For five consecutive days I waited for the maid to turn up and wash the used utensils. On the sixth day I decided to do the thing myself. For one, unaccustomed to the art of cleaning and washing utensils, doing so is a herculean task, especially on a wintry morning with temperature below 8 degree Celsius. But I had no other option. The utensils I mostly use for taking food brought from the hotel had all been already used and soiled. So, more out of domestic necessity than with the zeal to carry out the inspired public appeal made by PM Modi for Swachh Bharat, I set about washing my left-over, dirty utensils (pic 1). I opened the lid of the soap box. There was a scrubber pad inside. I smeared washing powder upon it, made it wet with the ice-cold dripping water from the running tap and began rubbing it on a steel plate. The task was hard at the beginning, but became smooth with every utensil I cleaned. Soon I fell into a rhythm. The tinkling sound of the metal that was creating a cacophony earlier began to produce a soothing, lilting music. Or, so it appeared to my ears. The dirty, rusty steel plates, cups and spoons began to shine and sparkle. My zest increased. A determination began to sprout in me. Why not wash these so clean that a dazzle is produced such as no maid could ever hope to replicate ! And my enthusiasm found wings in action with redoubled energy. When, at last, I put all the utensils under the running tap one after another and arranged them in a heap on the concrete slab (pic 2) I heaved a long sigh of deep satisfaction. I looked at the sparkling heap with contentment and mentally thanked my maid for having created for me the scope to learn the art of cleaning utensils and enjoying doing so.
Posted on: Sat, 06 Dec 2014 04:37:59 +0000
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