When I see the seven days of a week, I see them not as days but as seven immature school kids. Kids sitting inside the classroom of life. Every week, I enter as a class teacher into that classroom and deal with all seven individually. My 5 notorious children, Monday to Friday, like to herd near the back benches, create noise and make my presence utterly uncomfortable. While the other two innocent studious kids, Saturday and Sunday, take my notes down peacefully at the front. The fearful five always create nuisance, with Monday leading the pack. In the name of daily routine they try to make my life miserable. When I crave for pin drop silence, they drop bombs. When I try to set them in order, they become innovatively chaotic. My two studious children dislike them. They are obedient, peaceful, sincere and always eager to listen to me. It is in tranquillity of Sat and Sun that I seek solace after losing my sanity on Mon, Tue,Wed,Thu and Fri. They are the only reason that I could face the other five. As a class teacher I need to cater to the demands of all seven. But, I consider it a bigger responsibility to guard two of my peaceful pupil, Sat and Sun, from the bad company of miscreant five.
But that was up to a few years ago. Because, a few years ago, I started losing my hold on Saturday. I ignored signs when on few occasions Sat behaved like one of them, totally chaotic and restive. It was wooed away by the false sincerity of work pressure and fun of the mischievous five. The imaginary urgency to manage my work on each day of a week secretly encroached my much adored Saturday. And somewhere in the middle of journey, due to the hectic nature of work and the din surrounding my life, Saturday fell behind.
So lately, in my life I have started guarding my Sundays. The loss of , what could have been a peaceful Saturday to the heckle and bully of group of weekdays made me overprotective of my Sunday. I started having this impulse to protect my Sundays from outside world. I treasure my personal space on a Sunday and more or less treasure it alone. I wish no one calls me on a Sunday, no one tells me what to do, no one bothers me. At least , for one complete day in a week, I wish I don’t exist the way I exist. A bit similar to this inspiring man below ;).
The only day when I become one with myself is on Sunday. This day defines me and I define the course of this day. I may treat myself a feast or I may famish. I may spend the day reading a book or I may pass it aimlessly observing traffic from my balcony. On Sundays, I plan to be as out of routine as possible. An out of routine lazy schedule gives a sense of ownership over this day to me. The morning is prolonged till afternoon with regular interval of tea. Lunch seldom sees me on time and dinner includes a distasteful dish prepared on my own. I try not to pick any phone calls. If I do, that is only after swearing a mouthful of curse to the caller and gaining the right tone in time to say, “ Hey hi! What a wonderful surprise, Kaisa hai bhai?”. The airplane mode on smartphone comes a little handy while I wander in my city of thoughts. Actually, I keep a secret desire to live a day out from the lyrics of the song, Dil dhoondata hai fir wohi fursat k raat din and that desire comes alive on every Sunday.
Even as a child I waited desperately for Sundays. With no phone calls to attend, no whatsapp forwards, no facebook updates and no urgency of work and little care for future, Sunday brought the cheerful spirit of life at hand. The morning started a little late than normal weekdays. Mummy never needed to scroll through hundred channels on youtube to prepare a delicious meal. She did that beautifully out of her own experience. Television which was restricted to limited hours for kids on weekdays was left all at our whims. Back then, no one told us what to do. Neither had we cared about the next day’s schedule. Evening started a little earlier when we came out to play. Back then, a match of cricket or kabaddi or just an ideal talk with neighbourhood friends brought more pleasure than watching an online viral video. At night the whole family huddled around television to jointly savour any movie bestowed on us by erstwhile Doordarshan. Back then, Sunday meant an actual carefree holiday.
It may sound like being nostalgic or brooding over the past, but Sundays count among many other things that I miss from my childhood. In today’s overburdened busy life keeping myself reserved on Sunday is a way to connect to my past and to myself. These days, we are struggling to keep pace with streaming fast life, mindlessly consuming bombarding information, competing to prove our worth in ever demanding professions and actually disconnecting to connect online in virtual world. We are clueless and trapped in chambers which echoes everyone else's opinion except our own. An intermittent period of deafening silence and luxurious leisure to really know ourselves is all what we need. I want Sunday to be that period of mine.The stay-active-stay-fast schedule has crept over all of us. It has taken away the immense joy in sitting idly. There is no crime in being lazy for a day. In fact ,there is pleasure in staying afloat in our thoughts with no purpose at all. There is real pleasure in a lazy Sunday. Try it for yourself. :)
Thank you for reading