In a delightful and vibrant village of Dhoolpur—where cows occupied most part of the roads, Wi-Fi was a myth, and gossips traveled faster than scooters—lived a man named Madhav.
Madhav wore loose white clothes, spoke in sentences of wisdom, and believed deeply in inner peace… unless mosquitoes were involved. Then, he transformed from Madhav to Bruce Lee in 2.3 seconds.
The Attack of the Bloodsuckers
One night, Madhav sat on his floor mat, enjoying his cool evening like a calm potato, and listening to Jagjit Singh’s timeless ghazals.
Then came the soundtrack of his nightmares:
Zzzzzzzzzzz…
His left ear twitched.
He opened his eyes wide.
Zzzzzzzzzzz…
He swatted. Missed.
Within moments, he looked like a man possessed. He abandoned his songs and reached for his ultimate weapon: Mortein Extra Strong.
He sprayed the room like someone trying to finish his deodorants to order new ones. The air became so thick with chemical fog, even the cockroaches started coughing.
Finally, the room fell silent. The mosquitoes were either dead, unconscious, or in another dimension. Madhav whispered,
“Peace achieved. Victory to inner calm.”
The Next Morning Drama
The next morning, Madhav went to the village tea stall—an unofficial United Nations of arguments and opinions.
As he sipped his masala chai, a local loudmouth named Ramu pointed at Madhav’s ancient bicycle and yelled:
“Oi Madhav! Did you ride that cycle here or summon it from a museum?”
Laughter erupted.
Another chimed in, “Bro, it makes more noise than pressure cookers!”
Madhav’s ears twitched. Ego: stung. Pride: itching. His mind was already composing a verbal mosquito spray:
“Oh yeah? At least I HAVE a vehicle. You’ve been riding on gossip and chewing gum!”
But then, in a moment of self-awareness, he paused.
The Enlightenment
He remembered the previous night, when the mosquitoes entered his room. And he didn’t spray the entire neighborhood. He sprayed inside his room.
“Aha!” he thought, “When mosquitoes enter, I spray my room. When bad words enter, I must spray my mind.”
So, instead of replying with a comeback, Madhav smiled.
He sipped his chai, looked at Ramu, and calmly said:
“My bicycle and I, we’re both old and noisy—but at least we don’t run on insults.”
The tea stall fell silent.
Then it exploded with laughter.
Even Ramu slapped his own thigh and said, “Aree wah! Madhav with sarcasm!”
From that day, Madhav knew when to kill with kindness and when to let mosquitoes buzz themselves out.
⸻
Moral (with extra Mortein):
Your ears are the windows of your body. When you keep it open, you have to expect praises and commendations, as well as insults and bad words to enter. Spraying your anger outside will never kill the bad ones. What do you do when mosquitoes enter your room? You spray inside, not outside.
Likewise, when nonsense enters your ears, spray calmness into your mind—not sarcasm from your mouth.
Inner peace isn’t about sitting silently; it’s about not turning into a fire-breathing dragon when someone calls your cycle a junkyard.
So, the next time someone’s words bite you—don’t slap them with yours. Spray your thoughts with patience, and remember:
Your tongue doesn’t need to avenge your ears.
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