No no, the world doesn't mean you
World means the aam aadmi that slogs the ass off for 6 days on the trot, come sardi, garmi or barsaat. The person that keeps the office kitchen stacked with goodies, the air-con humming, the glass pane spic and span. The person that often travels almost 2 hours everyday to reach work, work for 12 hours and then take another 3 hours to reach back. And then get ready to go through the same rigmarole in less than 6 hours. Including sleep.
The Sunday I am talking about is the day when he can be a boss. The day when there's nobody breathing down his neck. The day when he must get things done for this home, his house, his family. Fast. So that he can stretch and get lazy about things. And then take his family out to a place where they may indulge in simple pleasures of life. Places like the Juhu Chaupaatis, Marine Drives.
And since almost everyone is resting, recuperating, is at home, the city of dreams appear much less crowded, even liveable. When there's hardly any traffic on the road and you can reach where you want to be in a jiffy. Life looks so simple, so manageable on Sundays that I wait for 6 days to get to a Sunday.
No, not to recuperate. I dont want to recuperate on a Sunday. I dont want to sleep late on a Saturday so that I can sleep till late on a Sunday. On a Sunday I want to be up and about as soon as I can. I want to live it up. I want to enjoy the calmness that prevails around me. I want to soak in the space that I dont get on other days. I want to be less rushed. I want to breathe - take a deep breath that I dont get on other days.
I want to team up with other romantics and dreamers like me and take off to the fantasy land that is made up of our respective ideas of right and wrong. Like, right now, as I write this, back of my head, I am thinking about utopian business where everyone is an owner and has the freedom to choose what they want to work on. I'd talk about it sometime later. Right now, rant is on Sundays. So, sundays are perfect to do things that you never thought you had the time for. For example, this blog. As worked has picked up, I have sort of ignored the only true companion that I've had since 2004 I think. Have been irregular this year, the year when my next book will hit the stores. Do buy it.
Coming back, on a Sunday, even time seems to slow down. Except the speed at which the Starbucks' barista can whip up the coffee. Do you see the irony in my post here? May be you need a Sunday to think about it.
P.S.: Not happy about how this ends!