Skip to main content

The Perfect Sunday

Don't we all love our weekends? Sure, God may have ordained Sunday to be the day for rest, but trust us to include our Saturdays in it too, with all our parties and night outs...so much so that we ended up coining TGIF ( Thank God Its Friday for the uninitiated) as a welcome note to these two days of bliss.

Sunday mornings are undoubtedly my favourite. I am not particularly given to Monday morning blues, simply because in my line of work, it sometimes becomes difficult to differentiate one day of the week from the other. But a Sunday is a Sunday, and having the luxury to spend it not working is always a welcome idea.

Today, as I woke up to a brilliant sunny Sunday morning, I realised I had the day to myself...to spend it just the way I choose, to plan the perfect Sunday. At the same time, I couldn't help think of the many versions of a "Perfect" Sunday that I have lived through the years.

As a child, Sunday simply meant the Matinee Show at the nearby single screen movie theatre, followed by Maa's "special" Sunday lunch ; which would always be a secret till the lids were taken off the dishes with a flourish on the table. While in High School, Sundays meant having double tuitions followed by hanging out with friends till late evening. Small wonder,then, that we did the former just so we get to do the latter. Moving on, a couple of girlfriends in college swore Sundays are meant for pampering yourself, and dragged me to the parlour myself to "pamper" myself. All I knew after a few hours was how the lady in the chair next to me had facial hair issues, and that my wallet was considerably lighter...not exactly my idea of getting pampered, frankly. Once I started working, I grew to appreciate the time Sundays gave me, and I spent them sorting out my room, cleaning cobwebs and the like.

So, how do I plan the Perfect Sunday now? Picnic season is already over and a Sunday Brunch sounds tempting, but I don't feel like taking the trouble to dress up and go out. I was put out of my dilemma by my mother's question, "What do you want to have for lunch? Its Sunday,you know," she said,simply.

I gave her a huge smile and told her to forget it, because I decided I'll cook the Sunday special lunch for her today. I told her its been ages since she had some time off for herself, and didn't she tell me she wanted to visit the parlour?

So off she went, and here I am...sitting out in the sunshine in our garden surrounded by flowers. The beauty of spring is everywhere, and I can't help feeling relaxed. I just finished reading another one of Sadat Hassan Manto's stories, the beauty of his words still echoing in my head.Lunch is all set and I'm just waiting for my Mom to get back any moment now. What's for lunch, you ask? But that's meant to be a surprise...It's a Sunday, after all!!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Sisterhood of Medicine

"Sister, when will the Doctor be here?", asked a middle aged man. I turned from my examination table, where I was examining a six year old boy, and replied, " I am the doctor, how can I help you?". The man looked at me doubtfully - I was in a salwar kameez with my stethoscope around my neck - and repeated - " No but Sister, I need my child to be seen by a Doctor  Sir".   This is only one of the many incidents that I- as well as most of my young female colleagues at work- go through on a daily basis. Young female doctors get mistaken for nurses all the time, although the nursing staff always has a specific uniform. The young male doctors, however, do not encounter any such confusion. I have no idea whether I can label this as casual sexism or pure ignorance, but people across social and economic spectrums tend to address female doctors as "Sister" as opposed to "Madam". The men, however, get to be "Sir" throughout.  S...
14 comments
Read more

Being Human.

No. I am not Salman Khan. And this is not about a footpath and the " driverless" car that ran over it. It is, though, about being simply human, despite the world expecting you to be otherwise. A white coat and a stethoscope does not make me a Saint, and definitely not Satan. I remain, at my core, a person, trying to figure out life just like a million others out there. Does my job get to me? On some days, yes it does. When I haven't been home for the better part of the year, when I see people of my age discover new experiences, when my friends and family get married or have kids and I can't make it and all I do is spend hours among the sick and miserable, its hard not to get demotivated. Infact, its impossible not to. But I am not even allowed to voice this, since I am told I apparently signed up "to serve humanity." While that particular claim still remains debatable, let me tell you what I DID sign up for. I signed up for the adrenaline rush I get whe...
2 comments
Read more

The Reluctant “Warriors”

Ever since Covid-19 broke out and disrupted our lives as we knew it, there has been an outpouring of gratitude for healthcare workers all over the world. It has been no different in India. From banging vessels to showering flowers, we have been at the receiving end of it all. One would think that would make us feel nice that our efforts are (finally) acknowledged. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.  It’s not about working without adequate protective gear. Many of us realise that PPE is a genuine logistical nightmare for even some of the first world countries , and to get PPEs for all doctors in a country with a doctor patient ratio as screwed up as ours was never going to be a cakewalk. It also isn’t about doctors or nurses being thrown out of their homes by landlords, nor is it about stones and abuses being hurled at healthcare workers responsible for community screening. Simply because doctors in India have always been so demonised, so deeply mistrusted, so taken for granted that a...
4 comments
Read more