A DAY CALLED (SUN)DAY

From my childhood days till date I anxiously await the first day of this week. Aptly named Sunday, it still doesn’t fail to charm me. The only exception over the years the many Sundays of my life have made is the way they have gone from lazy to crazy. Not that I was a lazy bump to remain glued to the bed with my face tuck tightly in a softy lofty pillow. The latest record of continuing to sleep late on a Sunday must have been 11 a.m. with Mom making no effort to wake me up. She must have been thinking that I was tired. But I wasn’t tired but going through the toughest phase of my life. Now that phase having disappeared or on temporary debacle momentarily, I feel that Sundays are eventful.

May 24, 2009 was one such Sunday. It seemed to begin on a candid note but also displayed signals of getting tougher by afternoon. The unparalleled varieties of birds turn by turn kept singing hymns of the approaching Mumbai monsoons. The decibel levels kept rising higher and higher. Not willing to challenge their versatile melodic talents, I woke up. Being a holiday, morning walk or a brisk jog was out of the question. After having accomplished my morning chores, I dropped in at my local hair cutter’s very economical joint. His dancing fingers trimmed the extra bits of my now betraying hairline and also cleansed my face of the stubble that developed over the weekend. Carrying a copy of my favourite Sunday edition of Hindustan Times I headed back home. Having bathed myself and having offered prayers to God, I pierced my teeth in the double egged omelette my mom had kept ready for me. I settled down to do some brisk reading. My interior designer Mr. Demand walked in with that same innocent smile of his. Laughingly we discussed the programme for the next three days. Thereafter I sat on my CD Dawn and drove straight to my best friend’s residence, which is being redone for his arrival this weekend. Citing tension and disagreement with the painter quietly doing his job dissatisfiedly, I whisked my way to the neighbouring town famed for brands of duplicity. Over there I got the tail of my lovely bike rectified. Some junkie seems to have not taken to its beauty kindly and had pressed it hard enough to get damaged! Considering the audacity of approaching monsoons, I put a polythene protector over my existing cloth seat cover. Curious as a kid, I took great interest in listening to the eardrum threatening noises of horns blown out especially for me by the shopkeeper’s shop help guy. From there I again headed back home. A dry throat could have hardly resisted the glimpse of a friendly makeshift sugarcane juice vendor. I had downed one glass when Mr. Demand again showed up asking for a monetary helps of Rs. 4k to buy some more material for my friend’s place. I helped him with the same pleading not to ask for more. After coming back to my home, I had my lunch. Catching up with my all time favourite movie Lagaan was fun multiplied with the delicious meal mom had cooked for me. The moment the end credits of the film rolled on the screen I was back to my friend’s place. The painter was wrapping up for the day. This time he made his voice heard by complaining about the insufficient supply of materials at a place as far as New Zealand from India. My head too rolled in outrage. Abducting the painter on my bike, I arrived at Mr. Demand’s seedy joint. While parking my bike, I saw a half nude man being chased by his half nude seductress on the street in broad daylight. Not letting myself being distracted by the momentary pleasure play, I trained my guns on Mr. Demand’s brother. Quite composed and patiently, he bluffed that all the required materials will be delivered at the venue instantly. For two hours, Mr. Demand seemed to have absconded to some Middle Eastern desert region. On the other hand, I also learnt about the electrical complication at my friend’s new place. It seems the not-so-efficient governmental authorities had axed the main connection to his abode for undue delay caused in making the payment towards the bill raised by them! I found it strange but that is how the world’s largest democracy should be – disciplined and dog styled.

In hot pursuit of Mr. Demand, I was already fuming. The electrical episode further intensified the heat I was feeling within. Finally Mr. Demand made an appearance as I was over with my dinner. Apologetically and at the same time unapologetically he assured, not to be tense and expect an early completion of all the pending chores. I silently realised how a man of his stature managed to triumph over my anger, irritation, frustration and impractical threats. I also had my mini rebellious conversations with my granny who still continues to think of all us grown ups as her responsibility. Tension gripped her mind because the results of an entrance exam held few days back are expected tomorrow and it involves someone close to our hearts.

Finally I started feeling the fatigue of a day spent in chasing, yelling and fading. The only thing that could help me cool was an interview relayed on Star Jalsha. It was phenomenal to see a completely bald Rituparna Ghosh not interview but interrupt Sujoy Ghosh in a tête-à-tête conducted by him. Dressed in a ‘Salwar Kameez’, Ritu wanted to know every thing that Sujoy had one his mind. Finally he let go Sujoy Ghosh by gifting him a book duly autographed by Ritu himself. Before I could swap the channels, I realised how insanely I had slipped into a world of so called Sound Sleepiness.

So that was a day called Sunday which could have never be so thrilling had it not been a sunny holiday on the 24th day of an equally hot month which goes by the name of MAY.

- vociferous