MY PASSION WITH IRONING

Taking advantage of the Black Friday shopping bargains at Walmart, we bought a long overdue ironing board. Till now, we were using a spare computer table with a spread of thick cotton sheets for some cushioning on its top. With adjustable height, the new ironing board has all that buffer plus the parking space to hold the press.

I love ironing with a meditative passion. Since my early teen years, I mastered the pressing job shoulder to shoulder, top to bottom, inside, outside for every kind of wear.

My love affair with the hot press, later along with newspaper and media, started with a coal-heated iron. It was quite heavy for me at my tender age, with the results I often got burns on one hand or the other.

We did not have an ironing board at that time. To my knowledge, the specialty item was not available either. It was when I came to Canada that I discovered this household essential.

The ironing chore was always on the floor. The makeshift operating space got layers of cotton blanket on the floor. And sitting on my knees, the ironing activity was indeed a workout as well.

Much later, a big rectangular wooden table became part of our sparse furniture family. The table had a multi-purpose use, from changing light bulbs to putting dishes, etc., and of course for ironing.

The significant evolution came when we bought our first electric press—no more fuss of burning coal and always with the same and steady hotness. The electric gadget was a much simpler operation without hot, warm, or mild settings or releasing jets of water or steam. We used to sprinkle water to soften the cloth, especially those with heavy starch coating. Wrinkle-free ironing was the sign of a job well done.

Life is full of wrinkles; ironing them out is an art and on-going operation.

-Promod Puri