Fan-Cleaning

Whenever i am at home, my mom reserves a day for cleaning the ceiling fans.

She is short enough to reach anywhere near the fans, and I am tall enough to reach them with a short stool.

So we start.

First we make sure no-one is at home.

Coz otherwise we have to trouble everyone.

Mom gets 2 buckets.

One is filled with soap water. One is filled with plain water.

I climb a stool and reach for the fan in the living room. 

Mom tosses a cloth soaked with the soap water.

And I start cleaning the blades of the fan.

Mom starts yelling that I should do it nicely.

I cheat her by changing the fan blades to the next one while she is dipping the cloth in the water.

I want to get done with this fast.

Mom wants to spend the whole day in this job.

Then we go to the next room.

There is a bed in the room.

So I stand on the stool placed on the bed and reach the fan.

We have placed a cloth over the bed so that dust does not fall.

Suddenly I fall from the stool and onto the bed.

Mom is scared and panicks.

I laugh saying that the bed is soft and she need not worry.

I enjoy the few minutes of rest I can get on the bed as an excuse.

Now mom feels guilty and decides she would clean the fans herself, and starts climbing the stool on the bed.

So then I feel guilty and prevent her from doing so.

She argues and decides she can.

I argue and laugh and tell her that I will continue.

And so I climb the stool again and finish the fan for her.

Then we go to the dining hall.

There we have to first cover the table with newspapers to allow easy cleaning.

As my mom starts setting up the newspapers on the table, i start reading those newspapers.

I get lost in some obscure speech made by Manmohan Singh and then some stupid advertisement for body massage.

Mom alerts me that time is running out and I should finish the cleaning fast.

So I place the stool on the table and clean the fan.

I realise there is a cricket match going on on TV.

I try to bend my head and catch the latest score.

Laxman batting, 121 not out.

In that excitement, the cloth drops from my hand and splashes on the bucket.

The bucket spills on the floor, and mom comes running from the other room.

"What happened", she asks.

"Laxman century. Hit a six"

"So? so what happened?"

"So bucket fell"

Now mom is upset.

Poor ladies. How much work they do at home?

And why arent we guys sensitive to their plight?

I clean up the mess on the floor.

Meanwhile Laxman is clean bowled.

Serves me right.

Finally last room.

Mom has prepared everything for this room.

Except that in this room, the fan has some silly design on its blades.

The design distracts me.

So I ask mom what was there for lunch.

She says "not yet made"

"Still not made? Ma???"

"Ok made. But first u clean"

"What have u made"

"Vaangi Baath"

"Ok i am cleaning everything very fast now"