Lessons from The Small.

July 17th, 2025

There’s a rat in my house. Or maybe, I’m in his. He was here first, after all – burrowing into the walls, learning the rhythm of slippers slapping tile. I came later, uninvited.

He tours the kitchen at night, eats what we leave behind. Call it rent, if you will. I hear him in the crackles of plastic wrappers nobody remembers opening. We’ve locked eyes a few times, each accusing the other of trespassing.

But, he fears me. I see it when he shoots back to the lonely corners whenever we cross paths. I’ve caught myself thinking about him, even when he isn’t around. Rats are, after all, consummate survivors. Maybe there’s a lesson there – about staying small and unseen, but living to fight another day. 

July 18th ,2025

I met another rat today, on one of my post-dinner ambles. I thought of the one at home, but this one was different. His body told a story I didn’t want to hear. Dry blood caked like rust down his spine, skin peeling like bark, an ear bitten off, a leg dragging lifeless. And still, he sat by the toe of my boot. 

Man’s world was unyielding – footsteps slammed, the air above him cracked open by iron monsters belching smoke. I nearly stepped on him, but he didn’t flinch. “Uska jaane ka time ho gaya” (it’s his time to go) said a passing face. I stood there torn, heart sinking watching a life slip away. 

Part of me ached to carry him home, to be spared the shame of walking by. Part of me thought it insulting. Could my sympathy be an act of vanity, easing only my own pain? He didn’t wait for me to decide. Ten seconds later, he limped back after his next meal into a river of traffic.