Something there is that doesn't love a lizard

Something there is that doesn't love a lizard. (Sorry, Robert Frost!)

I do not remember lizards in my childhood, strangely enough. They must have been there in the days of living closer to the ground and with open windows without meshes (a given in our Bombay life). For some reason, I did not notice them. My earliest memory is of a lizard on a hotel wall somewhere near Hubli when we drove to Madras for a wedding. I must have been under 2, going by photos of the time. 

And then, the rare visitation to our 14th floor residence which would cause a panic and have men working in neighbouring homes "rescue us" by driving the interloper out. That's when I learnt the Hindi word, "chipkali." 

There were lizards in the army home we visited at Sagar, and frogs too. But somehow I do not remember panic. I do not know what accounted for that rare moment of valour.

During my time in New Delhi, lizards outnumbered humans. They were bold, even reckless. They were all over the walls. But they also walked on ceilings, approaching fans that were running at full speed. Then and now, the thought of lizards getting caught and shredded on speeding fan blades and getting scattered like Sati's body parts or splintered atoms in a centrifuge, makes me shudder. Much to my family's amusement, I bought and placed peacock feathers everywhere but they just walked in and out of them like they were merely garden follies for their pleasure. 

The Lizard shrine at the
Varadaraja Perumal temple. Kanchipuram
Source: https://blog.yatradham.org/wp-content/
uploads/2023/12/Golden-Lizard.jpg

In Sri Lanka, where I did my dissertation research, they are everywhere, equal occupants of human-owned spaces. People do not seem to care when they perch close to the rice cooker or wander by the vegetables. Hambantota is where I first saw a lizard cross the road. (No, I do not know why!)

But me? Over the years, I realise, they bother me more. And more. And more. 

When I was a child, I remember being told that my great-grandfather--who knew everything and remains one of the two best people I have ever known and will ever know (the other is my great-grandmother)--would reassure children that since we came from Kanchipuram, no lizard would hurt us. Well, I am only 1/4 from Kanchipuram and I was over 40 when I went to the Varadaraja Perumal temple and touched that famous lizard. This did not reassure me very much.

I don't think lizards actually bite or sting humans. They are just plain creepy and dirty. Animal-loving, nature-loving friends remind me that lizards consume smaller pests and so they are good for the environment. I agree. In my view, all animals (and now I include humans, especially the animal-loving evangelists!) are wonderful at a tremendous distance from me and nature is best experienced through photographs! And I wish them all very well and far away from me. 

Anyway, with climate change pushing temperatures through the roof, the season for lizard refugees in cool human homes is growing longer. To be honest, they still creep me out and I fear one running over my toes and blot out the image of them walking over my soap or shoes (the latter, I have seen). 

But I feel a little sympathy for them too. It is beastly outside and we are responsible. They come in search of food. Outside our always-closed kitchen window, we have dinner-time visitors. I don't want to see them. I don't want to see proof of their visits. I don't want them near me or my stuff. But, where else will they go? (Well, we do have a massive arasa-maram outside our windows, but maybe there are too many people at each banti there?) 

This is a long post to write about something you really detest. But strong feelings fill the soul with words and these are words stockpiled over a lifetime. Take them or leave them. And if there are good lizard exclusion remedies, please share! 

This land is mine...

These words were written for the musical, Exodus, but they really apply to the insects and reptiles of Sri Lanka. This land does not belong to the Sinhalese, or the Tamils, or the Muslims, or indeed, any other life forms than insects and reptiles.

I have, over the years, hardened my mild, polite 'eeks' to an utterly robust horror of these creatures who traipse around, going about their business, uncaring that I cower and very occasionally, seek to stalk them with a can of anti-insect spray.

At a thousand times their size and weight, I am afraid of them, and yes, I appreciate that this can be funny.

I know ants, roaches, lizards, etc. are as important--more important--to the ecosystem than I am, but even so, I must confess they gross me out. I think about where they've been as they hover around kitchen counters and I shudder to touch books they have walked over.

The other day, one strolled in through an open kitchen window and looked up with interest as a rice-cooker sent off fragrant steam. I could not scream, and I knew boycotting the rice was not an option, so I said gently, "There is a lizard next to the rice-cooker." "Oh, it must have come through the window." Indeed.

In other places, I am sometimes allowed the conceit that they walk through my space. Not so in Sri Lanka. Vividly recalling evenings in Delhi when I would watch as two lizards wander upside down (my perspective) on the living room ceiling towards the speeding fan and imagine with dread their falling on those blades and the resultant debris, I monitor the movement of each lizard with anxiety here. My very intelligent friend makes some very intelligent observations and I note that there are three identically sized lizards running around on the opposite wall. I am the only one who cares.

As a curmudgeon utterly unenthused by most animal forms, including increasingly the human, the only space left for me is inside a discreetly ventilated but sealed plastic (okay, make it posh: fibre-glass) cube with wifi and pictures of plants on the walls. Food, water and other supplies will be supplied and waste removed by some magical system of osmosis invented by some clever but compassionate dog or lizard lover who wants to lock me up. There, I can indulge in still life photography that expresses my mystical philosophy of love for all life-forms... at a very safe distance.