Malavika’s Mumbaistan: Marie Kondo in Mumbai

‘You read my mind

‘You read my mind. I too am getting terribly weighed down and frazzled with all the s*** I stash haphazardly around. In fact, today I’ve promised myself I will finally search for storage boxes from some online retailer, to see if I can get rid of all the junk at home. Meanwhile, my husband organises things so brilliantly that he forgets where he has kept his organised stuff. Thank God that at least I scrabbling around in a large dusty filing cabinet filled with half a century’s worth of rubbish -including outdated prescriptions and obsolete land deeds-can manage to find proof of our residence when it’s required’ a friend had texted me this week.

“Everyone knew what Kondo was talking about. Unsurprisingly, because they led such complicated, cluttered, and cramped lives, legions of Mumbaikers had warmed to her message.” (HT)

She was responding to a not-uncommon cryptic text from me, part of an ongoing non-verbal conversation often resorted to as a wailing wall on ‘Life in Mumbai’: ‘Halp!! I’m drowning in too much stuff .’ I’d written ‘Where’s Mary Kondo now that we need her more than ever?!’

It’s a conversation I‘ve found myself having all too frequently these days, with various friends in Mumbai: the urgent need to organise, declutter, simplify and streamline our homes and lives. The stress of possessing too much might sound like a First World problem but in fact, it’s quite the opposite. Poor design, little thought given to ergonomics, logistics and infrastructure and the crush for urban living space, have made it a universal dilemma, especially among the middle classes in big cities like Mumbai.

After all, the decades following India’s economic liberalisation had been witness to unprecedented consumerism in these parts. From people who had adhered to a Gandhian aloofness to material things, the sudden availability of consumer goods had resulted in homes that resembled warehouses, inhabited by people who not only had no clue what to do with the things they now found themselves surrounded with, but had no idea where or how to store them.

The pandemic had only exacerbated the problem, forcing a whole swathe of people sitting at home to wonder how and why they had accumulated so much stuff that they really could have done without.

Like clothes, (that didn’t fit), crockery, ( that was never used), cartons, (filled with the oddest of things), crayons, (that were broken) calipers (that were dented) candles, (that were burnt out) creams, (way past their sell-by date) cameras, (out of commission) cowboy hats (oh, never mind)…

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‘ Not only was I surrounded by all these piles of useless things, throughout lockdown –but I had to dust the damn things …’ a friend had said, echoing a widely held grouse. Marie Kondo, the Japanese minimalist decluttering guru, and author hadn’t helped either. Ever since she’d burst on the scene around 2011, urging her legions of fans and followers to throw out all that they had accumulated that didn’t ‘spark joy’, the world began to fill with people deeply dissatisfied with the number of useless things they were surrounded by in their homes and lives.

That frayed lampshade which you thought you’d one day have mended? Check. Those shirts that you were hoping to fit into after your nth attempt at dieting? Check. That pink and ochre tea set from a beloved aunt you would never bring out ever? Check. Every single birthday card that you’d received, along with the ribbons and wrappings of the gifts they accompanied? Check. Your entire collection of CDs and photo albums, awaiting the day you’d finally get round to digitising them? Check. Everyone knew what Kondo was talking about. Unsurprisingly, because they led such complicated, cluttered, and cramped lives, legions of Mumbaikers had warmed to her message.

People discussed her nifty folding techniques for Tee shirts; swopped information about the best places where one could donate things, or recounted the peerless joy of clearing out a shelf of house linen as if they were forbidden pleasures. The mantra was that anything that didn’t spark joy had to be banished from their lives

Of course, there were jokes about it too. “So far I have thrown all the vegetables, my bra, the electric bill, the scales, a mirror, and my treadmill.” as one of the memes on the Kondo cult went. Then, along came the pandemic, which had further underlined the need to declutter and divest.

After all, the pandemic had added layers of new stresses to the old ones people had been struggling with, to begin with. (‘These days even my earlobes are multi-tasking.’ as a charming Mumbaiker was overheard lamenting, at a tony Mumbai club ‘They’re currently holding up my mask, my earrings, and my spectacles at the same time’)

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Indeed, ‘Simplify. Streamline. De-clutter ‘ appeared to have become the need of the hour. “Our everyday lives are complicated enough with silly things without having the extra weight of being surrounded by mountains of useless stuff,” yet another friend grumbled when a few of us had met for a hasty coffee, last week. As you will surmise none in the group were millennials. “All those hundreds of passwords to remember, along with (don’t laugh) the sensitivities and political leanings of the people on my various WhatsApp groups- especially my building society one; the configurations on all my remotes –in particular, the one for the new super-smart AC which I swear requires a science degree to understand,” she continued, almost in tears, “not to forget the dietary requirements of all the vegans, gluten-sensitive and Keto practitioners in my immediate and extended family- and oh yes whether I am logged onto to Zomato or Piggy,” she added.

Swiggy, not Piggy, I corrected.

My friend glared at me.

“I guess we all need a Marie Con or whatever she is called to simplify things” someone from the group had quickly chimed in, to diffuse the tension. “Maybe we can form a support group amongst ourselves and just share about what and how we manage to get rid of stuff,” she said.

“Or maybe we can just get a large white gunny sack and begin to throw in all the stuff that brings us no joy.” another friend had piped in. “But remember guys, we must be careful not to throw in family members, partners, spouses etc. Otherwise, our wish to live in bare, sparse, uncluttered cells might just come true…”

Hmmmmm…