Kill Baby Kill

Have you never thought of killing...let's say, your spouse?

May 04, 2026

Ok I will ask again s-l-o-w-l-y. Have you NEVER thought of killing your spouse?

Come on.. I mean not like permanently. Like you want to kill him and want him back alive in a few minutes like nothing happened. Temporary kill, basically. I mean if you killed him permanently where would you find another spouse to kill when the urge comes back.

Anyhow, so as it turns out, in my case, these violent thoughts are reserved for a friend and spouse only. Not family or relatives. a) Because they are too inconsequential — why waste a good kill. b) Because they might be the only people who might get you that bail or that lawyer. c) How many relatives can you kill. I am not a mass murderer. Am I?

I do want to bump off ‘bad drivers’ on the road. But apne haathon se1 (figuratively speaking) I have imagined only killing two people.

Killee No. 1

Pallavi, the friend. I wanted to kill her every morning when she would stop to say hello at work. It wasn’t just a simple hello, it was a “Kaun hoon main? Kaun hai hum? Kya kar rahe hai apni zindagi ke saath? Acha tumne ye kiya, toh2” type of hello. And I wanted to kill her for that. (and because I also think she was responsible for Covid)

So may be a blunt force trauma on the head. Too violent? Ok, maybe like trip her (push her) down the stairs. Make it look like an unfortunate accident.

Nothing happened. Obviously. In fact, when she left the office I started missing her shit-hellos quite badly. Disclaimer: I absolutely love Pallo! And she is very much alive.

Killee No. 2

The spouse. The most violent I have gotten with him is the ‘snore nudge’. When he snores right into my ears, I nudge (maybe PUSH or HIT), he gets up startled “Kya hua, sorry, sab theek”, the snore is disrupted (yay), and I apologise profusely to the groggy spouse “arre chot lag gya, sorry, neend mein ho gya”. The problem is I need him to snore (proof of life and all that) but not very loudly. Just a purr. Maybe a little louder than a purr.

On a more serious note, when there is a fight, I do want to kick him out of the house. Like kick-in-the-bum kick. The physical act of kicking. He maintains that he still loves me even through disagreements. Breaking News: I don’t and I also ‘want’ to kill him. Breaking News Again: The ‘want’ dies soon enough and the love begins to crawl back in.

A confession —the last time there was a disagreement, I very nearly went and joined the Rifle Club in Trivandrum. Very nearly.

But if I had to had to bump him off (temporarily of course), I would probably trip him down the stairs as well. Make it look like an unfortunate accident. Tripping seems like my thing! Disclaimer: I love my husband. And he is very much safe!

Paavam, he is writing love letters for me!

The Killer i.e. Me

Anyway, if I were to increase my scope of killing (people wise) I definitely wouldn’t want human touch or proximity. So stabbing and strangling is out. I don’t want messy. So stabbing and poison is out. All that frothing and foaming at the mouth! I would like a decent looking dead body. Clean. Dignified. That is the least I, as a killer, can offer to my killee.

I wouldn’t saw off body parts either. Too much effort. And too much cleaning post kill. Clean the spot. Clean DNA traces. I am not Dexter! If anything I am bad at cleaning.

Once in college when mum decided to visit me and stay with me, I cleaned up the room. I swept the 8 feet by 6 feet room and with zero idea about where to dump the dirt, I “swept it under the carpet”. Quite literally. My cot. She obviously knew where to look!

I also don’t want to be on the run. I am too lazy for that. I wouldn’t attribute it to old-ness because I was lazy in my younger days as well.

A long time ago, when I told my parents that I would run away and get married (I kept throwing different scenarios at them to check for the least offensive one), they looked at each other and smiled (I am sure there was a smirk somewhere). Mum said “Sure. You will never make it past the gate”. She was right. What was I even thinking!

I may aspire to be Dexter but in reality I feel guilty of just letting such non-paavam thoughts plague me. “Am I the only one” “Main aisa kya hoon” type of questions keep surfacing once in a while. But something happened a few weeks ago that restored my faith in God and humanity.

PHEW!

We were at the movies. A twenty-something Abhirami (our best friend’s cousin) and me. It was a Malayalam film — very average (so average that I had started focussing on the editing glitches). A couple came in with their five year old twin boys. The exhausted parents collapsed into the corner seats determined to watch the thriller come what may. And come what may, it did.

As the bodies started dropping on the big screen, the boys unleashed themselves on the audience. They were running around, shouting, racing each other up and down, across, and over aisles and empty seats. The only time they paused was when a thunderous lightning flashed on the screen. They froze.

They even let out a little cry. I think. That was it. I thought.

Too soon.

They resumed once it started raining. The father got up, mumbled some disapproval to the one twin he could catch hold of, and returned to his seat having done his dad-audience duties. The twin got over it in a second and challenged the other to catch him. From diagonally across the hall.

They were beginning to piss us off. I think we were the most vocal (in turning our heads and tsk-ing) in the hall. No one says anything to kids. No one wants to come across as heartless or anti-children.

My mind was at the wishing well. I wished I had those fluorescent masks that would frighten them. Maybe I could just make scary lion faces. Or perhaps kidnap them-gag them and tie their hands and legs and make them watch the whole film. Or…

“Chechi, should I trip them if they come here” came the voice from my side.

Hallelujah. There is a little criminal in ALL OF US!