The gathering at Ittooppu's teashop was a worried lot. The goat was down with fever, it was his daughter who was serving the famed Munnar tea to his loyal clientele, who collected at the shop every morning dutifully before going to work. It was not Ittooppu's absence that caused concern to them, they would prefer tea from the hands of the pretty Kunchi any day. It was the fever that scared them. Thousands had got the fever, and hundreds had died of it.

What upset them most was that one among them was causing the dreaded disease. The mosquito. But Chinnamma vehemently objected to what she called were baseless allegations. "You know I wouldn't do this, nor my friends. We have been sucking your blood for generations now, would we do this to you?" But none bought her argument. The evidence was there for everyone to see. Ramankutty, their minister for health, and his deputy, Seematti, had both agreed the mosquitoes were spreading the disease. They only differed on what the disease was. When Ramankutty said it was chikungunya, Seematti said it was a mysterious disease till now unknown to doctors and scientists of Junglistan. When Seematti said it was chikungunya, Ramankutty said it was no more than normal fever, the sort you and I used to get when we wanted to bunk school. With no support coming her way, Chinnamma flew away.

"This thing is getting serious you know. Now we close the doors at five in the evening and keep it shut for more than two hours. That's when these mosquitoes enter our homes," said Kuyilamma. She couldn't believe something as small and lowly as a mosquito, think of it a mosquito, could be a killer.

"Yeah, I would say keep the doors closed always. No one knows of the villainous ways of these mosquitoes better than me," said Shambhu, the elephant. And he had reason to know. An area secretary of the Junglistan Congress, he had led a march against the Junglistan government for its inept handling of the crisis and inability to check the spread of mosquitoes. As a first step his party had suggested Chief Minister Tortoise Kunhiraman sack Kuttimani, a mosquito in the Cabinet. The demand was termed preposterous and rejected outright by Kunhiramam, who knew it would be suicidal to upset the mosquitoes right when their population was at its peak, especially in view of the local elections that were round the corner. Shambhu's procession had begun well, and the timing was perfect too. It was noon, the time mosquitoes take their siesta. It came as a bolt from the blue. A swarm descended on the protesters, biting them at will, injecting the dreaded virus. In no time, the activists vanished into thin air.

"That day when we held the rally, you know who bit me first? Chandu. And I thought he was my best friend," continued Shambhu, he was yet to recover from the stinging reception he got that day.

"But things are not that bad," chipped in Muthu, the rabbit. His was one of the few names registered in Junglistan's employment exchange. Many others had pulled out their names as they were convinced there were no jobs to be had in the government. "Now I take free rides in the van run by the JJP for the benefit of fever patients, have lunch at the Communists' relief camp, spend the night at the Congress shelter." Food was aplenty, but no treatment for the fever.

"Don't trust this government to do anything for us," said Thathamma, the parrot, "They are busy fighting among themselves. If we are to get rid of the mosquitoes, we have to do it ourselves."

"But what do we do?" asked Nagraj, "Write a letter to Kunhiraman? And if he doesn't listen, write one to Ajayan?" Ajayan was the hare who lost the elections to Tortoise Kunhiraman.

"It won't be of any help," said Nanappan. The graying deer was an active Communist worker, but had never fallen for the trappings of power as his friends like Ajayan and Kunhiraman had done. "These leaders won't do anything until they benefit from it."

"Then why not make a proposal they can't say no to," said Shambhu.

"Yes, exactly. What if we could transport all the mosquitoes from our village to the capital for instance. Nothing would be better than that," Kesu, the monkey, raised his voice, "Now the question is why would they shift all the mosquitoes there."

"I heard Kunhiraman is going to Munnar again. I also heard it is wet and damp there, just the kind of weather that suits mosquitoes," as Kudiyan Paramu said this, there was a glint in his eyes. He had an appetite for thrillers, and Frederick Forsyth was his favourite. He dug up conspiracy theories, had even formed a few of his own, and had always dreamt of joining the CIA or the KGB. If he could be a double agent, the better.

"What are you hinting at," asked Thathamma.

"Kunhiraman has been talking about corruption within the party, corruption outside the party, corruption on moon, corruption in Gulf, generally corruption everywhere. He has been embarrassment for the party. Right now if he where to take leave from the office for a couple of weeks, it would be of immense help to the party. What say?" added Kudiyan Paramu.

*****************************************************

They all loved Kunhiraman. They had voted him to power. But these were hard times. Fourteen days of fever would do no harm to Kunhiraman, but would save their village. A letter was drafted the same day, and sent to Ajayan.

Unknown to them a copy of the letter, went beyond the rivers, forests, deserts, and mountains to reach a place they called Indraprastha, where it found itself on the bench of a JJP leader. He and his followers had conducted a havan to bring down the government of Prime Minister Jagmohan. But now mosquitoes sounded a much better option than havans, at least some success was guaranteed.

Unknown to this leader, another copy reached the desk of the PM. An emergency meet was called. His aides rang the alarm bells. First havans and now mosquitoes. It was coming at a most inopportune moment, right when a sickle was hanging over the PM's head.

Insiders say Jagmohan is having sleepless nights. He is looking for a good knight.