Sweet Holiday

For me, Sundays are great. Because it8217;s a holiday, and like everyone else, just the thought of a holiday gives me a high. I8217;ve felt this right from childhood, and the feeling has only grown stronger as I8217;ve grown older. At school, Sunday was even more special, much more than a holiday. In my boarding school at Shimla, Con-vent of Jesus and Mary, feast days were always on Sundays8230;days when fabu-lous food was laid out for us. Sundays were also the only days we were al-lowed to go out of the campus. It was that one day in the entire week when we were permitted to wear clothes other than our uniform, clothes that were different, coloured.

I remember dressing up on Sun-days, as much as one could 8220;dress up8221; as a schoolgirl. Of using the free-dom Sunday brought with it to the hilt: we8217;d get out of school, hang out at the Mall just for the heck of it, and feel liberated from all constraints.

Ever since then, Sun-day mornings find me waking up to a feeling of freedom, a lovely hangover from schooldays, I think. So much so that if, for some rea-son, I have to work on a Sunday, I feel very depressed. I work very hard, am extremely sincere about my work, and yet if I lose out on a Sunday, I start feel-ing victimised. It8217;s my happy day, the day to do as I please, be myself, my hol-iday from work, my day of absolute re-laxation. I wake up late, I play with my dogs, lounge around. I simply can8217;t lose out on it.

For me, Sunday is the reason to go on for the rest of the week.

AS TOLD TO LATA KHUBCHANDANI