A slave to myself

Life should be like the sheets on my bed. Fresh and wrinkle free!
Life should be like the sheets on my bed. Fresh and wrinkle free!

The bed sheet is crinkle free, tucked tight. The clothes are sorted into categories- outside, inside, good, casual, night, home, etc. The shoes all in boxes and packets. The  room is relatively dust free (as much as possible in Delhi). The Things To Do List in my mind is endless. It is perpetually running, checking things off, adding more and dropping some. I wasn’t always like this although I don’t remember any other version of me. But I think I truly became this person in college, when I moved out. I had a lot of stuff and not enough room to store. So I planned, innovated and disciplined myself. Little did I know that in the process, I would become a slave to myself.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking about how to maximize my trip around the room to do all things I ‘have’ to do. My room is 10×12 feet and the bed in it is 6×5 feet. Do the math.

When I see Nikhil sprawled on the bed the sheet wrinkled, crinkled under him, at times I have an ‘Awww’ moment and then I try to untuck the sheet from under him. While he is still sleeping. You see what I am getting at?

At times I am bum tired and all I want to do crawl into the untidy unruly mess of bed Nikhil left behind. But I can’t. I may lie down for a bit but then I drag myself up to fix the room and sheet before I allow myself to rest.

My life is full of these instances. Sometimes I appall myself with my need to control the small, basic elements of my own life.  Actually the need controls me. Once again, a slave to myself.

This compulsive need to have everything in order is beautiful yet ugly. The outcome is beautiful but the effort and the sadistic person you become in the process is ugly.

How I wish I was one of those people who did not give a damn. Who did not care that the toothbrush is not in its rightful slot. Who did not mind sleeping on crumbs of samosa on the bed. Who did not care that the laundry is not laid properly and will have wrinkles. Who did not bother press folding the undergarments before putting them in the rightful place. How I wish I was a little like Nikhil.

But that is not the story. I know a person who would not sit anywhere once taken a dump for the fear of passing on potty fumes. I know a person who would offer clean loos at a close friends house, if it needed one. I know a person who clean the kitchen till one can eat of its platform. I know a person who hates compliments on h** beautiful thick luscious hair. I know a person who would want anyone to take a bath after a big job. I know a person who doesn’t like messy hands and dishes while eating food, so eats roti sabzi with a spoon.

Aren’t idiosyncrasies fun? They make people so much more interesting. Their plights, to many maybe amusing unless you are one of them and you totally get it. I wish whoever is reading this piece, has gotten this far and is also a slave to oneself- Smiles. We are not alone. We are never boring, never bored,

How lucky are we!

The Big Step

The first post has given me sleepless nights. It should not have since it’s a blog and it’s free will. But I am very nervous writing this because this is a big step for me.

I have been writing for as long as I can remember and my only audience has been me and sometimes my sneaky cousins. No, wait, one time I read passages to my best friend at school and her then boy friend. It was about them. And another time, I think Nikhil read some bit. Overall, the only pieces I have ever made public are all on Facebook. As status updates!

In order to change the situation here, it was important to first decide to join the band wagon and have sleepless nights wondering what I am going to write about. Critical question which kept me up for long when epiphany struck and I decided, I simply cannot write to please anyone but me. As that’s what I have been doing all my life.

Welcome to my small-big world. If you stick out beyond this post, then you will find that it indeed is small-big.

I don’t have too many passions (thus small), but the few I have are cluttered at many levels (thus big). I will write about bacon. About shoes. About Spice Girls. About Forrest Gump. About bacon, again. About Chinese food. About Marian Keyes…

Because these are a few of my favorite things…
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