The most loved in the world
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How are you feeling right now? By the way, over time, this has become my favourite question. It’s more personal than “How are you?” and less invasive than “Are you OK?”. It strikes the perfect balance between concern and optimism. Anyway, it’s Sunday night here and I believe it’s the same for most of my humble readers. Also, Iam not sure about you but I love Sundays, particularly the ones where I don’t do any work. Which happens as rarely as Halley’s comet but much appreciated.
It wasn’t always like this though.
Once upon a time, I was a dreamy lost child who associated Sunday mornings with the cutest thing that Gulzarsaab ever wrote—Jungle Jungle Baat Chali Hai—and back then, not just the cartoons, even the food resonated. South Indian breakfast: dosa the stuff I loved. Bad pun. Well, to this day, I connect the smell of crisp dosa dipped in green chutney with the visual treat in my neighbour's house (because theirs was the only house with a television). Innocent days indeed.
Back to adulthood.
Today is that day of the week (unless you work in the startup ecosystem) when you can simply go back to sleep because the world doesn't need you. There are so many things that simply don't work on this glorious day. Philosophy. Motivation. Good advice. Bad attitude. Discipline. Hygiene. And the list goes on and on.
In fact, one can write an endless love letter here because deep down, we all know that we pretend to work for money but in reality, we work for the Big S. That’s it. Even if you have an interchangeable weekly off, that day becomes your Sunday. If you are a god-fearing person, you’ve got to thank the early communists for this working class gift.
On that helpless inability to compose an incomprehensible adoration for something we’ve all come to cherish throughout our lives, let me add some definite thoughts on the same.
Is it too early to use the word 'early' for anything on a Sunday?
If only there was a way to harness the excess energy neighbourhood kids have on a Sunday morning.
Sunday evenings are always the worst. Sad and beautiful at the same time.
Some of us will never know the joy of waking up on a Sunday afternoon.
Have you ever had a Sunday lunch so good that you go to sleep hoping that you never wake up again?
Goals and Sundays shouldn't be used in the same sentence.
Sunday is not exactly the most appropriate day to start your life all over again.
Fun fact: Sunday is the fastest day of the week.
Sunday puts the dull in indulgence.
It's 2021 and bathing on Sunday is still socially acceptable.
My autobiography shall be titled I Don't Know Why I Woke Up Early On Sundays.
A Sunday well spent is a Sunday wasted on good friends.
Sunday is the worst day to have a lame song stuck inside your head.
Sunday is a blessing in disguise except it's not really in disguise.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, should happen on a Sunday. The whole day should be a beautiful blur.
Being married can also translate to being productive on a Sunday against one's wish.
Sundays aren't for road less traveled – they are for staying meaningless.
Great things rarely happen on a Sunday afternoon.
There is and nor will ever be a correct response to "What's going on?"—especially on a Sunday.
I hate the stench of Sunday coming to an end and nothing unites us as this sinking feeling we experience at night.
The anxiety you feel for Monday is you yearning for Sunday to not leave you more than anything else.
A well spent Sunday provides you the strength to face Monday bravely.
Enjoy your Sunday. Otherwise, somebody else will.
Is it too late to suggest that Sundays aren't for everyone?