An old proverb  says,  “Even the minutest thing in the universe is created for a purpose.” It  made me brood for days.. I used to think; think endlessly about the underlying cause of my creation. The Houseboys at Nutrition Institute were the first to notice that and named me a ‘Thinker’. But, my stupid cage mates never missed a single opportunity to taunt me. They called me ‘Precocious ’.  Well, I see the readers are a little confused about the jargon associated with my genesis. So let me clarify.

 I belong to the progeny of   ‘Swiss Albino Mice’ and a domicile of  an sophisticated Animal-House of NIN Hyderabad.  My hereditary tree was well recorded. I, a prestigious inbred was supposed to be produced from parents who were siblings—generated   from a similar pair; carefully selected for the noble cause of medical research.    While creating us our procreator Humans had suffered selective amnesia about the concept of ‘incest’ and compelled our parents and forefathers into the ignominious relationship.  They had encouraged our ancestors to breed within the family for generations after generations, to ensure the development of uniform physical built and mental alertness that was a prime requirement for pharmaceutical research.

Then how come I, the youngest of the lot, could be cleverer than others? The thought troubled me no end, until I heard a plausible explanation. From the conversation of the Houseboys, I learnt that on a certain valentine day, an absent-minded worker was thinking about his girlfriend.  He had left the cage door partially open. Then, one lovesick, robust native mouse had invaded the cage in search of leftovers and established illegal affair with an inmate. They said that the intelligence gene of that shrewd forefather might have passed into me through one of the affected females. I, however, because of my fair complexion have been included into the elite but intellectually challenged groups of SAM-29, which has got a certification of inbred species from the Chief of the Animal House.

Well, coming back to the topic—my less intelligent but more vociferous siblings of the same cage had always taunted me as ‘Philosopher’ as I used to think a lot. When I told them that our royal stay at the air-conditioned cages of National Institute of Nutrition was going to be short-lived they called me ‘ Sadist’ too. How I wish their ‘myopic –mice –intelligence’ could forestall destiny. So one unsuspecting day, when we were counted, packed and thrown into the special compartment of an Indian Airlines plane, they woke up to a rude shock. After suffering untold pain and humiliations throughout the journey, we were finally dumped into the tiny cages of a small room. But even  that respite was temporary. Soon there was a controversy about the ownership of that dark dungeon and we were moved; Right into the hub of a brutal activity –a research laboratory.

Except me, all my siblings were morbid with fear. Only I strived to overcome the panic and look for the brighter shades of life amidst the disaster. Once the inhibition was over, I found the place quite interesting. Unlike our previous home, where I could identify almost everyone, here I could barely distinguish between our caretakers .There, our attendants looked like long white cylinders in their aprons. Here, the white cylinders were mostly replaced by ‘wavy forms’ tapered in the middle and expanded in the bottoms and tops. I learnt within no time that they were female section of the Humans—respectfully addressed as Misses. Men adored  them.  For some unknown reason, I too felt lesser animosity towards these Misses than their male counterparts.

 The materialistic comfort of NIN was gone but here I had   exposure to education: One the best available education,  in the country of my birth, India. My cage was placed near a table, where books and bottles were kept in a pile. The first lesson was about the impermanence of life.  I could see that some of my fellow mice-beings were tied on operation table, split open and their organs harvested. It shattered me but hardened me too. I was determined to make the most of the little time that remained of my little life ,  before being  sacrificed  for the glorifying cause of research.

 The place was a laboratory for PhD work and living, eating and breathing in that educated environment, I soon picked up the objective way of looking at things as well as their language. After that, I never faced any difficulty with my South-Indian origin. English was the favorite medium of information-exchange of our multicolored attendants—the ‘Researchers’.  A senior man, who occasionally visited the lab, had enriched my vocabulary with some special expletives too. But he would  use a different language —Bengali. The man was the key motivator of all activity –the Professor and group leader.

 Our arrival was a much-awaited event for the Researchers. One ‘Missy’ was particularly excited. On the day of our arrival, she had handled me. It was one of the traumatic experiences of my life.  The smooth rounded hands of that glamorous little Missy had sharp pointed nails! When she struggled helplessly to hold me by the neck, those armored fingers were  hurting me. The idea of escaping had entered my head then -- the first time. Unfortunately, a sturdy man with nail-less efficient fingers came to her rescue and dropped me into the cage abruptly. But the idea of escapade stayed with me.

 As time passed I realized that the Missy-with-nails was the star attraction of the laboratory.  Men craved for her attention. Slowly, I also forgot my initial grudge and started liking her. After all, though mouse, I was a male!  And Sujata, as her friends addressed her, had a kind soul. Often she would come to my cage and talk to me in un-intelligible sound codes—“UUU—hoe –cuthee—sweeethe—softhe—etc”. The English I learnt in the lab did not convey the exact meaning of those codes but my instinct told me that they were endearing expressions.

Here, I first came in contact with a female mouse, which was a free citizen of animal world. She roamed wild in the freedom of the wide-open world. Born in a discarded closet of the neighboring lab, she knew   the Institute as well as her little sexy tail and traveled freely in and out of the Departments. But the ‘God -of –Animals’ had allocated her a different set of problems. The white albino female lacked the physical aggressiveness to survive in the fiercely competitive environment of the open world. In the domestic dustbins where her superiors fought for pieces of leftovers, she used to be a mute spectator. God rescued her by providing an easy source of food. Braving the risk of imprisonment, she had stayed on in the laboratory, from where her mother had escaped. 

To provide us healthy fresh food, Researchers used to cook in a huge cauldron; within the laboratory room itself, daily.  She used to visit the lab in the evening, to eat the persistent food that stuck to the sides of that cauldron, after a cursory washing.

It was the classical attraction of opposites. We envied her freedom .She eyed our food bowls. Through the narrow openings of the wire mesh, which formed the walls of our cages our emotional exchanges continued. Clinging on to the opposite side of the bar-wire, we shared our experiences of struggle. But there too, her attention was not equally shared. She started showering special favors to me.  Possibly, she was attracted to my intelligence and started looking forward to a combined future for us, from then on.  We felt special affinity for each other though it brought heartburns for my cage-mates. I think,   I was in love—an extremely happy state of mind—for the first time of my life.

  The happiness of that divine platonic experience was transient. Sumanta, an evil genius intervened.   One day he smeared some yellow paint on my back, spoiling the sparkling whiteness of my fur. The very next day, he requested Sujata to force-feed me; an extremely unpalatable preparation was pushed into my gut everyday through a long steel needle. My whole existence revolted to its taste and I used to go into manic aggression at her very sight. At times she would force the needle deep down my stomach leaving me twitching in pain. I was getting desperate. I knew my tiny mice life was created for a cause and one-day Humans will sacrifice me for some noble research-and I had come to terms with that. But the daily torture was too much. I started praying for death-- to deprive them the pleasure of killing me. Except Mini –my mouse girl-friend, life had lost its meaning. She was the only soul to give me courage for living and look towards a future:  future that could materialize only through a miracle. But miracles do happen. But for it I would not have been alive to tell you my story.

 One day, the lab was in wide alert.  From the rusted old wire-cages, we were moved into   sparkling-clean brand new fiber cages and provided with litter-free clean husk bed. New ones replaced old bowls and old bottles. The sudden elevation of our status had its reason. Following the excited conversation of the Researchers, I learnt that a science movie would be shot in the lab with us as protagonists.

At that time I did not know what it would mean for me, but without that realization too, I looked forward to the event, as it took the attention of our oppressors away from us. Professor was a busy man. Decked in his orange-pink American T-shirt, he started shouting at everything and everybody, in the name of instructions. Sometimes he  shout at us too.

Then came the D-day.  A strange character presided over the show. The Misses and Masters of the lab, decked in their finest clothing were assisting him reverentially. The sharp flashlight was trained towards us and suddenly, Sujata came forward and extending her armored hand pulled me out of the cage. On the other hand she was carrying a pointed needle and was trying to push  it into my skin.

There was a problem! The Beauty was in dilemma!!! Her elegant dress was covered with a white coverall but she wanted to display at least a part of it along with her captivating ‘Miss laboratory’ smile. Balancing the dress, needle, smile and non-cooperative me –all bothered her and she was trembling.

 Beneath the painted nails, I could feel her shaking fingers.  An interminable series of’ Action’s and ‘Cut’s followed, each making me more non- cooperative than the former. Finally when she could touch the long needle to my lower abdomen and stay in that position for a few seconds -the job was Okayed. Relieved, she dropped me and I fell down to hit the earth, but--outside the cage! People were too busy in complementing the actress and nobody noticed   whether a miniscule lab animal had been properly rehabilitated or not.  I slipped unnoticed under the table to the freedom of open wide world -to fulfill the happy dream of a united romantic life with my mouse girl friend –Mini.

My cage mates were not so lucky. I visited them quite often from my hideout—a dirty closet of a discarded cupboard. They made a miserable sight. Injected with a disease-causing germ they had aged prematurely. I could not bear the suffering and subconsciously prayed a speedy termination of their life. It was answered. One after another, they were taken out and a part of their leg was extracted for DNA—an important scientific material.  

Initially I thought, once my disappearance had been detected, there would be an intensive search operation. Actually only two members were aware of it. Sujata  -- whose negligence had caused my release and   Sumanta, the evil intellectual, who claimed my ownership for the present life.

His colleagues referred the slightly built fair man as Dr. Dusmanta, -- after the opportunistic hero of a Sanskrit drama. He had placed another hapless specimen inside the cage to cover up my disappearance. But he exploited my departure to his advantage. Using her mistake as leverage, he started dictating Sujata.  Inside the lab he would order her to weigh hazardous chemicals and feed the animals of his share. Cleaning glassware used by Sumanta had become her unofficial duty. While her lab mates passed meaningful comments insinuating a romantic affair between the two, I saw the man enjoying a muffled laughter  while the lady controlled her temper with clenched  teeth. Sujata had a complicated problem. Sumanta— belonged to the Professor’s caste and was his uncontested favorite. Outside the lab also, Sujata had to adorn the backseat of Samanta’s motorbike to boost up his macho image.

  Finally the day arrived when all my contemporaries were gone and the newer arrivals had occupied the cages. Since the pleasure of discussing the common past was no more, Mini and I visited the laboratory only for food--- during the evening when the laboratory was bereft of humans. Surprisingly, one day we found Sujata during the evening hours. She had stayed late to assist Sumanta for the preparation of a seminar. The genius was to have his PhD viva that week.

An attractive food package was being discussed. In anticipation of a great feast, we started visiting the lab every day.

That week, the lab was interesting. Euphoric about a new medicine, the Professor would invite his colleagues and talk nonstop about his groundbreaking discovery. Sometimes people from press would come; have enthusiastic discussions with the Professor about something called “patents”. But  Sumanta-- genius-creator of the new medicine was not his old self. Even a mouse could detect that something was troubling him. Daytimes he would be away to arrange for a new job at USA. But his evenings would be spent in some secret experiments that extended till night.  Though everyone else was elated about his innovative discovery, my extra intelligence told me that, Sumanta was not. Something indiscernible was bothering him. He did not even look energetic about that grand feast, his Ph.D viva.

The venue of the ceremony was ‘ Seminar Hall’- a wonderful eating joint. Apart from the fridges and ovens to preserve delicious foodstuffs in a small backside chamber, it also had an impressive platform, a big screen   and series of chairs facing it. During grand festivals like PhD viva the reservoirs  would be filled to capacity for the benefit of erudite scientific dignitaries. So we decided to occupy our hiding place near a waste-bin well ahead of time.

 That day Sumanta was politeness personified. Decked in his special Raymond suit, he was entertaining an audience with an illuminating talk: on the discovery  of a miraculous medicine that would bring enormous benefit to the humanity.

Suddenly the screen over the stage came alive with pictures. And Lo! There was the photograph of me with that pointed injection! Sumanta was extolling the properties of that great medicine which had given me strength to struggle against a deadly virus. The audience gave an appreciative response but I recognized a faint murmur –“Liar!”

 It was Sujata. I wanted to have a through look but  the next moment the picture was replaced by another  - a tangle of long threads with my code mark printed below it. Sumanta was displaying my chromosomes,   which was supposed obtained after killing me.

“Aren’t you going for a patent?” An energetic young visitor ask the inventor.

“I was expecting that.. Though we made a great break through, we have a minor problem to solve. The medicine while curing the infection, has caused a little chromosomal defect,” Sumanta answered politely pointing his long stick towards the tangle of threads called chromosome.

“How long will it take before you go for a patent”? , The curious Youngman was persistent.

“In science you can’t give a guarantee. May be few years, may be few decades” Sumanta gave a charming smile and made a gesture of helplessness.

As we slipped through the backdoor after stealing bits of samosas, we stumbled upon a whispering campaign at the stairs.  Sujata was publicizing the secret know-how behind that phenomenal new medicine. To a group of avid listeners she was confiding that Sumanta had sacrificed a hapless rat in my place to produce irrefutable proof of that genetic defect!

It was a shock! I had taken   my miraculous escape from death as a blessing of fate but   highlighting me for a genetic defect was too much of a coincidence.  I could have gone crazy –searching an answer; why Samanta chose me-- an escapee mice to demonstrate the effect of his medicine? But my erudite wife had suggested an answer. She said, Sujata - privy to Sumantas investigations –was sworn to secrecy in matters where I was concerned. She could not afford to make my escape a public knowledge and call his bluff openly. Sumanta could safely use a Rat in my place and use the defect as a valid reason to avoid pressure for patenting his imaginary medicine. Rats-- our apparently similar big brothers had a chromosomal arrangement slightly different from us.