“Where do I put all my stuff now? I remember this room was bigger.” Moving back home from medical college hostel wasn’t a transition as smooth as I had expected. Six years ago, I had packed all my life in two suitcases and today had returned with seven. A lot had changed- the room seemed shrunk, my waistline was wider, and Baba had gotten increasingly sour.
“Yes, it has. You were not there so we cut the room up like a sheet cake and distributed it to the neighbours. I should have asked you to clean and mop it when Shardamma was on leave during COVID. Then you would have realized how palatial it is.” Sarcasm came to baba as natural as breathing or sleeping. “Clean it up and it will magically enlarge.”
“Alright Baba! Let’s Marie Kondo it.
“What’s that? That video game you played where the small guy knocked out turtles?”
“No baba. That was Mario. Marie Kondo is an organization technique wherein you get rid of everything that doesn’t make you feel happy.
“Then please betaji start with that mini store of a hundred scented candles gathering dust on the north mantlepiece. They haven’t been lit in ten years and are obviously useless. They give me no happiness, and the diabetic sweet scent exacerbates my headache. I say, please Marie Kondo them.
“No baba, Marie Kondo doesn’t work that way. It should give ME happiness since they are mine, So I should be the one deciding what to discard, donate or recycle.”
“But I paid for them. So technically they belong to me, and I say throw them out and see the mantlepiece magically push the north wall further.” Baba refused to understand the definition of Marie Kondo technique.
“You see baba, it is not a technical concept but emotional. If I have emotional connect with the object, as per definition, I keep it.” It is always exhausting to explain Baba something he does not want to understand.
“You cannot possibly have any emotional connect with this eight standard history textbook.” Baba waved a tattered old book in my face. “This textbook has absorbed more drool than any sponge all that time you pretended to study. I doubt anyone will be desperate enough to receive a donated drool covered book. Just discard it and have mercy on people receiving your donations.” Sheepishly I put that and other books suspicious of having any hint of dried saliva atop the discard pile.
“Now this closet- I will shave my head if you fit in any of these clothes since you have expanded like Cinderella’s pumpkin; socks not included.” Baba read my mind before I could sass with the socks counter argument. Looking at his confident demeanor, I further refrained myself from pointing out that he was already bald. I stared at him as he tried to measure the length and breadth of the closet preparing to hit me with another fat shaming comment when it dawned upon me.
“Baba, you are not exactly happy with me moving in, are you? He stopped and stood still like a statue.
“Of course, I am. You are the light of my life.” Sarcasm? Maybe. A lie, definitely.
“Baba, your face and your words don’t match. It’s like watching a Clint Eastwood classic with Jim Carey subtitles.”
Baba sighed and sat cross legged on the floor with a slight wince. I realized then, he had grown old. He patted my hand and spoke with a tremble.
“Do you know, your mother hates Okra? I always loved how she made it but never noticed how much she hated it. Do you know why? Because I was so wrapped up with you sisters and my work, trying to be a good provider that I forgot being a good partner. Your mother and I balanced a brilliant juggling act raising you sisters, but it never occurred to live for ourselves. Now with both of you out of the house, I thought I will try being the good partner I never was, spend more time with your mother- Get rid of the clutter that distracted us so that our world seems larger. That will be ‘Marie kondo’ing it, isn’t it?
“A metaphorical Marie Kondo! I think you now understand the concept Baba. I agree with you, me moving in the house would set you both back to the same rut but I give you my word baba, I would stay out of your way as much as possible, clean up after myself, be a bit more independent so that Ma and you get to Marie Kondo your life. You can travel, go to movies, have an occasional coffee, workout together.”
Baba nodded and smiled. “You know what Betaji, that gives me an idea. I will turn your sister’s room into a home gym. Clear up the space by the north window, I need to put a bed there. Your sister called today. She too is moving in. She says she is ‘between jobs’ … fancy way of informing that she is highly educated but totally unemployable…wants to be something called as ‘influencer’. Whom is she going to influence? A cult? Can we Marie Kondo this trash idea out of her?”
I chuckled and wondered how that super entertaining conversation would go. The room will again feel small but entertainment, larger than life!
