The sun was pouring in through the window. Pavan reached for cigarette and lit another one. Sitting on his bed, he was scrutinising his room. It actually looked nice now. He had spent the whole cleaning, scrubbing and polishing his room. “Machan, not bad da. Your room actually looks clean!” That was his room mate who came to sponge off a cigarette.
Pavan just gave his room mate his trademark smile. He got the hint and left. The smoke helped him think. He mentally ran over the details of everything he had done that day. He had turned out his cupboard completely. There were old post cards, greeting cards, hair band of the girl he had a crush on when he was in the 8th standard, a piece of chalk piece his favorite teacher once threw at him, the butt of the first cigarette he’d smoked, notes passed around in college, the piece of paper on which he took down his girlfriend’s number, the restaurant bill from their first date, the list was bloody long.
He felt like a ‘girl’ sorting through his stuff. Some of the things found its way to the trash and some others went back into the cupboard. In all, he felt good about his move to organize and clean his room. It was thearpeutic.
He looked at his watch. It was time to go out. He got up and went out, came back and took one last look. It felt good to grow up.