According to a theory which my sister enlightened me with, a clutter in your room is indicative of a clutter in your mind. And a will to clean your room is indicative of the clutter in your mind clearing itself.
It wasn't surprising then, that the conclusion of my CET exam was followed a sudden urge to clean my room. (As well as my rectum, but we will leave those discussions for a different day.)
So here is exactly what happened. I returned from my ordeal of two days, the Common Entrance Test, Karnataka. Only a truly wicked and rotten mind could have thought up the schedule for the exam.
1st May
10:30 am - 11:50 am BIOLOGY
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm MATHEMATICS
2nd May
10:30 am - 11:50 am PHYSICS
2:30 pm - 3:50 pm CHEMISTRY
I much prefer the IITJEE format, 3 subjects, 3 hours, and you're done. The length of the break between CET exams is more than double the duration of each test, precisely long enough to go home and enjoy a jolly lunch without leaving anytime for any last minute cramming, but short enough to prevent one from extending their happy love affair with their bed. All this, when the sun is at its zenith and the northern hemisphere so foolishly inclined towards it. Such precisely diabolic timing is decidedly by design than by fate but powerless as we are, it must simply be accepted with a resigned smile. Not pleasant, but better than frowning and cursing.
Upon reaching home however, I was prevented from feeling the pillow under my head by the sheer number of tasks that were incessantly assigned to me by my parents and sister, tasks necessitated by my mother's scheduled trip to the US of A. Things were taking a turn into "very" diabolical.
Finally, when the exam from under 12 hours back was a far cry in my memory, I was back home, having bid farewell to my mother and finally could gently roll into the dreamland of sleep only at 6 am. The early birds had already risen, as had the sun.
A decent sleep, a good breakfast and a better cup of coffee (naturally followed by a few minutes on the pot) later, I could finally gauge where I was. In a cluttered, dusty room, for whose state even an assortment of all the toughest exams in the world weren't a sufficient excuse.
So, I went to my sister, inviting her to peek into my room to lend me her cleaning expertise. I had one question to ask her. "Where do I start?"
Smilingly and instantaneously she replied, "First clear everything off the bed and the table and bring it all on the floor, then start." It is human instinct to view quick answers with suspicion and apprehension. Taken aback as I was by this simple assessment of what I thought would be a handful for even a team of rocket scientists, a few moments of reflection aided me in seeing the sense and the brilliance of this suggested scheme.
Without wasting a moment, I proceeded to my room, ready to fling everything at an altitude greater than 12 inches back to ground-level, before I abruptly stopped again. For I saw the inherent, flawed assumption on which her excellent plan was based.
Unwanted things have an uncanny knack of finding their way to the neglected corners of homes. When you're looking for something used sparsely, but just enough to prevent it from being flung into the bin, simply search in the messiest room of your home, and you'll find it nine times out of ten.
The flawed assumption my sister made was that everything in my room belonged to my room. Which was as far from the truth as the Southern Hemisphere is from the sun right now.
Soon, however, I overcame this difficulty, selectively evicting the unwanted from my room before following my sister's game-plan.
Three days of toil and diligent work later, I find myself perched pretty on my bed covered by a spotless sheet, neatly arranged blankets and pillows, within a room, everything arranged immaculately. My room is clean at last.
I remain perched, though, with mixed feelings, something deeper than satisfaction. Puzzled, almost. By myself. Was my mind in such a clutter as my room? And did the clutter of my room clear by virtue of the clutter in my mind going the same way? I'm convinced it's the other way around.
My small room, hardly any larger than three standard cubicles put together, held much more secrets from me than I could imagine.I constantly reflect within her walls. I grapple with the metaphors to life that she lends me. It is where I truly live.
And as I cleared her off the load on her back, got her into order, I found little things of joy. My old nintendo pokemon cartridge (That was a sweet one). Old books, with their delightfully soothing smell. My ear-phones which I had thought had gone forever, even causing me to stop listening to music at all.
All the rubbish, each piece of paper that was so ruthlessly crushed and tossed into the bin held a small fragment of my life-story. Random scratches, notes of years ago.A failed poem.
My room had turned into the garbage bin I thought, but now I think otherwise. It had turned into a treasure trove, unwilling to give away the gold within.
Today, finally, after shutting the laptop screen, after nearly two months away from her, I can sleep within her confines, warm, light, music in my ears.
Boy I missed those ear-phones!!