That Green Room - Digbejoy Ghosh

The green room stands silent and dim, like a cocoon without the slime. And the larva, obviously. Its almost always cold. The single window doesn't really provide all the light and warmth one would prefer, but the thin carpet compensates for the cold floor. The low bookshelf stands in one corner housing random tidbits ranging from Wodehouse and Marquez to The Rolling Stone Magazine. An acoustic guitar stands facing the wall, calculatedly placed by the bookshelf between the brown Bean Bag and the cupboard. A blue checkered bed sheet with matching blue pillow case covers the mattress on the floor by the wall. It fits almost perfectly into the little niche between the cupboard and the wall. A foot mat lies outside the bathroom door, a foot and a half away from the edge of the carpet, in order to minimise contact with the bare floor. A pair of slippers lie outside the entrance to the room beside another foot mat.
The walls are bare, their green-ness slightly overwhelming to the uninitiated. The cupboard doors sport a few Post- Its, also green, arranged in a neat column. Written down in a careful manner, they list a number of assignments and ideas for future projects. A low table stands near the cane shelf, a portable computer lying open on its Sun-Mica surface. The only sign of chaos is a bunch of wires behind the shelf. They run from the power strip above to the printer-scanner and the speaker system kept underneath. The foot mat outside the bathroom door attempts to cover another power cable that runs from the switchboard to the bookshelf in the corner.
The first thing he sees when he walks in are the strands of hair in the opposite corner. They lie in repose on the carpet between the Bean Bag and the cupboards, as if to mock his high sense of sanitation and hygiene. Brows furrowed, he puts his slippers back on and heads outside to fetch the broom lying in the corner between the refrigerator and the kitchen wall.