Over the years, your support has made Women’s Web the leading resource for women in India. Now, it is our turn to ask, how can we make this even more useful for you? Please take our short 5 minute questionnaire – your feedback is important to us!
Consulting Ms. Kondo one last time, I asked myself which objects did not spark joy in me. Alas, everything in my house sparked joy: my heaving closet, my tattered books, my chipped teacup.
A few months into lockdown, I decided to do a ‘Marie Kondo’ and reclaim my life. I looked around my home and decided that clothing and books were my major problem. (I didn’t even consider the vast collection of handbags, footwear, and knick-knacks.)
Ms. Kondo suggests going about organizing by category and, as per her instructions, I decided to tackle my closets first. I could almost hear the happy sigh from wardrobe number one. It was liberation time for those stretched hangers which regained their original shape as soon as I removed all the clothes and threw them onto the bed.
Looking at the mountain of clothes, I was aghast. I rifled through the ‘all too small’ wardrobe. How on earth had I managed to fit all those clothes in there? Squaring my shoulders, I sorted the clothing into three neat piles. Into the first pile went the clothes that I fitted into – in another lifetime. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I knew that I would have to wait for my re-birth to fit back into them.
The second pile was for clothes that I had worn to my workplace before work-from-home began, and the third was for brand-new items, some with their tags still attached. I stood there, shamefaced. Those ‘end-of-season sales’ must have been planned for indiscriminate buyers like me.
Sticking to my resolve, I played by Kondo’s rules and began discarding, starting with the first pile. I held each garment up against myself, thanked it sincerely for having served its purpose, and considered whether or not it ‘sparked joy’ within me.
At the end of one hour, the first pile remained as it was, and I was busy reliving my college years, my girls’ days out with friends, and my graduation dress. The memories were rich and strong. Moreover, I had begun to think that my new exercise and diet plan might just work.
Tackling the last pile, I wondered whether I could take any of them back to the store once lockdown was lifted. Examining my reflection as I held them up, I came to the conclusion that I had made some good purchases and patted myself on the back for being an economical buyer.
By the end of the day, the clothes were back where they belonged, except for a measly pair of leggings and a couple of shirts. I broke out in a cold sweat at the idea of attacking the cupboard that held my collection of saris. Buyer’s remorse was for the faint-hearted, I decided, and, settling down to watch a Netflix, promised myself that I would have better luck with books.
I am proud and possessive of my book collection. Any genre is my kind and I like to think I have eclectic taste. Having never been successful at discarding books, I needed all my resolve. After lunch, I started with those books which had crackling pages, yellowed with age. Dusk found me sitting in front of the first shelf leafing through my father’s collection of Reader’s Digest, lost in some forgotten gems. I gave up and treated myself to ice cream.
Consulting Ms. Kondo one last time, I asked myself which objects did not spark joy in me. Alas, everything in my house sparked joy: my heaving closet, my tattered books, my chipped teacup. It seems that I am not yet ready for the world of KonMari.
Published here first.
Image source: Oksana Krasiuk Free for Canva Pro
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views. Individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times. If you have a complementary or differing point of view, sign up and start sharing your views too!
Chandrika R Krishnan, a Bengaluru-based writer and educationist likes all things beginning with a ‘T’ - talking, teaching, tales and tea.
Her 300-odd published articles, poems and stories are eclectic and mostly experiential and read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 might have had a box office collection of 260 crores INR and entertained Indian audiences, but it's full of problematic stereotypes.
Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2 starts with a scene in which the protagonist, Ruhaan (played by Kartik Aaryan) finds an abandoned pink suitcase in a moving cable car and thinks there was a bomb inside it.
Just then, he sees an unknown person (Kiara Advani) wave and gesture at him to convey that the suitcase was theirs. Ruhaan, with the widest possible smile, says, “Bomb mai bag nahi hai, bomb ka bag hai,” (There isn’t a bomb in the bag, the bag belongs to a bomb).
Who even writes such dialogues in 2022?
Anupama, an idealist at heart, believes that passing on the mic to amplify suppressed voices is the best way to show solidarity with the marginalised.
Anupama writes with a clear vision of what she wants to say, and makes sure she explores all possible facets of the topic, be it parenting or work or on books.
An intelligent, extroverted writer with a ton of empathy, she is also one who thinks aloud in her writing. Anupama says that she is largely a self driven person, and her passion to write keeps her motivated.
Among her many achievements Anupama is also a multiple award winning blogger, author, serial entrepreneur, a digital content creator, creative writing mentor, choreographer and mother to a rambunctious 7-year-old who is her life’s inspiration and keeps her on her toes.