Sparkler Snapshots

III | Much Ado About Mopping

"I am Tamil, I am Sinhalese, I am Muslim and Burgher. I am a Buddhist, a Hindu, a follower of Islam and Christianity. But above all, today and always, I will be proudly Sri Lankan." – Kumar Sangakkara

Date: April 14th, 2017

Occasion:
The Sinhala and Tamil New Year
Varusha Pirappu
Avurudu
Vishu

Country: Sri Lanka

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III | Much Ado About Mopping

You never truly admire the art of staring at a mop for hours on end, until you have to do something productive with said mop.

I forcefully bit down on my cheek as my toe, which happened to meet the quick edge of a mahogany table at that exact moment, managed to stub itself. I hissed a curse under my breath at the immediate pain, hopping around as though movement would alleviate my toe's resemblance to a fuchsia pufferfish. Minus the spikes, thankfully.

However, doing that was as useless as Hawkeye was in the first Avengers film. Not a great comparison, I know, considering how much he redeemed himself in the sequel. But as a sharp flare of pain shot through my foot with the speed of a bullet, thinking through the burn became a feat too difficult.

As I gave up on the whole ridiculous hopping activity and flopped down onto a pristine cream sofa, my brother made his appearance out of nowhere, as though he'd suddenly apparated into existence. His sudden approach made me flinch violently at first sight, before I sank back into the silvery cushions once registering the fact he was thankfully not my father.

The stern look on my father's face this not-so-cheery morning had been enough to spur our motivation to clean, clean, clean! until now. A time lapse of sixty minutes had flown by in the shape of numerous dustpans and roaring vacuums. I was sure that the next time I coughed, I would be expelling a thick cloud of dust in place of carbon dioxide.

"You look tired," Ishara, my aforementioned twin brother, commented bluntly.

The vacuum he was dragging was currently exhausting tiny puffs of grey dust, as though it, in conjunction to my own feelings, was not feeling the love for the Sinhala New Year. Oh right, and Tamil's I guess, but I occasionally forgot about them sometimes. What? Yeah, I had a pretty bad memory, but at least I remembered to do my math homework the last time I–

Oh crap, never mind.

Reverting back to the present, I shot an exasperated look at my brother. He'd always had this irritating knack of stating the obvious, much to my utter chagrin, since it was hella annoying 100 percent of the time. 

"Nǣ, bohoma? I thought I'd be bouncing off the walls in happiness," I retorted sardonically. "Cleaning is just too much fun!"

I emphasised the sarcasm with dramatic hand gestures, whacking the vase that wobbled dangerously beside me. Eyes widening, I quickly steadied it before it could plunge to the ground and shatter into a gazillion pieces. I was sure that mom wouldn't be in a spectacular mood if I broke her favorite vase. And you gotta keep those parental figures happy over New Year's, you know?

"All right, all right, no need to be catty," Ishara retorted, one hand raised up in surrender as he tugged the vacuum elsewhere with the other.