Finit

Uf! This nasty smell had almost ruined my taste buds. “Ooo, suno, Finit le aana. Finit daal dena.”

Finit was an integral part of my life when I was growing up in the seventies. At a very early age I was introduced to this deadly chemical, which my mother would spray religiously on my grandfather’s bed to kill the small black monsters who happily enjoyed sucking the sweet red fluid from him.

Ammi, as we called our mother, entered the bedroom of my grandfather, which was on the ground floor next to the drawing room. It was a large room with two small windows opening at both sides. The sunrays couldn’t reach the room directly because of the long veranda, so it was slightly dingy. Ammi switched on the bulb and the room filled with yellow light.

She would open the small tin very carefully, then pour out the transparent liquid, which had a pungent smell, into a metallic pump, unknowingly letting everyone around know what she was about to do the next minute. She very carefully sprayed Finit on all the sides and the corners of the bed, hoping to get rid of the attackers. She then put white pillow covers and a dark-coloured bedsheet across the bed. It was her duty to make Dada’s bed every evening. Ammi pushed the piston and the liquid gushed out in all directions from the other side, with force. We were fascinated by its function, and as small kids my brother and I would watch curiously from a distance. We were warned neither to touch it nor to go near it.

My brother, who was two years older than me, was a good friend of mine, except sometimes when we fought badly and I tore his books, as I could not bash him back.

This was the time when my grandfather went out for his evening walks. Ammi, as a usual bahu, was content that her sasurji would be pleased with her when he had a sound sleep after dinner.

We had noticed that Dada always kept something in his pocket, and at times took out a handful and popped it inside his mouth. Several times we enquired, but he never revealed his secret. I was desperate to know, so along with Bhaiya I conspired a plan. I whispered into Bhaiya’s ear and his eyes glistened.

Ammi went inside the room and completed her task. Both of us had an eagle eye on the proceedings. Soon she left the room, went to the washroom, washed her hands, and proceeded to the kitchen on the first floor, climbing twenty steps. It took her at least two minutes to reach the kitchen, as it was at the other end of the house. I tiptoed till the tenth step to confirm her entry to the food factory.

Bhaiya winked at me and I reciprocated. We were on a mission. We gently opened the door and silently entered the smelly and semi-dark room, risking ourselves from two ends. First the fear of getting caught, and secondly the hazardous smell. But we knew our priority. All our senses were active. Touching and feeling, we could make out the things kept in the room. We tried our best to replace the things in their original place after examining them carefully. It didn’t take much time to succeed, as two pairs of skilled hands were in action.

Suddenly I found a big white cotton pouch from under the pillow. I pressed my hand hard to feel it. Yes! I could feel the dry fruits. Without a second thought both of us grabbed our shares and triumphantly left the room, leaving some behind in the pouch.

Uf, not at all. Wow! What a soothing smell.