Diwali Cleaning and Me!

I manoeuvred the task at hand with extreme care, keenly aware of the uneven ground I was standing on. Drops of sweat steadily trickled down my brows while my unruly hair annoyingly stuck to my forehead. Flecks of dirt had settled on my clothes long back initiating a string of rather loud and scary sneezes. I blamed myself, my family, my life, and even humanity under my breath for what I was going through. Teenager A Jr helplessly watched and tried again, “Mumma, why don’t you let me do it? You’ll take a nasty fall!” Agreeing with him but too proud to admit I carried on with the chore while balancing on a wobbly stool kept on my bed. Pankhe saaf karna is the epitome of Diwali cleaning. How could I delegate it to anyone else?

Whoever invented this custom of Diwali cleaning either had an army of helpers at their disposal or were plain sadist. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for keeping my home neat and festive-ready but what’s with the insane obsession to wash every utensil, piece of cloth, and corner of the house? Are there rules not to indulge in serious scrubbing R & R (rinse and refurbish) unless there are Goddess Lakshmi’s coveted blessings on the other side? Is raining outfits normalised when we open our wardrobes on regular days? As if people coexisted with the cobwebs, dust, and pests in their homes harmoniously until Diwali when suddenly the relationship soured enough to drive them away!    

As a child I watched with amused curiosity when my mother and every Aunty in our vicinity behaved like women possessed around this time. Come Dussehra and battle plans were laid out with sharp precision; which room to hit first, what was the manpower (maids) situation like, will we need to call for additional reinforcements (kids), etc. Drying bedsheets fought for space next to airing mattresses while the line “Oh, I was looking for this!” repeatedly rang around the house. There was no concept of masks back then. Dusting was done with old dupattas tied to cover the nose and face reminiscent of seasoned criminals out on a hit job. Homes were painted every year giving rise to an unsaid competition to upstage each other. Good times, now that I think of it.

Stepping into Mom’s shoes wasn’t and isn’t easy. My nineteenth Diwali as a married woman and it still feels overwhelming. Making matters difficult, I’m consistently battling health issues (nothing serious) and have developed painful skin allergies. Do I brace myself for the discomfort and charge ahead to ensure that tradition is followed or listen to the husband and leave it for later? After all, the fans are done, the kids sort their own stuff, and my kitchen routinely gets spring cleaned. I donated eight bags of clothes and bedsheets the other day downsizing quite a bit. There isn’t much left to do.

The wise Dumbledore famously said, “Help is available to those who ask for it.” but I’m yet to implement it in my life. Thankfully, my family delegates tasks amongst themselves saving me the ordeal. Angel has taken charge of my medicines while the husband and son give me relaxing shoulder and back massages whenever I need them. Diwali is all about family bonding and we’re blessed to be set on that front. Baaki, zarurat padne par Urban Company to hai hi!

This blog post is part of ‘Blogaberry Dazzle’ hosted by Cindy D’Silva and Noor Anand Chawla.

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Varsh

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