Pyaar, Pooja, and Pocha” — The Great Indian Chore Myth

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 You know what really cracks me up?

People — usually the sanskaari kind — who say,

“Women should love doing household chores. It’s her duty. It’s her joy. It’s her divine calling.”


Arre bhai, are you okay?

Blink twice if Dettol has entered your bloodstream.


Who on Earth loves chores?

No one wakes up stretching their arms, saying,

“Ah yes, what a beautiful day to scrub the bathroom tiles and spiritually connect with the pocha.”


Please. Even the mop looks tired of life.


Let’s be honest — chores aren’t therapeutic.

They’re traumatic.

You don’t “love” cleaning, you just don’t want your house to look like it was raided by raccoons.


And then they say,

“Women shouldn’t complain. It’s part of life.”

Oh really?

So basically I’m supposed to smile like a detergent ad while I’m elbow-deep in dirty dishes, whispering,

“Waah, kya sukoon milta hai is grease mein.”


I mean, who says stuff like this?

“Oh, kneading dough is so therapeutic.”

Really, Shalini? Then why do you look like you’ve fought with aata and lost?


And now, the real question —

Why only women? Married, unmarried, divorced, single, alien — doesn’t matter.

Apparently, if you have ovaries, you automatically come pre-installed with a vacuum cleaner and a sense of duty.


Because the raja betas?

Oh, they’re too busy.

They’ll spend hours adjusting camera angles for their gaming livestreams but can’t locate the broom that’s literally right in front of them.

They’ll say, “Just tell me what to do,” and then proceed to do everything wrong, like it’s an Olympic sport.


And God forbid you ask them to help — suddenly it’s,

“Bas five minutes, I’m resting.”

Those five minutes last longer than India’s infrastructure projects.


Then there’s the rest of the family —

Everyone moving around like the floor is lava.

You drop a crumb, they leap. You hand them a cloth, they vanish.

Apparently, touching a plate is against their religion.


But you — the woman — must be the multitasking goddess of broom, bucket, and balance.

Work full time? Sure.

Still cook, clean, manage school WhatsApp groups, remember everyone’s birthdays, and somehow look “presentable.”


And if you dare to complain?

“Why are you so negative?”

If you don’t complain?

“See, she handles everything so gracefully.”

If you ask for help?

“Arre bossy mat bano.”

And if you drop dead from exhaustion, everyone’s like,

“She should’ve just asked for help!”


NEWSFLASH: she did.

You were too busy “recharging” your phone and your soul.


Here’s the truth:

Chores aren’t gender roles, they’re human responsibilities.

You live here, you clean here.

Basic hygiene isn’t feminine energy; it’s common sense.


So no, I don’t “love” doing chores.

I love it when everyone does their bit —

when the raja betas pick up a broom without announcing it like a national event,

when the father doesn’t “help” like it’s charity,

when the family treats the house as a shared space, not a service center.


Because contrary to what the world believes,

I wasn’t born with a duster in one hand and detergent in the other.


I’m just a human — not a “ghar ki Lakshmi,”

and definitely not a 24x7 unpaid domestic goddess.


So unless washing dishes comes with a salary and an off day,

please don’t tell me to love it.

Love is blind, not stupid.

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