Cleanliness isn’t always godliness

I was introduced into the world of mobiles when I turned 80. I stepped in gingerly, my finger poised. Suddenly, I found that a whole new world had opened up for me! Propped up in bed, I feverishly pecked away, my son warning me, “Ma, you don’t have to peck at it. It needs only a gentle touch.”

I was overjoyed when I found that with one flip, I could enter the private world of all of my childhood heroes — Gregory Peck, Clark Gable and many others.

But one day, disaster struck! My granddaughter picked up my mobile and screamed, “Thathi, why is your mobile so greasy?” Yes, it was. On that day, when everyone had gone about their business, I gave my mobile a good wash with shampoo and held it under the tap. Then, I wiped it with a clean cloth. I sat down comfortably on my bed and pecked away. Sadly, it did not respond. That evening, my son took it to the service centre. He brought it back saying, “Ma, he says that there is water in it.”

“No!” I denied, “There is no chance of it!” Later, sheepishly, I told him the truth. The whole family started at me aghast. “WHAT! You washed your mobile? Under the tap?” They all burst out laughing.

Word spread rapidly. My nephew rang up asking if I needed a scotch brite. My brother kindly enquired if I needed a washing stone so I could scrub it. My sister-in-law suggested that I place it in the microwave oven to dry. Meanwhile, my son added dryly, “Thank God you didn’t put it in the washing machine!”. All this because I wanted to clean my mobile!

It reminded me of my mother-in-law, a stickler for cleanliness. She would have only crisp white bedsheets (no flowered ones, thank you) washed and blued every other day. She insisted on washing all greens in potassium permanganate water. Cauliflower was taboo (there were germs lurking right inside the flowerlets, invisible to the human eye). But what really rattled her, was when she took all the toothbrushes in the household, dropped them head down in a mug of water, and left it on the charcoal oven after a day’s work. Imagine her surprise, on returning to the kitchen later, that all the brushes had taken weird shapes. Not daring to contradict her actions, we all stood silently as she dumped the brushes in the dustbin and issued new ones to all of us. This, without a single sign of regret.

Later, my niece, to whom I had narrated this incident, used this idea for a college project. The college had an exhibition of arts, for which she and her friend bought many brushes, melted them, made different shapes, and named them. One in fact, she said, was the best. They cut the head off the toothbrush, and titled it ‘For the toothless’. Her stall drew quite a large crowd, she claimed!

My sister-in-law, who took after her mother, carried this craze for cleanliness a bit further. She always requested her husband to get crisp new notes from the bank, as she was reluctant to handle ‘dirty money’. Once, when she came visiting my place, my maid noticed her habits and whispered, “Does she wash sugar and salt as well?” So much for cleanliness.