I hear there are two hundred or more of their kind. Some even go on to say, and here the mind boggles, the number is more like three hundred (and counting). Their agenda, pursued with single-minded devotion, is to inflame the membranes that line the nose and throat of puny humans and cause them utter misery.

I am of course, talking of the cold viruses, all three hundred (and counting) of them. If I had a gun, which I don’t, luckily for them, I’d shoot every single one of the three hundred (and counting) of the viruses and lay them to rest, without peace if you please. That is how fed up I am of them and their shenanigans.

‘Is everything okay with you, Shail?’ you want to ask me at this point. ‘Why so het up about a few viruses, practically harmless ones at that?’ you add. Well, if you do, my dears, then you haven’t been me when I catch a cold.

Believe me, I have seen people sail through their cold attacks with ease that makes me green with envy. As for me, it’s anything but a smooth-sailing affair. I look (not just to myself but to others too), and feel, like a train wreck.

It all starts innocuously enough, a slight throat discomfort. Hmm, I tell myself, my throat feels funny. Let me do a saline water gargle. That is almost like a bugle call for the Great ‘Cold’ War (not to be confused with the cold war between the US and Russia in the past) to begin in earnest.

The enraged viruses, one of the three hundred and odd varieties (Thankfully, each kind visits you only once. Small mercies, I must say!) spread like fire overnight, making my throat burn (no voice). What’s more, within a few hours, as dawn approaches, they march further south and burrow deep down into my lungs (no breath).

Spiteful whatchamacallits that they are, they do not stop there. Taking the whole thing as a challenge, they sail up to my nose and jam things up sufficiently to set my whole head throbbing, and ironically enough, at the same time, they open the faucets too, making said nose leak like nobody’s business. Baffling, I tell you.

This is Grade A Disaster Time for me. On my side table are laid out the medicines to clear chest congestion, soothe the cough, and neutralise the viruses. None of them give me any kind of relief. Not even sleep is forthcoming in spite of the allergy medication and the cough syrup promising drowsiness. Empty words, I tell you. Sleep, where art thou? I wail inwardly.

My eyes throb too, in sync with the pounding in the head, with the pressure building up in the sinuses. Oh for a simple fever in place of this horrible cold, I sigh longingly, wistfully. Then, I could at least embrace oblivion through sleep. But as we all know, the Granting of Wishes Department is filled with clueless fools. More likely though that the department itself is a hoax perpetrated on the unsuspecting public.

Anyway…

There is nothing to do but suffer in silence. I am quite experienced in that. You see, I am the quintessential Veteran of Colds being a favourite of the viruses right from childhood.

But…

Being a veteran means I know something. The dawn always breaks after every long dark night. Or two, as in my case. After precisely forty-eight hours, I wake up and find myself able to talk, and also breathe. Wonder of wonders, no one is pounding hammers in my eyes or head any longer. And just like that, I am out of hell and walking the earth again.

©️Shail Mohan 2025