This week, when most of north India saw a welcome dip in temperature following thunderstorm and rain, many didn’t rejoice. “This rain can only mean one thing...” sighed Ram Prakash Singh, a watchman in the neighbourhood. He was referring to the peril of his profession, the bane of his life — mosquitoes. Come summer, and Delhi reels under the onslaught of several species of mosquitoes, which carry malaria, dengue and chikungunya. “People like me who work outdoors all day know that while the summer heat causes mosquitoes to become inactive, the coolness brought by the rains will bring them out in full force,” he said. It will become impossible to even stand in the open. “I even keep a scarf, gamchha, to protect the back of my neck, especially in the evening, when the mosquitoes become more active,” he said. “It’s amazing to think that in spite of our intelligence and relative might, in the battle between men and mosquitoes, it is the tiny insect that always wins.”
As we were speaking, I noticed a partially open a tiffin box filled with used mosquito repellent mats. “Did you know,” said Singh setting a used mat alight like an incense stick, “these work better than any mosquito repellent coil?” He waved the smoking mat around, and in front of my eyes, a stunned mosquito floated dreamily to the ground. I felt myself involuntarily holding my breath at the thought of all those burning toxins that we must be inhaling at that moment, but Singh was unperturbed. “I collect used mats for this purpose,” he said. “It’s satisfying to watch them die so instantly, and helps pass the time.” Were there any other out-of-the-box ways he and others like him had devised to keep the mosquitoes at bay, I asked.
There is a new mosquito repellent agarbatti in the local market, he said. “It costs only Rs 15 for 20 sticks, and many of my friends are swearing by it.” However, its effect is temporary. Instead, many like him burnt anything flammable they could lay their hands on — wood, leaves, garbage, old tyres and more. “The smoke drives mosquitoes away,” he said. I explained that inhaling all this toxic smoke was wreaking more havoc with his system. He shrugged. “Who can tolerate sitting around and getting constantly bitten by mosquitoes?” Perhaps for this reason, he said, many were buying electric swatters. Cheap Chinese ones can be bought off the pavement for as little as Rs 100 today. “Sadly, these are poorly made and stop working within days,” said Singh. “The better quality swatters last longer, but cost Rs 500 — too expensive for people like me.”
All in all, the mosquito menace wasn’t just irritating, it was also burning a hole in Singh’s pocket. He estimated that he spends at least Rs 300 per month on mosquito repellents of different types. “But it’s money well spent,” said he, reminiscing about the summer when he contracted chikungunya and had to forego a month’s wages to recuperate. Our conversation made me realise how vulnerable people like Singh — watchmen, drivers, street hawkers and more — are to mosquito bites, and therefore, vector-borne diseases.
But even as the dreaded dengue and chikungunya have struck earlier than usual this year, the government’s mosquito control effort has been patchy. As Singh and his cohorts wait for temperatures to cross 40-plus to naturally rid them of mosquitoes, one thing is clear: It’s going to be yet another summer of discontent for Delhi.