Making the bed – The Hindu

“If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride and it will encourage you to do another task and another and another. By the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed. Making your bed will also reinforce the fact that little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you will never do the big things right. If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.”

This is an extract from one of the most famous commencement speeches ever given, for the graduating class at the University of Texas in Austin, by retired Admiral William H. McRaven on May 17, 2014. He has shared wisdom from his experiences of 37 years spent in the Navy, in a book titled Make Your Bed.

In 1965, as a five-year-old in a boarding school, far away from this motivational and inspirational speech and even farther away from where my parents lived, I learnt how to make my own bed. My sister and I were both sent to a boarding school when each of us was five years of age. The years of strict discipline that boarding school entailed, moulded us into what we are today. And it all started with a simple, mundane ritual of making one’s bed.

Once a month, there was an inspection of the dormitory where we resided and the one whose bed was perfectly made was given a small token of appreciation. Every morning, I worked at perfecting the art of doing up the bed as was demonstrated to us by the warden. My little fingers could barely hold the ends of the thick quilt and blanket as I tried arranging them on my bed. The bed sheet was pulled tightly on both ends before being tucked neatly into the sides of the mattress. Finally, the counterpane (called “bed cover“ today) was given one tight tuck-in after it was placed gently on the bedsheet with equal lengths on all sides. I would stand at the foot side of my bed and look at my handiwork with the most critical eye that a five year old could ever possess at that age. There is no doubt then that I was more often than not adjudged the best bed-maker in the dormitory, collecting little tokens of appreciation almost every month. Even today, six decades later, that quizzical expression graces my countenance automatically as I run that very same critical eye over the bed one final time before I pat myself for a perfectly made bed.

Boarding school over, everyone at home realised that my bed-making skills outdid those of my siblings and therefore assigned me as the official bed-maker of the house. I took great pride especially when my father praised me in front of my siblings, too naive to understand that they deliberately made a messy job of this early morning ritual. I had no complaints. I joyfully did whatever was assigned to me.

In the years to come I realised how very important this simple mundane ritual was in shaping my personality. I have never ever dreamt of changing the world but I surely have looked at the little things in life and made sure I did them right. And finally, I have looked inwards with the same critical eye that has run over my hard work every day since the age of five, and have diligently worked to transform myself.

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