The Lizard

A tiny lizard has just landed itself into my kitchen sink. I was just about to rid the sink of the the shining steel vessels which are submerged in dilute murky turmeric water with curry leaves floating, and smeared with potato peels and shredded cabbage. This is enough proof for the fact that I have been occupied manufacturing various dishes all morning. So this lizard offspring. Its tiny and squiggly. Sand coloured, less then two inches long and half a centimeter any other way. I stare at it for a few seconds and decide to ignore it. I have work to do and can't be bothered to rescue unwelcome lizardlings.

I turn on the tap. Evidently this creature is not prepared for the cold sprinkle. So it springs around inside the sink and tries to get out. Huh, but the water is fast and the walls of the sink don't have the grip that the climber needs. I continue in my engaging chore of cleaning vessels. Scrubber, soap, vessel. I tell the child-of-the-lizard by both verbal and non-verbal methods to leave. The lizard does not take the hint. Then I pour out the water from the cooker. This time the water is warm. So the lizard leaps in shock, I think, and lands plop on the plate that I am now cleaning. I tell the lizard that I don't like it hopping around on my plate and then politely tip the plate. The lizard falls down on the floor and waits suspiciously for a minute and then runs off in a familiar direction. I smugly smile at the scrubber and adjust the halo behind my head.