There are clothes on the chair, skydiving from both sides of it. They have been there for a while. Bedsheets, jeans, shirts, the works. Oh, they aren’t mine. They belong to the good people I share my room with. Personally I think, they add a lot of colour to the place. There is a bright orange towel, a grey dolphin, even a huge parrot-green laundry bag. Every time I see my own purple laundry bag, I am reminded of the tasks to be accomplished. No clothes have been washed in about a week; there are several to be laundered. The bed could do with a new pillow-cover. But anyhow, the point is: though there are thirty nine things I need to do about my den, I am beyond them now.
No, I haven’t achieved nirvana.
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 