I once heard that if there were a nuclear holocaust, the only creature to survive would be a cockroach. I never fact-checked it, but the image stuck. Later, I learnt more: they have been around for over 300 million years, can live headless for 10 days, are breath-holding champions, and opportunistic eaters. They eat glue, soap and even each other. To think that something so universally disliked, perhaps even feared, could also be the ultimate survivor? That impressed me. Ever since then, I have looked at these hardy creatures with a mix of respect and disgust.
My earliest memories of these reddish brown, foreboding beings date back to when I was a child. We lived in a tiny two-room apartment in Delhi. The bathroom had no opening for ventilation; it was dimly lit by a flickering bulb.
Like most dark spaces, it was frequented by cockroaches. Gradually I began to tolerate their presence. I still remember their antennae peeking out from the drain as I bathed. “Live and let live” became my motto. But yes, when the boundaries were violated, and one came too near, like every seasoned Indian warrior, I also wielded the slipper with expert aim.
Later, when my family moved to Kolkata, the house was bigger, the bathrooms were well-ventilated, and we had a regular pest control schedule. Every three months, a team would arrive to wage chemical warfare on our resilient housemates. Those were not fond memories. We would have to move everything out of the kitchen, and for days afterwards, the house would reek of gas and poison. I sometimes wonder if I owe my strength and health to those small doses of inhaled toxins.
Honestly, so much effort and poisoning, where a simple slipper would have been more efficient. It was in Kolkata that I met my most fearsome adversary — the flying cockroach. That day is still vivid in my memory. I was finishing my school homework by the lantern light. Kolkata was infamous for its power cuts, and our inverter battery lacked distilled water (a chore we always forgot). Without warning, a huge cockroach landed on my study table. I was puzzled. In my experience, cockroaches stuck to the floor, cupboards, and kitchen shelves, not study tables. I rose swiftly, slipper in hand. Just as I was about to strike, it took flight. I shrieked. That was an underhand tactic. A worthy opponent, indeed. I don’t recall if I won that battle, but from then on, I have watched them more warily and yes, I can now identify the flying ones.
Across all the phases of my life, Delhi, Kolkata Chhattisgarh, Chennai, cockroaches have remained constant. If you observe closely, I swear they come with regional variations.
Cockroaches spotted in train coaches do not result in raised eyebrows. Despite intense cleaning, fumigation and every preventive effort the Railways takes, a few invariably manage to find their way back. So imagine my delight when I boarded a plane recently and spotted a small cockroach climbing up a seat in business class, no less! I gave a silent whistle and saluted. From humble trains to premium air travel, this cockroach had truly climbed the social ladder.
The second time I was genuinely thrilled to spot a cockroach was in Singapore. I had always believed these creatures preferred developing countries. Singapore, to me, was the epitome of cleanliness and order. So when I saw a huge brown cockroach ambling across a pristine pavement, it felt like running into an old acquaintance in an unfamiliar land: one you are not particularly fond of, but still glad to see. I reached for my phone, but it disappeared before I could take a picture. Perhaps it was camera shy.
From dingy bathrooms to business class, from train compartments to Singapore’s spotless pavements, cockroaches are shadowy reminders of what it means to adapt, survive and thrive against the odds. I won’t be surprised if they show up floating in space next casually doing somersaults in zero gravity.
They thrive in poison, dodge slippers, and fly when least expected. You don’t have to admire them, but you can’t ignore them. If resilience had a face, it might just have antennae. The rest of us can only hope to dodge life’s slippers just as well.
ggayatri03@gmail.com
Published – October 05, 2025 03:45 am IST
