Another day, another Sunday; but also the 363rd
day of 2013! Two more days shall collide between each other and the year shall
end. No matter how hard December 30 will try its luck to overshadow December 29
and make an attempt at diluting the impact of December 31; like every year the
last day, the 365th day shall stand the undisputed winner. After
three days, another Sunday will arrive. But till then, it somehow seems
important to write in honor of the last Sunday of 2013.
In 2013 there were 51 Sundays (I hope my mathematics to have
matured through all those trying years). Most of these Sundays have been more
of a routine. I’ve followed the routine of waking up almost on time, freshening
up, offering prayers to Almighty, getting the newspapers, eating my breakfast, drinking
my coffee/tea, household chores, other chores and a lot many etc’s. At the same
time there were some Sundays when I betrayed the routine or the routine itself
got betrayed automatically. There were Sundays when I followed my heart. There
were Sundays when I pursued my passion (of reading, writing, driving and
photographing). Out of the 51 Sundays, I can count very few Sundays on my
fingertips that I did something that my real self might have prompted me to do.
I am in possession of fresh calendars. But I haven’t counted
the Sundays that I will be celebrating or detesting in 2014. In my lifetime, I
don’t remember having hated Sundays. Except for those Sundays, when I might
have received a bad news. Except for those Sundays, when I fought with a loved
one. Except for those Sundays, when I was left feeling lonely, ignored and
defeated. But on this last Sunday, I am thinking of reimagining the definition
of upcoming Sundays. Today I might be at the liberty of enjoying long weekends
that is an amalgamation of a nonworking Saturday and an obvious holiday on Sunday.
But going ahead that might change. I might have to go to office on Saturdays or
slog till the early hours of Sunday. I am unaware what future does my Sundays
hold in 2014 or the years to follow.
One corner of my heart says, “Leave the routine you follow
on Sundays”. A much unvisited corner of my heart says, “The world over, many
follow a Sunday routine, why are you trying to run away?” Who is running away?
I, me, myself! Am I really running away or am I trying my level best to come
back home to a different Sunday? I hate this situation to be caught in juxtaposition.
Yet I still am being in some position at the least. So whatever I made of all
the 51 Sundays of 2013 or the many other Sundays ever since I grew aware of one
such day in a week, I have been less active or not proactive at all. It was
just on 362nd day that was the last Saturday of this year, I
realized the game is about to get over. The dates might remain the same. But
the days, the years, the moments and the experiences will change.
I must confess I did a lot less than what I could have done
to the Sundays of 2013. I could have gone on longer drives, better events,
written more, photographed unstoppably, read untiringly, shopped relentlessly, conversed
endlessly and so much more. But I was in no mood to make the Sundays of 2013
stand out. I didn’t visit a museum. I didn’t make my way to any of the art
galleries. I didn’t give the time, my loved ones expected of me on Sundays. I
was absolutely unromantic when Sundays were full of warmth. I switched my gears
in between being rude and being selfish. But not for once did I think of
growing generous on a Sunday. Almost on every Sunday of 2013, I cocooned myself
from the changes that were occurring in the world and changes that were
occuring within the family too. Maybe that is one of the reasons; I was left hell
shocked when a third generation representative insulted someone from the second
generation of my own family. Maybe that is one of the reasons; I decided then
and there for no Sunday to be wasted in doing nothing. But have I seriously
done something great on any of the Sundays in 2013? Sounding like a lecturer or
an orator on the 363rd day or the last Sunday of 2013, might just
seem impressive. But it fails to build a really unforgettable impression. It
miserably misleads the motive that I’ve been living with for every Sunday of my
life.
It is only on Sundays that writers, poets, philosophers,
photographers, storytellers and many other souls from the creative walks of
life; gather beneath a tree or maybe meet up at lovely places to talk about the
many creative things of life. But I rejoiced feeling marooned on all Sundays of
2013. Many friends met, disguised their inner hatred with the mask of reunion
parties and celebrated fake achievements on Sundays. But I remained away from
all the high decibel fun (fake fun). I am responsible for having turned many
Sundays into sheer waste. I accept the blame to have strangulated the fun in
many Sundays.
On this last Sunday of 2013, I might do nothing but read the
papers, do the usual household chores, grab a nap in the afternoon, drive the car
in the evening, watch and laugh at Kapil Sharma’s jokes in the night and my
relationship with yet another Sunday shall come to an end. Once again a Monday
would arrive (this time it will be the last Monday of 2013 and 364th
day of the fading year). On Monday, I am usually found fuming over unnecessary
issues. On Mondays, if someone is lucky; they will find me cursing the bygone
Sunday to be too short. But Sundays are never short. They are normal. If I don’t
make good use of a Sunday, how can I hold the following Monday responsible for
having killed the fun unnecessarily?
I think I have a rigid personality or my mind might have
been assembled in a different manner. On this last Sunday of 2013, I am feeling
a lot guiltier than I have been on any of the last Sundays of the previous
years. To be honest, I wish to stop being dishonest to the coming Sundays of my
life. I am sure of one Sunday that will be interesting in January 2014 itself.
I will be in Kolkata with my camera, my diary and my commitments. But why
should I allow the excitement to stay limited? And there will be other
interesting Sundays for reasons known to me.
Therefore I wish to ask for forgiveness from all the 51
Sundays of 2013 on the last Sunday of this year. I want to promise myself and
the most loved ones around me that no Sunday of 2014 shall end up being a
waste. But how do I promise? The future is unpredictable. All I can do is wish
that I see myself either unpacking my suitcase or pursuing my passion of
reading and writing on Sundays. I can no more afford my Sundays to go unused or
less enjoyed. God has made only one Sunday for every week. Let me give my total
self to the good cause of living up to the many other upcoming Sundays of my
life, our lives. You never know when life might fall short of too many Sundays
anytime, anywhere!
-vociferous
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