When Karma Has Six Legs and Lives in the Door Frame

Or: what termites have to do with my capsule wardrobe.

Monsoon madness and insect plagues

As always, chaos greets us when we return to India. During the hot, sticky monsoon season, not only do the plants on our rooftop terrace grow like wild—the insect populations explode as well. Within hours of stepping through the door we discover ant highways crossing our apartment. And as if that weren’t enough, the termites have clearly been thriving too—though at first we don’t notice a thing.

When the door frame comes alive

Termites are among the most pests here. They hollow out wood from within, leaving the surface untouched. You only realize what’s going on when they suddenly come spilling out of the door frame. Within minutes they’ve swarmed around my bedside lamp. That many insects at once? Instant panic mode.

Luckily my husband has a pragmatic idea: the vacuum cleaner. After an hour of suction warfare the invasion is superficially under control.

But it’s obvious—this is just the tip of the iceberg. To actually get rid of the termites, the whole apartment needs to be treated.

Poison clouds in the bedroom

Our landlord first reacts with disbelief, then shock, when termites come flying straight at his face from the hollow door frame. In a flash he grabs a spray bottle and douses them with undiluted insecticide. The creatures drop instantly, already decomposing mid-floor—so strong is the poison. Unfortunately, this “more is more” method leaves every room reeking of nerve toxin, and my bedroom (with everything in it) contaminated.

So I drag out all my clothes and start the giant decontamination wash. Towering heaps of laundry pile up—and that’s when it dawns on me: this would have been the perfect moment to launch my capsule wardrobe project. But first: termite war.

Escape and alternatives

My son and I retreat to friends’ place to escape the fumes. Meanwhile it becomes clear: this can’t go on. I need a different product. After some research I find something less toxic, so the rest of the flat won’t be saturated with chemicals. Even so, we decamp to a hotel. For days, workers march in and out from morning till night. “Cozy” isn’t quite the word.

The vacuum warrior

The next evening we meet the landlord at the apartment to check progress. The moment the hallway light comes on, flying insects gather again—this time from my husband’s room. The landlord, visibly disgusted, shrinks back. My husband calmly suggests the tried-and-true method: vacuum cleaner.

And so, with the nozzle raised high like a medieval lance, he goes termite-hunting once more. The landlord looks appalled. Ducking the swarm, he bolts for the door.

A shift in disturbance

For once I feel it’s us who have unsettled an Indian. Usually it’s the other way around—me being unsettled because the reactions around me don’t match my own logic.

So I shift perspective: my husband, a Germanic warrior charging into battle. The enemy? Tiny, defenseless termites. The weapon? A household vacuum. Probably the most absurd tactic our landlord has ever witnessed.

It’s a scene straight out of Ghostbusters—minus the proton beams—but one we’ll never forget.

Karma and the capsule wardrobe

As miserable as the infestation has been, I doubt I’d have emptied my wardrobe so thoroughly otherwise.

Maybe the termites are my own karmic push toward minimalism—only this karma has six legs and prefers to live in a door frame. Let’s see how things play out next monsoon.

What this episode taught me:

• Always keep control over how insecticides are applied.

• A vacuum is the best first aid against swarms.

• An empty closet is a gift—don’t waste the chance for a fresh start.