My room is my territory. That’s how it is during holidays. I don’t step out of the threshold of my room other than that to get my dinner/lunch whatever, depending on what time I am up and when I am sleeping it off, or to grab a quick chocolate from the refrigerator. I mean, seriously. If my room had a little fridge placed in one corner, I would never see daylight for as long as my vacations would go, may it be a week, month or two months.
And in my defence, what would I do getting out of my room? Why would I get out for? Why should one leave the cosy area of comfort and haven of laziness to wander around in other parts of the house in the chill of Decembers? Also, there are dangers of you catching the fitness-moth as easily as I catch cold, and I bet, before you know you are up at 6 in the morning, jogging away! So, NEVER take the risk. It can be hazardous to the time you and your room spend together. Everything I need- my cell phone, charger, laptop, headset, face cream, body lotion, lip gloss, eye liner, clutcher- each thing is within an arm’s distance from me. And my table has become a junkyard which I hardly think of cleaning, and for which my Mom finds a pleasurable hobby to pester me every now and then.
The feeling of warmth when you enter your room, the place which marks you, which has an essence of your identity, where you had spent two dozen hours a day of a month holiday that comes twice an year doing nothing is unexplainable. Comfort of knowing the place by instinct, like which area of bed is more comfortable on account of it being next to the wall or next to the bedside table, or close to a switch board which is definitely the most coveted place in any room by any person because the benefits of charging your phone while SMS-ing at 3AM without disturbing any other person in the room is the greatest bliss one can ask for; which patch on the wall was made by you one night when you had rested your oily head back.
When I am tired, I can nowhere feel rest taking over the tiredness so well than when I take a nap on my corner of the bed. You feel most relaxed when you sit on your place, something would keep stirring and itching your nerves if you won’t. It’s a rule. And now it makes me think of a rule book I should make someday, for such rules one crazy teenager like me wouldn’t find anywhere else.
This room has become a kind of receptive friend to all my fears which are kept a secret from the entire world. When I act like I am a famous personality and dream aloud how I am charmingly giving off autographs and smiling my way across photographs, and giving a speech during the publication of my first book, the walls know the speeches by heart.
And this is my article in defence to any person against my not being active enough, or being a lazy bone who doesn’t stir out of the room. I am sure it would remind him of his times when he dwelled in the ease of his own place from dusk to dawn!
And after all that balderdashing, if I still hadn’t lost you, yeah, you are probably right. Any person, who goes to office at 8 AM and returns at 6PM, and then spends around two hours of a day in kitchen, and two in the lobby area reading newspaper and doing stuff like vacuum-cleaning the entire house, which we young people like to see as ‘dirtying-yourself-to-clean-the house, so in short ‘unnecessary’ ’ would spend just about some seven hours of night sleeping in the room, would find the mattress of his bed comfortable and bliss after a hectic day. But the question is, would it feel equal bliss to what I feel when I lay back my head on the soft pillow whose bumps and soft corners I have grown to know by heart and the soft cotton filled inside it smells of my conditioner and the mattress on which my body has made its impression by years of sitting on it with my heavy bum while listening songs, eating buttery paranthas, facebooking, and texting and watching a zillion movies? I doubt! ;)