The Squashed Orange 🍊

Kiran came back from the shops with bags in both hands . I began unpacking like a dutiful sidekick: bananas, tomatoes, cherries, blackberries… all tucked lovingly into the fridge .

And then… it happened.

I pulled out the bag of clementines and there it was—a squashed orange! Crushed. Flattened. A citrus tragedy.

How? How could Kiran of all people allow this? The man has highest level of OCD when it comes to packing. I’ve literally seen him unpack and repack a shopping bag at the supermarket till because the I dared to put the bread near the milk!

In the past, I used to get seriously irritated with his obsession about "alignment" and "logical sequencing" of vegetables and groceries .It made me feel like I’d accidentally married an Excel spreadsheet. But now, after years of therapy (read: deep breathing, chai , sarcasm, and giving up), I’ve learnt to let him be.

Recently, we were at a friend’s house when the topic of OCD quirks came up. And boy, it was a gold mine! The winner? Dishwasher stacking.

Turns out everyone has their own religious beliefs when it comes to this sacred ritual. Some need exactly two centimeters between spoons—because obviously, spoon suffocation is real. Others channel their inner champion, filling every last gap like the dishwasher is being judged by some examiners!

Tupperware? Oh lord. That’s a whole separate course. You put it on the lower shelf, and five minutes later it's doing backflips during the rinse cycle like it's auditioning for Dishwasher’s Got Talent.

Then we moved on to cupboard organization. I proudly admitted that my side of the bedroom floor is basically a “horizontal wardrobe.” A highly functional concept. Clothes are visible, accessible, and aired out. Revolutionary, really.

Meanwhile, with Kiran everything is on hangers, colour-coded. If his sock drawer had a flag, it would be the United Nations of neatly-rolled hosiery.

But you know what? That’s the beauty of it.

We’re all weird. Wonderfully, gloriously weird.

Some of us stock dishwashers like it's an Olympic event. Some of us treat floors like temporary wardrobes. Some of us mourn squashed clementines.

But all of us—in our own quirky ways—are just trying to bring order to chaos, one spoon, sock, or fruit at a time.

Because real love isn’t spotless. It’s not symmetrical or alphabetized or always on the top shelf.Real love is letting each other be—letting your quirks bump into theirs until they somehow start to fit.

Here's wishing all of you a happy Sunday !!

Maneesha Purandare

1.6.25

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