Sunday

God rested on the last day after he had worked hard to create the world in six days, so says the holy scriptures of some religions. Surely that’s the way it should be for anybody; relaxation and rejuvenation after six days of work.
I was born on a Sunday too, at 5:05am in the morning. I’m sure that was one Sunday my mother would’ve relaxed through the day after some months of carrying me around. When I was a kid, I wanted to have my Sunday to myself. I’d wake up in the morning with hot breakfast waiting for me in front of the TV just before a series of my favorite cartoon serials would start. I didn’t like being taken to Church though, especially Easter, always being a Sunday and a very hot one. Food, TV and rest were always the Sunday’s forte. As a lonely teenager, Sunday was a time to connect with my paraphernalia; I’d spend hours listening to my favorite music, gawking at interior décor magazines and fantasizing of a dream house that would reflect my essence in some way. Of course I never realized that all the things I wanted to do required money and only later did I realize that “money was so expensive.” Growing up made me realize that a Sunday spent cleaning up the room was Sunday spent better than building castles in the air; there’d be time for it, we’ll see then.
However, as I grew up, life started to take its toll on my Sunday and it hardly remained what it was meant to be. Many years spent either in preparing for professional exams, the unending series of exams that promised to secure my life once and for all, and the increasing discomfort of whether this was the life I actually wanted, ruined many Sundays of my life. I wrote many an entrance test on Sundays and such Sundays were anything but fun.
God knows how I ended up being where I am now but this work too stole my Sundays from me. This was so till I my girl came along and we started to spend the Sundays together either roaming around places in the city or going for long rides. This went on till one Sunday I realized that I’d had enough and my Sunday wasn’t mine anymore. This in turn had a domino effect which ended up in me ending up single again.
Here I sit at my computer punching keys to tell the world that I’ve reclaimed my Sunday, at whatever cost. Today I woke up late, watched a few episodes of Wind In The Willows, ate breakfast while watching another episode of Sherlock Holmes and then slept off again. I woke up two hours after the alarm set by me and headed straight for another meal in front of the TV. I could’ve saved a day if I worked today but why should I save a day to sacrifice my Sunday. I believe I’ll be happier and more productive man on Monday if I enjoy my Sunday.
Who knows what course life will take and what the years (howsoever many there may be) will bring. Maybe many Sundays might be spent working, if there’s no option that is, or worrying, God forbid but who knows the future. I’ll probably even get married on a Sunday and surely I’d want a relaxed, cool, non-crazy ceremony for the same. I’ll probably spend some Sundays doing crazy stuff, long rides, playing with my kids or even grand-kids but whatever I do, I’d surely want my Sundays to be fun-days.