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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
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...
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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