TO CLEAN OR NOT TO CLEAN.....

‘’Impossible is nothing, nothing is impossible.’’ Whoever said that wasn’t really thinking straight or, they weren’t thinking at all. In all probability, the rate of thought process would have been below 0.5% to say the least. If there is one thing that is impossible, it is cleaning my room. Let me make things clearer- it is impossible for ME to clean MY room.
Many moms all over the world , after reading this would probably gnash their teeth and mutter in disgust, cursing me and dubbing me as the Grinch who stole the joys of cleaning. Oh well, the world is after all made up of many Don Quixotes.

To begin with, I'm very, very, very lazy (read indolent, lackadaisical, apathetic, don‘t-carish,)when it comes to cleaning. I really don’t care if I’m submerged by my books or clothes. In fact, only in this messy state does my room ever give me the feeling of being ’my room.’ Most normal kids would clean their room everyday or once in awhile because of that driving force called MOM . Some others, strange weirdos that they are, are clean freaks themselves and cannot sleep a wink if their room resembles a tornado-cum-earthquake hit area.

Mom indefatigably goes on about how I should tidy up messes as and when I make them and as far as possible, try not to make them at all. Alas and alack, that piece of counsel mulishly refuses to stay put in my head. However, miracles never cease, and once in a blue moon, I find myself surrendering to my mom’s entreaties (or are they coercions camouflaged as patient entreaties ? :P ) and decide very virtuously to clean my room. I assume the air of a warrior bravely approaching the deadly battlefield as I enter my room.

Cleaning my room is a Herculean task to me, which explicates why, I so wisely dedicated my life to not cleaning it in all these 18 years. Cleaning my room would mean tidying every nook and corner and no-leaving-the-corners-unclean crap. This means I have to follow the adage ‘ A place for everything and everything in its place.‘ Sounds easy?? IT IS NOT. When you have a zillion things out of place, you don't really know what or where that right place is!!!!


Now, the task entails me picking up an arbitrary article in my room and finding its correct place. Then I realize that it is not going to work, so, I embark on my mission of torture by cleaning out my clothes and book cupboards. I throw all the clothes carelessly onto the floor and place my precious books on the bed. Half heartedly, I start folding the clothes when I unearth a book that I haven’t read in ages. I steal a quick glance at the clock. I’ve been working hard at folding my clothes for the last five minutes and allow myself a well deserved (?) break. I pick up the book and promise myself that after the first chapter I shall resume folding my wretched clothes. Before I realize it, one and a half hours have passed and I have officially cleaned my room for five minutes consistently. I hastily push all the other things into place haphazardly and get to making the room look fallaciously tidy to save myself from further admonitions . Over the years however, I have come to realize, that this is not the best of ideas , especially considering the fact that my mom (like every other mom in this world) has a pair of eyes that could put a hawk to shame.


"Why is this book lying here?"

"Make space for your college books here and put the other books elsewhere.’’

"You missed a spot - not that spot, this one here.’’

‘’ Clean your room on a daily basis and do both of us a favor.’’

‘’Don’t forget to clean under the bed …………………………….......’’


For the first time in my life, I stare at mom dumbfounded and no words come out as she fires
ahead. I fumble, mumble and curse under my breath. Then, I assure her that the room will be clean, just as she wants it to be, and hurriedly clean the room, while casting surreptitious peeks from the corner of my eye to see if she's left the room. When i'm completely certain that she has, I rush to the door and slam it shut. Now I'm back to my book. When over five hours have passed, my room is eventually clean, and I look worn-out, exhausted, beat, pooped, done in, etc. I'm also sneezing incessantly , as a result of the truckloads of dust that have been uncovered in the process of cleaning. Eyes watering, befuddled, peeved, annoyed, teed off, irritated and terribly sleepy, i flop onto my now clean bed pull the blanket over my head as if to shut out everything and anything even remotely connected to cleaning in particular.


I wake up from my nap and go for supper. Mom comes into my room, nods approvingly and says ‘’ see, now you’ll be able to breathe easy and be more organized,’’ as I look at her in a resigned manner. I wake up the next day and am late for college. I am unable to find a dupatta to match my churidhar. I am unable to find my project file. One sweep of the things on my table, a good tensed forty minutes and a profusely sweating me later, I find my file. I sigh in relief and look up My eyes widen in shock and disbelief.
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MY ROOM IS BACK TO ITS MESSY STATE!!!!!!!