plus. No matter how much I tried, the ball kept finding my bat. This is obviously something I have been working on. I am batting well in the nets. Most of the balls hit the middle of my pad. It is just a matter of time before that translates into performances out in the middle."

Michael Clarke, who is the captain of the current side, said he had full faith in Ponting, and was confident that he would bounce back from this debacle soon.

 "I've known Ricky since I was a stupid young lad, who knew nothing about cricket", said Clarke, referring to the 2009-2010 season. "Ricky would never do something like that on purpose. He knows what he can and cannot do. One of the evenings when we had gulped down a couple of bottles in the bar, Ricky told me how much Australian cricket meant to him and how he would do everything to protect the reputation that greats like David Boon, Greg Chappell and  Steve Waugh had given our team. You could take one look at his career and see how mush he strove to protect the spirit of Australian cricket. Over the years, he has relentlessly toiled to claim grounded catches, argue with umpires about right decisions, foul mouth the opposition, spit on his hands before shaking hands with the Poms and do everything else that Steve Waugh would have been proud of."

"Ricky knows what he can do and what he can't. For instance, I was next to him when Andrew Strauss won the toss in a 2009 Ashes test and told Ricky he can bat. Ricky told him, 'No, mate, I can't. I really can't.' Now it takes extreme confidence to say something like this. Of course, England went on to bat first and make a huge score and won the test comfortably. But that is irrelevant."

"I know Ricky shall come back strong from this. He is a dirty old fighter. I am sure he will bounce back with single digit scores and hopefully even get a couple of ducks before the end of the series. It is funny how cricket fans are so short sighted, he has played consistently over the last two years with an average of nearly 27 and not one century to his name. It has to be some sort of a record. Even in the recent South Africa series, he got off to a good start with three single digit scores before his form waned towards the end of the series where he made a seventy odd. Where were his critics then? He gets one century now and look at how people are calling for his head. Ridiculous."

Clarke went on to say that he did not disagree with the imposed fine, but would appeal against it as a matter of principle. "That is just the way we play our cricket, and we as a team, are proud of it. We always appeal, it doesn't matter to us if it is out or not, or whether that ball bounced a couple of times before we caught it. This is no exception, and who knows, things might just go our way again. However, I am confident Ricky won't repeat this in the near future."

Symonds: An enigma in himself

The incident sparked widespread interest among the cricketing fraternity, equally so among the greats and the not so greats.

Andrew Symonds, a former Australian cricketer closely associated with Sydney and who had been nominated thrice for the "spirit" of cricket award, tweeted " A ton at the SCG? No monkey business!! I feel really sorry for Ricky. We used to have so much fun punching each other in the face.  Hoo Hoo Haa Haa! I am going out for a drink at the Bananas Pub."

"Ricky is an inspiration for wannabes like me", said an excited Steve Smith, glad to be asked his opinion on anything at all. "Not everyone who plays for the Australian team has talent, but that doesn't mean they should not nurse any hope. We look at him and think, if he can stay in the team, so can we." Steve Smith top scored with 26 runs for Tasmanian Bullies XI in addition to his impressive returns of 1-76 in 10 overs against NSW Pussycats in a  match on Tuesday, and was hopeful of a test spot soon. "If I keep playing like this and get a few more twenties, and Ricky fails a few more times, who knows what could happen?"

Michael Hussey, another veteran who made a century in the test match, was quick to jump to Ponting's defense. "Give that guy a break. He certainly doesn't deserve this hundred after what he has done for Australian and world cricket. He should have been dropped at least a year back. I don't know why selectors are treating him so badly. With his age and the kind of form he has been in, he should be hunting ducks in the wild rather than getting them on the field like he is. He certainly doesn't deserve it."

Steve Waugh, never the man to shy away from the limelight, was typically distraught as he was pretentiously critical. "Ricky has hit a bad spot, no doubt. If you see this innings properly, it does appear that he tried his best to get out, as there were a couple of chances that went down. Maybe he should have tried harder. At the end of the day, he doesn't want to make a difference. I looked at some of the stats and it appeared that the ball hit the center of his bat about 43 percent of the time, which is much higher than the 20.9 percent that he has managed over the last couple of successful years he's had. It is obviously something he has to work on. His bat is not used to hitting so many balls in the center. Even his footwork seemed present in that innings. Generally, he shows the best footwork on his way back to the pavilion."

Ian Chappell, one of Ponting's greatest fans and one of the most neutral commentators ever in every Australian's opinion, said, "Looking at the way he made those runs, I am thinking of making a comeback to test cricket myself."

The spectators also expressed their disappointment. Michael Beer, holding a bottle of whiskey, was at the SCG. "The moment Ricky walked in, we were waiting for his wicket. There was huge anticipation about how he would get out. Unfortunately, it never happened.I don't know what came over him. It hasn't happened for a long time that we've had to wait for a Ponting wicket. We are immensely disappointed and want our money back."

"Hope this doesn't happen again, else that will be the end of test cricket." he added.

The ICC, while ordering a probe to look into the circumstances under which Ponting scored a century, sounded out an alarm for the SCG curator as well.

"Pitches that allow every Mike, Ricky and Hussey to score tons are simply not acceptable. For all you know, even Brad Haddin might have scored a 30 plus on this wicket. These substandard wickets will be examined by our representatives and appropriate action will be taken.", said Ruwana Kulaweerapatabandigahare, an ICC official who didn't want to be named for obvious reasons.

There was also a warning for the Indian bowling attack.

"This is their second breach. In the world cup quarter finals too they had allowed Ponting to score a century. One more breach will lead to severe disciplinary measures being taken against them. This is bad sportsmanship. They are disappointing cricket fans the world over. We will be keeping an eye on them for the rest of the series."

"At this rate, even tail-enders like Stuart Broad will score centuries against them." Wait, but hasn't he, already?

"We have spoken to the Indian team management and said they will avoid a repeat of this in the rest of the series."

The third test starts on January 13th at Perth, Western Australia. Everyone will be hoping that the Sydney ton was an oddity and will not be repeated in the near future.

Amdu

It was one of those Fridays when I had no plans for the weekend. When I trudged into my apartment on that fateful evening, I found a piece of paper on the floor. At first it struck me as something that might have fallen off the trash can that morning. I picked it up to examine it. Surprise, surprise!! It was a handwritten note somebody had slipped under the door. Now that got me thinking. The last time somebody left a note for me was when the housekeeping lady found that I had left the window open during a rainy day when I had the "precious" television set I had rented from them for the first month lying around somewhere within "wettable" distance. What had I done this time? 

Surprise again! It was not from the housekeeping lady. The contents of the note were somewhat like this: 

"Hi, I am your new neighbor in apartment no. blah blah blah. Just wanted to let you know that a couple of my friends are coming over later tonight. We'll try to keep it down as much as possible. Feel free to drop by if you want. Best regards, Amdu"

A lot of things about this note intrigued me. First, why does one have to inform me that he (I assumed it is a he, as a "she"wouldn't have left notes inviting strangers over) is having a party next door? And further, why invite me, since he doesn't even know me? Certainly unheard of in India. Hey, wait, neighbors do invite you over for Satsang in North India, when they play loud music (devotional, mind you), rendering all and sundry awake in the name of God, regardless of his approval. Aptly christened (no pun intended) Jagran, people stay up overnight, and make sure neighbors do too, voluntarily or otherwise. Such a scenario seemed unlikely in this country, even if the neighbors were Indian. 

Now, since I had nothing to do that weekend, and also since I had no friends in Baltimore so far, and even more so because of the social bug that I am, the invitation seemed pretty tempting to me. So I asked one of my friends here who has stayed in this country for a year more than I have. 

"It happens frequently here," she explained, "Playing loud music is generally considered rude and unacceptable, but on weekend evenings, it is more or less acceptable to a limit. The best and the most polite strategy that people adopt in this situation is to invite neighbors over. While people are not actually expected to go and join in, it is considered as soliciting an unofficial approval.." 

I took in the information carefully. So, I wasn't expected to actually join in. So I turned my attention towards the last and the most intriguing thing about the note (which you would have already guessed since it is the name of this blog post), which was the name of my new neighbor- Amdu. 

I know it is quite an uncommon name, to say the least. And this is exactly how it was spelt.

The name that inspired a blog

Now, knowing how much we, humans like making deductions, no matter how unnecessary and irrelevant, it wouldn't be hard for you to imagine that I started thinking about the nationality / origin of the person bearing this unique name. Somehow, and I reiterate this, somehow, I got a feeling that this person was an Asian. That was the first thing that struck me while I heard the name. While I cannot substantiate the reasoning behind this thought, everything I thought of seemed to add to this whim of mine. When I looked at the name in the note carefully, a part of me even imagined that the hand writing had a Mandarin-like touch to it (or an in writu version of a chinese accent). He can't be Chinese, Japanese or Korean, as the name pattern doesn't suggest so (for that matter, you might argue that the name pattern doesn't suggest anything at all; but please bear with me for the time being). I thought of other countries. Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia and Philippines came to mind. He could be from any of these. Now, as I told you at least twice already on this blog post, I actually had NOTHING to do that weekend, so I did a search for the name "Amdu" on facebook (height of joblessness). The reasoning behind this was that if it is a common name in some country, most people whose names came up would be from that particular country, narrowing it down considerably (say, like searching for Kumar or Singh would presumably reveal the locations as India for the vast majority, though I wouldn't bet against Canada). The search revealed a lot of people equally distributed between USA, Germany, Ethiopia and Israel, among a few others. Hell, one of the items that turned up in the search was not even a person, but a university!! (I guess AMDU might be an acronym of some sort). And I couldn't get a look of most of their pictures due to privacy settings (and I was highly reluctant to send them friend requests) which would have allowed me to see if their features were Asian. So much for narrowing down. I still strongly felt this guy was Asian, and like a scientist who feels that the experiment is not right or the literature is irrelevant if he does not find what he is looking for, I refused to abandon the idea. 

That night, around 9:30 pm, I did hear some music. It was so soft that I couldn't make out the genre, let alone the language. Soon, my imagination flowed, and I pictured a situation where I would have accepted the invite and walked over to their place. I would be greeted by a friendly Asian guy, and would be offered a green tea and some chopsuey maybe. The hall would be full of Asians, some in flowing robes, talking in their language (with the extended word pronunciations) in an animated way, while eating noodles with their chopsticks. Traditional Chinese music (the kind I heard in Kung fu Panda and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon- God alone knows if it is traditional) would be playing in the background. I will feel as if I've entered a foreign country, and would try to soak in the atmosphere and the new culture much as I can, but would soon realize that this is not where I belong, and my place right now would be in front of my laptop, watching a critically acclaimed zombie movie (which was what I was actually doing at that moment- can you believe the coincidence?). Thus after feeding my whim till it was ready to throw up, I left Amdu and his party alone. 

The next day, I was preparing to leave for the lab for half a day's worth of work. As I was locking my apartment, I saw him for the first time. There he was, next door, locking his door too. Amdu was a young man, maybe around 23-24, with a boyish look on his face and a gentle smile. And guess what, he WAS Asian! Proud of my deductive talents, I proceeded to choose this moment to pick up a conversation with my neighbor. 

"Hi!"

I seemed to have startled him. He took a couple of moments to recuperate.

"Hi" He grinned at me politely now.

"I found your note yesterday. So, had fun last night?" I beamed at him. "I heard you guys last night. But don't worry, I wasn't disturbed or anything."

He smiled at me. His smile had a sheepish look. I have noticed that some people's smiles have a naturally sheepish look without them having necessarily done anything embarrassing.

"So you live here?" He asked in heavily accented English, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

"Yes, since May."

Once we had both locked our doors, we proceeded towards the elevator. 

"So you are in Hopkins?" I asked, out of the knowledge that most people who stayed in this locality were students in Johns Hopkins University.

"Yes. I am a graduate student. What about you?"

"I am a post doctoral fellow."

"In Hopkins?"

"No, I work at NIH, in Bayview. Which field are you doing your PhD in?"

"Economics. What about you? What field are you doing research in?"

"Immunology."

"Wow, you must be really smart." His expressions did not suggest any sarcasm when he said that. Which was strange, if I come to think of it.

I smiled, taken by surprise at this utterly unexpected response from him, and unsure as to how to react.

"Nothing like that.." I managed to say weakly.

I have no clue why an immunologist should be perceived as any smarter than an economist or somebody from any other field for that matter. What is wrong with this world?

As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, it was time to exchange introductions. Moreover, I was keen to hear him pronounce his name. 

"I am Gautam", I said, extending my hand for a shake.

Amdu shook my hand. 

"Nice to meet you." he said, without telling me his name.

Disappointed, I thought of how to turn the conversation towards his nationality/origin. Before I could come up with something, we had exited the building and gone in opposite directions after wishing the other a good day.

The next time I saw Amdu was on another Saturday morning about a 2-3 weeks later. And again, we both were locking our apartments.

"Hey! Good morning! No one came over last night? I couldn't hear anything.." I grinned at him

I seemed to have startled him again. But this time he reacted sooner.

"Hello, good morning! Going to work?"

"Yeah, a bit of work pending. So how is your PhD going?" Always a bad question. I immediately cursed myself for asking him that.

"I have just started. It has been only one year now." He didn't seem to take the question badly. Wait, it has only been a year.. 

Then I got a phone call and we couldn't continue the conversation and therefore my desire to hear him say his own name remained unmet.

The next couple of times I met him in the corridor and we just "Hi"ed each other, and since we were going in the opposite directions, a conversation was out of question. 

During this time, I remember having a conversation with my sister who too, took a fancy to the name "Amdu". 

"I think he is from Thailand or Malaysia",  I told her when she asked me about the curious nature of the name .

Soon, she made it a point to ask me about him every time we talked, just so that she could say/hear his name. 

"So, how is that friend of yours with that cute-iful name?", she would ask.

"Who, Amdu?" I'd say.

She would giggle at his name.

 "I had met him the other day.."  That was it.

We both knew that the other was not actually interested in whether or not I had met him. It was all about the name. And they say, "What's in a name!!"

That was until this unfortunate incident happened.

On this fateful Friday evening, when I was travelling out of town to meet a friend, I was locking my apartment door (again!). This time I saw someone locking the apartment on the right side of mine, as opposed to Amdu's apartment on the left side. He was a tall white guy. Looked about the same age as Amdu, but was Caucasian. We greeted each other as we caught the other's eye. He caught up with me as I was waiting for the elevator.

"So, travelling this weekend?" He asked cheerfully, noticing my travel bag.

"Yup" I said.

As I stepped into the elevator with him, a thought struck me like lightning. I didn't remember which apartment number was mentioned in that note. Was it possible that...

"So you are in Hopkins?" It was my turn to be questioned.

"I work at Bayview, as a post doc." I told him. "What about you?"

"I am at Hopkins. But I just joined recently. Moved in just a couple of months back."

That was approximately the time when I had received the note. And Amdu had told me he had been here for a year. The note had mentioned "new neighbor." How did I ever overlook that? It was all  materializing before me like a pot appearing on a wheel from clay.

I had to confirm before driving the final nail in the coffin in which I was about to bury the bloated image of my supreme deductive powers. Which was not based on any sense of reasoning, mind you.

"So, you are.. uhm.. Andy?" I asked, muttering the first Western name I could think of that could possibly be confused with Amdu.

"Andre". That was it. Crash! Bang! Thud!

"And you are?"

"Gautam.", I said, disinterestedly.

"Nice meeting you. Enjoy your weekend!!" he said cheerfully.

As soon as I stepped out of the apartment, I realized that I had forgotten to pack something. So I went back and waited for the elevator. And when it stopped, who should step out of it but the old Amdu! There he was, beaming at me, like a cruel joke.

"Hi!" He said enthusiastically.

"Hi!" It was my turn to sport a sheepish smile.

And the shy Amdu, with whom every time it was me who initiated a conversation, finds this the best moment to open up.

"So, going somewhere?" 

"Yeah, calling on a friend."

"Have fun"

Yeah, right. It was almost like we were in a cartoon strip, and he could read my thoughts. And he was having the last laugh.

Since I was going inside the apartment anyway, I decided to have one more look at the signed note I had received that day. The apartment number corresponded to that from which Andre, not Amdu, had emerged. And about the signature - It does look like "Andre" now, doesn't it? I still think it looks more like Amdu.

The hand writing that inspired a blog

But, it wasn't. So, that is irrelevant. And that is how I ended up feeling like a scientist who not just made a hypothesis, but wrote a grant based on preliminary data that was never substantiated. Hell, that sounds familiar!

So the party that I had imagined to have taken place the other night was all wrong. I might have been offered beer with pizza, they might have played rock music, talked in English, and would be wearing..... Well, let us leave it at that. Else it will be another case of, "Here I go again!".

The repercussions of my folly slowly started to sink in. For all you know, Amdu might have had his girlfriend stay over and was getting lucky on  that night when I received the note. My comments the morning after about whether he had a good time last night and "I could hear you" might have caught him.. well.. by surprise. Maybe that explained the sheepish smile. Oh, and I had even asked him on another Saturday whether no one came over the night before. Well, what do I say?

"Zeese bloody Indians, zey are funny", he must have thought.

Damn! 

To be honest, Amdu was a polite guy, not in the least cocky, but had he been so, I could have pulled off a fantastic pun about confusing a cocky Asian with a Caucasian.

Well, it turns out that Amdu's last name is Lee (boring!) - which I gathered from his mail box, and he told me he is a Korean. I still don't know what his first name is. 

And I don't want to know it, for, to me, he will always be Amdu.. 

And if universe continues to work in its mysterious ways, one day both Andre and Amdu will be in the same elevator together discussing this blog post and laughing their heads off at what an ass I am.

Now, that would be surreal. 

The Haunting - A Micro Novel Based On True Events

Preface

This is the age of small  and smaller things. Smaller, sleeker phones and slim television sets when it comes to technology, thinner wallets (a consequence of investing in the above) when it comes to finance, T20 cricket for sports, nanoparticles for science and micro-blogging for the virtual world. This made me explore the idea of micro-novels. Why not write an entire novel, replete with a preface, a prologue, multiple chapters, and an epilogue - all of which so concise that it wouldn't take you any longer to read them than to watch an Australian batsman get out to spin bowling? But don't let the word "novel" fool you into thinking this is a fictitious account. In fact, it is anything but, and just like my previous post on the blog, it is a narration of true events. So here goes..

Prologue

It was a clear moonlit night. I switched off the lights and crept into my bed. The only light illuminating my now dark room was a streak of moonlight coming in through the window. A gentle wind coming in through the open windows rustled the blinds. My eyes inadvertently crossed the kitchen floor. And then, I saw it- a shadow that couldn't possibly have been human moved across the floor. I switched on the lights and went across to the kitchen. Nothing.. It must have been my imagination. A few months back I had signed the lease as the only tenant in this apartment. The only occupant. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't alone after all..

Chapter 1: Signs

I reached home around dusk on one particular evening, and made my way into the kitchen to find something to push down my gullet while going through the regular routine of starting up my computer to check my evening mail (since I usually don't get any in the morning, either). A solitary bagel greeted me on the dining table. "Damn!", I thought, "Forgot to put this in before leaving in the morning.." Then I noticed something. There were satellite particles of bagel lying scattered near the mother ship on the dining table. A more careful examination revealed that there was a small hole in the polythene cover that the bagel was wrapped in. And that was not all. There was a small hole on the side of the bagel. Something had broken through. And eaten a bit of the bagel. In a messy way too. Thomas Bagels may even take it as a compliment. After all, "Everything on it" flavor was their most widely sold bagel. I begged to differ though.

As I chucked the bagel in the trash can, I thought of the possibilities. After ruling myself out as one of the suspects, I thought of possible pests. Cockroaches were the first to come to mind. I haven't known cockroaches to bore holes through plastic or make the ones with the dimensions I observed on the bagel.  It couldn't have been a rodent. If there was a mouse/rat/mole in my house, I'd have seen atleast its most tell tale signs- droppings by now, if not the rodent itself. Since I was new to this country and had no idea what to expect (since people here have slightly different ideas about what constitutes a "pest"), I went to our most knowledgeable friend- Google. In the next two hours I learned about various types of beetles, but most of them seemed to infest houses nearer to farms and large underground storage places rather than quaint little apartments like mine. Hugely dissatisfied with my knowledgeable friend, even after typing in a plethora of search queries that ranged from sensible sounding "common pests in Baltimore" to those that bordered on the ridiculous such as "bagel eating pests" and "plastic tearing insects", I gave up, promising myself never to leave any eatable open on the dining table henceforth. 

The mystery continued to perplex me the more I thought about it, but a huge workload over the next few days kept my mind occupied until that fateful day.

Chapter 2: The First Sighting

Come weekend, come time to travel and meet friends. And the weekend coming up was a long (3-day) weekend, for which it is criminal to not have elaborate plans. My bus was at 11 pm and I had settled down to watch "My Cousin Vinny" (highly recommended) after gleefully packing my bags. The time would be around 8:30 pm. Then, suddenly, the corner of my eye caught a movement on the floor in the living room. And there it was! Furry, four legged with whiskers, scurrying across the floor. There was no mistaking the animal whose kind I had handled day in and day out for 5 years during the pursuit of that elusive PhD degree. It was a mouse. A possibility I had disdainfully dismissed due to lack of evidence.

In five years at NII, I had picked them up from cages, handling them at will to carry out my experiments. And here was one specimen, scurrying on the floor, taking the challenge to a new level. No mouse in its rightful mind would have come within yards of me if it had heard of my reputation. But then, it probably hadn't. 

Don't get me wrong here. Being brought up in villages in India, I have seen, and effectively dealt with rodent pests before. But these were American mice. They would be different. Why, they didn't even leave droppings. I knew people "potty train" dogs and cats here, but for a mouse to have achieved this feat just speaks about the level of sophistication this country has reached. For all I know, this guy can flush too.

So I got up and reached for a cardboard box that I could invert on the little guy to trap him. This seemed the quickest option, as I had just opened a package and the carton seemed conveniently handy. The movement from my side caused a sudden rush of energy in the mouse, who until then was more keen on exploration than dashing for the nearest exit (hell, these mice have read the fire escape manual too!). So before I get to have a go at him, he disappeared into the wall. Let me explain that statement. He ran towards the heating coils (the size of a bed side table), went under it and disappeared. I beat around the coils with a stick (derived from a toilet bowl plunger), thinking he was hiding in there (and from my previous experience in handling non experimental rodents says this method works) but nothing came out. Assuming that there was a hole in the wall behind the immovable heating coils into which Scurry (let us call him that) had disappeared, I packed the area with cardboard from my would-have-been mouse trap. And since there wasn't much I could do at that time, I left for the weekend after double checking that every food item was behind a door.

Chapter 3: Of Mice and Men

When I came back from the weekend (incidentally the same one when the incidents described in "A Tryst With A Neighbor" occurred), I half expected to see my house ransacked, something or the other chewed up, and droppings (I still couldn't believe they are THAT sophisticated). Well, there was none of it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Something had to be done about it though. And soon.

Over the next couple of weeks, I was once again swamped with work, and couldn't do anything other than go back to my knowledgeable friend to quiz him more about my uninvited roommate. During this time I learnt that my friend was a "house mouse" or Mus musculus, the most common variety of rodents found in homes here. I also learnt about various methods used to trap or kill mice. But soon I reminded myself, memorizing the Plasmodium lifecycle doesn't cure one of malaria.

There was no sign of him for about ten days after the long weekend, which caused me to worry about his health. After all, I was keeping all food behind closed doors. What would he live on? I almost felt tempted to leave scraps out. For a selfish reason though. I wanted to see if he was still around. I didn't give in to this temptation because of other selfish reasons. I was just starting to think that may be he was indeed taking refuge in a hole in the wall which I had now sealed with cardboard. You know, it happens so often in scientific research that when we do an experiment for the first time, not sure of what results to expect, and it works sub optimally, we tend to make exciting hypotheses aided by some frenetic hand-waving that sound fantastic and drive us into a frenzy, only to repeat the experiment and see that when it works properly, the results that show up make our hypothesis a lesser joke compared to ourselves. So as you guessed it, I saw Scurry again.

I do not know whether my reaction was happiness, relief, or worry. Probably a mixture of all three, of which the first two are inexplicable and the third one, the only negative emotion out of the three, being understandably dominant. This time he was on the kitchen floor, pausing momentarily to look at me, as if to ascertain the fact that he had successfully caught my attention. He ran around the dining chairs before disappearing behind the refrigerator. The movement was swift, but abnormal, as if he had some muscle problem like dystrophy (and given the species name, would it be appropriate to call it Mus Muscular dystrophy?). I rushed to get my plunger-stick and turned the refrigerator around to see where he was hiding. And, yet again, there was no trace of him. Second time running.

My mind started considering possibilities again. There was everything to suggest that this mouse wasn't human. Well, mice aren't human. Let me re-state that. There was everything to suggest that this mouse wasn't from this world (I didn't mean USA when I said "world", though some people around me may disagree). Was it from the netherworld? The following points were in favor of this theory: 1) I see it only at night, which is consistent with popularly perceived notions. 2) It disappears into walls. 3) It doesn't leave droppings behind, which is unlike any other rodent infestation I have seen or heard about. 4) It doesn't appear to have a food source in its residential territory (my apartment, for goodness' sake!) and thus might be surviving without food, which is not possible for a creature of this world.

Could it be a ghost? Seeking vengeance for my actions at NII where I killed scores of mice for the sake of research? Let us consider this hypothesis critically.The first question that arises is, why one mouse? Why didn't all of them come for revenge? Visa problems? Not unlikely, considering that these mice were involved in biological research. As far as I can remember, there is no one particular mouse that I have treated worse than others, so why this one? Is it a representative? That seems difficult considering that it is coming from India. Of all the strains I have "sacrificed" for the sake of research that is ultimately supposed to benefit humanity, it would be difficult to choose one type of strain to represent the others. It is a democracy after all. If one representative is chosen, it would be from the majority. Then, wouldn't minority strains be  poorly represented? Wouldn't they require adequate representation as well? How would the representative be chosen? Given these factors, it would be required to have a group of representatives, (with an adequate proportion being from minority strains) that come to seek vengeance, among other demands (?). Else it simply wouldn't be democracy. Anything else is not acceptable.

Hence, reluctantly, I abandoned this theory. It could be a real live mouse and there could be explanations for everything else that indicates to the contrary.

Chapter 4: Mind Games

The continued presence of something troublesome, no matter how less troublesome it is, over an extended period of time can play havoc with one's mind. I was no exception, and soon I started seeing "mice" and "rat" in every little thing I came across.

For example, I was once having a scientific discussion with my boss and he said something about experiments with transgenic mice. The moment he said the word "mice", my mind switched to the "pest control" channel. I do not remember any part of the "discussion" after that point. If you think this was excusable, wait till you listen to this: I was reading news on the internet and came across an article about the sad demise of Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi. And how did this remind me of rodents? DEMISE!! De-Mice! I need to "de-mice" my apartment. There was more to come

The next evening I went to "Punjab" Indian groceries store near my home. I had gone there to buy some Indian groceries and vegetables as I was expecting guests that weekend. And while shopping I came across this packet of heat and eat "Navratan Korma". You know how that packet appeared to me? navRATan korma. I decided that was it. I needed to do something about it immediately. I couldn't let it appear over the weekend and freak out my guests.

A couple of days before, I had read up about rodent poison. One could order it at the click of a mouse (ironically). I supposed it would be easier to buy it from a shop. The question was, where? In this country, most drugs cannot be bought over the counter, even the common ones, and with the amount of mindless paperwork that is required for almost anything, I'd have to get a written prescription from the mouse to buy rodent poison, for all I know. I decided to ask the guy at the counter once I was done with the shopping.

"Do you know where I can buy rat poison?" I asked him when he was billing me.

"Rat poison? You have rats in your house?" He counter questioned. He had a calm, learned disposition. Since this guy looks Afghani,  let us call him Affy.

"Yes, I have seen one." I responded, highly impressed by his intelligent deduction.

"What happened? You have rats in the house?" I looked around to see where the  voice came from. There was this Bangladeshi man, with hair curving around his eyes as if his eyes were in parentheses, and a broad grin on his face. He definitely knew Affy, as was evident from their interaction later on. Let us call this guy Bangy.

"Yes, I do." I didn't bother to clarify it was a mouse and not a rat. 

"Rats, always a problem. You need big cages for them, and you bait with beef slices. You get cages at Home Depot." Bangy remarked.

That really wasn't great news. Home depot was far away, and there was no way I could get there and shop before my guests arrived next evening. 

"Is there nothing else I can do? Can't I get rat poison?" I asked

"If you use rat poison, it will die, but you will not find the body. It will stink and whole house will stink. Better that you catch using cages. I always use cages." Bangy sounded professional.

"Are they big rats?" Affy asked.

"No, they are small. The common mice.I live in an apartment, not a house"

"Oh! The rats I catch are this big.." Bangy parted his hands to show the size. I do not know if it was exaggeration, but his hands could hold a large cat or a puppy. If I see a rat that big, I'd move out. I hope Bangy uses  jawed beartraps to catch those things for his own good. 

"Yeah, but small mice are more common in apartments." remarked Bangy, sounding disappointed.

"You can use these traps to catch them if they are small mice" Affy handed me a spring loaded mouse trap, the kind I had seen only in Tom and Jerry cartoons before. He then showed me how to wind up the spring carefully without letting it snap on one's own fingers. It looked good.

"I use these to catch mice. Works well. Use chocolate as a bait." Affy was surely an aficionado in this matter.

"Yeah, chocolate is a good  idea." said Bangy, not to be left out.

"How much for this?" I inquired.

"Don't worry about it." Affy smiled at me.

I thanked Affy for his gift and left for home with the mouse trap in my pocket. I definitely felt more of a match for Scurry now with this as a weapon, as compared to my improvised plunger-stick, which I have to be careful while using so as to not get the plunger side of it near my face for obvious reasons.

I'd have one go at Scurry that night, before my guests would arrive the next evening.

Chapter 5: The Battle

That evening I once again visited my friend google to read about mousetraps.Coincidentally (not really, if you think about it), I came across a forum where people had discussed how to bait, trap and kill mice.There I found most of the experts, including the manufacturer of my mouse trap recommending peanut butter as the best bait for trapping mice. So, I decided to employ peanut butter. I set the trap overnight in an area where I've seen the mouse before. The next morning, there was no mouse on the trap. Only peanut butter.Well, I had lost the first round.

My guests came over, and since two of us (including me) were to sleep on the floor, I was a bit worried about whether Scurry would make his appearance around or over one of us and turn a peaceful night's sleep into a nightmare. But, credit to him, Scurry stayed off limelight that weekend and the guests had a good time, blissfully unaware of what could have been.

The night after they left, I decide to go with Affy's and Bangy's advice and tempt the mouse with chocolate. So I set up the trap, and next morning, the results were there to be seen. Scurry was caught in the trap, the clamp had broken his spinal cord as it was supposed to, leaving him dead. I had won the battle. By now nearly a month  had passed since I had first detected Scurry's activity. I felt a great sense of relief. A sense of joy was conspicuous by its absence.

Was it a female mouse, considering that it was tempted by chocolate? This was one way to define a "chocolate mous(s)e". If it hadn't fallen for chocolate either, I'd have tried bagel, then bacon or ham. If I was sure it was a male mouse, I could have tempted it by using explicit pictures of a female mouse. Or another male mouse. One can't be sure these days..

But yeah, as I flushed that mouse carcass down the toilet, I thought about all the little moments we had together. Now, don't get me wrong,  I wasn't gonna miss him or anything.

And thus I was finally back to being the sole occupant of my apartment. 

Epilogue

A couple of days later, I was rolled up on the bed, watching a movie and eating a small piece of the same chocolate I had tempted Scurry with. Then, something strange occurred to me. Where was the piece of chocolate I had laid on the trap? I did not remember recovering it from the site of the gruesome crime. There are three possibilities: 1) Scurry savored the chocolate first and was about to leave, but then came back and tipped the trap just out of guilty conscience. 2) Scurry savored the chocolate after he was dead (my favorite hypothesis, as it points towards the existence of zombies in mice models) 3) There was someone or something else that savored the chocolate after Scurry's fatal attempt to reach it. 

And then, I may have imagined it, but a movement across the floor caught the corner of my eye. I switched on the lights. There was nothing to be seen.

Maybe I wasn't alone after all...