Brush-Up

Revathy turned the various knobs to arrive at the exact warmth of the water she desired. It took her a good two minutes to decide if too hot would be bad for her too good hair. Finally, she began to shower, which released a stream of smoke along with the water. Gradually, the smoke touched all the glassy elements of the bathroom. Good hotels always made her happy. The bathrooms would be spic, span and loaded. Invisibly, someone else would clean the deliberate mess after her. She began to hum "Feed me Diamonds" and was transported to a cloudy land of flowers which had jewels for petals -- bright red, dazzling green, light transmitting blue. 

For a second, she was reclined on one of the clouds, soaking in the luxury of the flowers till she felt the wet weight of her feet pull her downwards. She was falling, flying, but falling. And it was an easy fall. Like in a computer game, she landed from cloud to cloud, destiny saving her from those on fire. Hurriedly, she came out of the shower cubicle in her bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bathtub. An array of disrupted visuals grabbed her. What if the shower started emitting electric rain? What if I was not this me but someone who lived on the clouds and then who am I, on the bathtub? Her heart was pounding loud, feet cold. She looked into the mirror and saw the face she was most familiar with. It did not comfort her.

Her gaze then shifted to the neatly arranged kits by the wash-basin -- a dental-kit, a shaving-kit, a nail-clipping one, a pyramid of tiny tubes containing body lotion, shampoo and conditioner nestled next to the face towel, over which a slim box contained a shell comb. Let me brush my teeth, things will be fine. She commanded herself towards the mirror and emptied the kits. The most basic of things, a transparent toothbrush, a mini toothpaste, a tongue cleaner -- instruments asking for negligible attention brought her back to senses. This was the second time she had brushed since morning. She next plugged in the hair dryer and pulled the switch.

Once again, she was in that warmth, jewelled flowers on clouded lands, fragrant carpets around sand castles and she was flying. This time, her hands pulled her down. Their wet weight. What if the dryer let out electric bullets? Immediately, she pushed it away and struggled to reach for the body lotion. A good dab into her palms and she was regretting the pamper. Her hands were trembling. She took a good look at the mirror. This is not happening to you. It is someone else you have become to whom all this is happening. She just lives inside you. 

Revathy turned her back to the mirror, ready to run out of the bathroom. All she saw was a glaring light above her head, piercing her back to her senses. As she climbed down the psychiatrist's reclined chair, trying to smile, she could not stop herself from hearing that known, nagging voice. You did not brush your teeth today.