The Unclutter Room

Dedicated to Sharmistha Kar. I learnt the right use of bathroom from you sister. Miss you. Will be with you soon. Miss New York.

Is there a particular space in your home that is clandestine? Not that it is physically hidden; it is the relation you share with those four walls and a ceiling that is undercover.

I have one such stealth area. I call it my “Unclutter Room”. No, it is not the storing space or my tiny library-sorts replica. It is, in fact, my bathroom. The toilet seat is the coveted “hot seat”,, whether I attend a nature’s call or just indulge in self muttering. 

Yes, as I adorn that porcelain perch, more often than not I run a mental PPT of my present, past and in all likelihood my tomorrow. Well, it is your tomorrow too, but that’s another story for another day. Images from the past appear cloud-free and crystal clear while those from the present are like “breaking news”. They bombard me with queries to which I seldom have an answer. When I do, I grin or let out a clownish giggle. Am I crazy or constipated, you may wonder, given the amount of time this whole exercise consumes? Like I specified at the very onset, you could find me there even when it’s not a biological necessity. 

Today when my present yet again appeared like a maze of twisted alleys, I sat there wondering why do I do what I do in there? Well, to say the least I like uncluttering my head. Have you ever felt that your brain spins at this insane speed and churns out thoughts, images, possibilities and fears that may not be a part of your reality? I suffer from this intense mobilization of my grey cells that are relentless and very often excruciating. No, I do not intend to proclaim myself as a genius, just saying I have an overactive and over reactive brain. Hence the daily spring-cleaning is crucial for my façade of sanity.

In the mind-boggling times we live, we are often thrown off guard by people, places and procrastination (well, I indulge a lot in the third). And when I am there in my secret hideout, I rejoice in being me. I bare myself to the depths of my emotions and idiosyncrasies. I laugh, cry, curse and mimic at my heart’s content. 

So what if your roommate is careless at time at drives you nuts by leaving her wet towel on the floor? Worry not. You have the magic room. Just lock yourself in there and do a disco number. You can also contort your facial muscles to some hilarious results. Did I hear you complain that your husband is a stickler for perfection? You know where you need to detoxify yourself. In you personal unclutter room. Hiss, snarl and let out a few curse words (harmless in all manner and intent). You would emerge calmer and with a softer heart to forgive your finicky hubby darling.

The list of “2-minute” miracles are abundant and proven, believe you me. I have often slouched on the seat, defeated by the day’s trials and my dear room has never let me down. 

So my lovely darlings and dudes identify your own “special room” and go celebrate your blemishes and insecurities. Just don’t marry them. Clear your thoughts, give your mane a toss and blow yourself a kiss. Or roll your eyes, if that pleases you. These are times of stress and this is the least you can do to nurture your peace of mind and focus on what you aspire.

As I wind up, would you care for a secret? Spiritual liberation is just one of the few surprises you may experience in your “Room”.