The maid is on leave; in fact, she has not come in since the time I returned back. For the first two days I gave her the benefit of doubt of not knowing /remembering my return date. Today, I verified from a couple of other places where she works, and learnt that she has indeed been on an extended Holi holiday.
A quick glance at the kitchen sink made my heart sink faster than Titanic. Not that I have many utensils in the first place, but the way they were thrown into the narrow steel basin made the Everest look like Snow White’s entourage! The grease/grime and the sticky, browny look were not encouraging either (though I always take care to soak them in the night)
Last night I had skipped cooking dinner, hoping that she would be here today morning. My optimistic outlook lasted till the evening when I went to verify her whereabouts, sheepishly knocking at unsuspecting people’s places asking about her.
Since her return might take an indefinite time, realization dawned faster than Archimedes could scream eureka that if I had to avoid any further eating out binges, I needed to clean this stuff fast.
With the deepest sigh that would make Romeo proud, I put on a favorite Lata Mangeshkar CD, and started the rub-and-scrub session.
Half-way through the tedious process I concluded that all advertisements were a big farce. Neither the super-cleaning Vim bar nor the powder cleaned away the grease with the effortless stroke shown in such ad-films. Worse, how can the ladies shown in the film beam through the act as if they have won a million-dollar lottery? Or, are these ad-films a case study in masochism? Or, do ladies genuinely get orgasmic pleasure in scouring sullied utensils?
Though the melamine plates were easy, the pressure cooker and the kadhai proved to be tough customers. I swear I could not have created so much foam in the bathroom ever as I did on these two stubborn artifacts to have them reach a semblance of cleanliness. I attacked them viciously and lecherously with a singular shakti till they succumbed to my curse-sting grouch!
The two have never looked more cleanly ever!
I let out a silent prayer that thankfully, just yesterday, I had broken a glass, which meant one item less to clean. Perhaps, I should buy the paper glasses now. As I reached the turn of the humble steel glasses, I realized that there were only two of them left. Now, I am sure that I had brought a full set of six glasses. With hands covered in vim and foam, I looked over the house to find the rest they were scattered all over the place; one, outside in a corner at the porch; another, below the bed, which proved to be a blessing in disguise because from there I also unearthed a lost pair of socks; the balance were on various window-sills. Relieved that all six of them had not deserted me, I went about my mission.
After a grueling three-quarters-of-an-hour, I had the kitchen sink cleaned up; since, in the background, Lataji was urging kisise darrna nahin, darr darr ke jeena nahin I decided to follow her advise, and not be scared or cowered down by the mess all over. Thus, I spent the next half hour tidying up the entire kitchen cleaning the shelf and the gas, placing things where they are meant to be, removing empty ketchup and water bottles and mopping off all the extraneous dirt.
As I stepped back to admire my own hardwork, I noticed that the sun had set. At the same time, it dawned on me that after putting in so much trouble I was in no mood to cook and soil and spoil my efforts. Hence, it will be a dinner out today also, I told myself resolutely.
Thus, the entire chakra that started off with my unwillingness to go out, ended up being the reason for my actually stepping out into the balmy Kathmandu evening and rushing to my favorite fast-food joint. Touche.