Today as my best friend was driving me home, she sighed and said it was Monday tomorrow. I exclaimed that for me every day would be Sunday until I got myself a job. When I got home and thought about it, the reality sunk in. Being unemployed right now makes me both conscious and happy. I don’t want to look too happy because it reflects poorly on me as a person. At the same time getting to lay back doesn’t sound that bad.
I finally ordered fiction which will reach me this week, and have been thinking about what I can do to fill the time between the release of episodes of the k-drama I am watching on Netflix. I am realising even this unending weekend is keeping me busy. I have been helping my mother, trying to coordinate with friends and working in time for myself.
We have visitors because there’s a baby at home, and that means for my parents their weekends become packed. I am noticing this now as I lifted my eyes from my laptop. All the pressing politics like our deteriorating economy, are now occupying space in my mind. I am finding time for old Indian singers and painters from the independence era who suddenly piquing my interest.
Everything I had turned off is turning on now in my head. Suddenly the poetry is flowing again, the rhythm of the music initiates some movement which vaguely resembles dance. I find myself smiling at odd times and the best part is I am not in love. Oh that’s another thing, I have time to think about how I can avoid dying alone. I mean, I might as well right?
I am also getting a lot of time to think about how I feel, my emotions and my thoughts. It’s not so hurried now. Today, I was watching Gangs of Wasseypur with my Dad who hadn’t seen it and for the first time in months I thought about humanity as more than a concept that could be theorised.
My father wanted to watch it, and I knew it would scar him. I did put it on with multiple warnings of the gore, the violence and the lack of happy endings, a movie often seen as India’s Game of Thrones. Of course I enjoyed it when I had watched it, the revenge, the betrayal and the escalation of violence from 0 to 1000 in the span of seconds is gripping. The violence is reminiscent of the Quentin Tarantino style of story-telling.
Gangs of Wasseypur wouldn’t make it to any list of movies to watch on a Sunday. The only “feel-good” moment in the two-part film is the end when the ultimate revenge has been taken. But watching the film, reminded me of my taste for the odd stuff. The oddest things are beginning to catch my attention once again, an inconsequential lyric, a new taste or a new shade in the sky. I am living in my own hyperreality. Somehow this got lost in pursuing the mundane things in life.
I thought I forgot how to write poetry, I thought if I would try it would come out like an imitation. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to string my emotions together on paper word by word, line by line. My grandfather always told me poetry never dies. I suppose it doesn’t. The minute my life stopped being a burden, the poetry came naturally.
I caught a brilliant cold, and now that I am slightly better, I feel like the weekend has actually begun. On Saturday, I felt like my good life was over, I wasn’t well-rested, my eight-year old pair of non-marking Badminton shoes had fallen apart before I was supposed to go for a game and I felt like all happiness was short-lived. The shoes broke my faith in my determination to play the game again, somehow the wearing out of the shoes symbolised my worn out tryst with the game like somehow time had run out. But, life finds a way. I will find a new pair of shoes.
Today was better, and then it went on to become excellent, with my best friend. This month is going by fast and days like this are hard to come by, where you feel every emotion in twenty-four hours. Where you also get to contemplate about evey one of those emotions, they are so rare. We go from one emotion to another without any control or thought.
These mysteries need time to be solved. Now I feel like the answers are all around me and I have never bothered to look. I could have lived my entire life without looking for them but I feel like that would have been my biggest regret. There’s still life in this Sunday left to live, and live it I will. For, I don’t know when I’ll get another ‘forever Sunday’.