Sunday was special, Sunday had a feeling. Morning tasted good and evening even better. I am going 10 years back in my life to the Sunday I used to have those days. My school was close to my home and everybody knew everybody in that small size school. My class was small and compact with only about 25 students of my age studying together from 8am to 2 pm in summers and 10am to 4 pm in winters. School timings were different in different seasons, school uniforms were different but Sunday was the same. I would woke up in the morning with the sound of Rangoli (famous program that featured classic videos songs) every Sunday on television. We would never miss Rangoli on Sunday morning. And it would be followed by having the world class breakfast prepared by my mom. Sunday had a special treat, Sunday morning had a special breakfast like halwa, Chaat, homemade chips and more.
Sunday had a smell of these cuisines prepared by mom in morning. Sunday was free. Every member of house was at home for whole day. Sunday had presence. Sunday had warmth, Sunday had discussions. We would have lunch altogether sitting on floor with lots of crockery in front all filled with tastiest dishes in world. We would lick our fingers and end up eating more than enough, we won’t even realize.
Sunday had extra food on the table we would finish it all somewhere between talking. I would plug my video game into tv in noon, I will spend my noom playing Mario, contra tanks and other games. I would call my neighbor friend to join me in the hunt. We would thrash each other in double mode in video games. In evening we would go to some uncle’s house or maybe market in town on my father’s scooter. I would stand in front of scooter holding the handle of scooter with hands checking the speedometer every second in a hope that it will cross 40km/hour one day. I would start imaginary race with the people passing by on their vehicle but I will end up loosing since my father would never go more than 40. Sunday had race. Sunday had winds across my face. Sunday had the power. After lots of such Sundays I would not fit in front of scooter so I will sit on seat between my mom and dad like a sandwich. I would grow up more and one day I will not fit there too and finally I would become free from scooter sandwich.
In evening I would rather go to play with my friends in neighborhood than to go on scooter ride. We did not had any open ground where we could stretch our legs. We had one but it was too far across the road. And we were not supposed to cross the roads. So we made our street the playground. We would play all kinds of games that need no any resources, like hide and seek, running across the street, making caves from the sand. There were some plots in which construction work was going on. Those construction sites were our next to best playgrounds. Sunday gave us choice. I would come back home in evening covered in dust, tired hungry and exhausted. I would tell stories to my family how brilliant I was today in some particular game. Some evening I would also fly some kites from the terrace of my home. I would sometimes indulge in kite fighting with my friends also. When the winds were strong we were the Columbus of the sky and our kite would be the ship sailing high into the clouds with its string in our hand. At night I would sit on study table with my siblings after taking the dinner, My father would help his children to complete their home work allotted from school. Sunday brought help. Sunday was rest. Sunday would become even more colorful if it rained. Sunday was ruined if we had exam next day. There was a potential difference between Sunday and rest of the days of week. Sunday was awesome. We owe a lot of memories to Sunday. 🙂