"It was one of the worst monsoon in Calcutta.

Three inches of murky water covered the floor of our ground floor apartment. My brother, Fu and I sat on the bed, dangling our feet over the water.

We sat and listened to the rain hitting the corrugated iron roof.

A dead mouse floated gently by and bumped against the base of a table leg.

“We should get rid of it,” Fu said.

“You do it. I don’t want to get my feet wet.”

The mouse drifted away from the table and glided toward us.

“There is something moving under the table.” Fu pulled his feet up.

“The mouse’s big mama,” I giggled.

The previous year, a sewer rat had bitten Fu’s toe while he slept. Mother took him to the doctor’s for shots, and afterwards Fu feared the doctors as much as the rats.

A silvery shape darted from under the table towards the mouse. The shape nibbled at a mouse leg.

“Fish!” we shouted.

I dove and collided with Fu. I splashed onto the floor, slid along the slime and banged my head against a chair."