I don’t like weekends. Not the way most people do anyways. Let me just say that neither do Friday evenings see me doing cartwheels to the tune of TGIF nor do Monday morning blues put me in the throes of depression. Weekends, by now, are at best a mixed blessing where the balance can tilt on either side veering between the downright harrowing to the relatively tolerable. The bottom line however is that on a Monday morning, I’m glad it’s over.
For those who are wondering about this aberration from the “happy weekend” phenomena, let me clarify that this is a relatively new development in my life. As a child I, like all other children, lived for the weekends. Friday was the happiest day of the week regardless of what the it had in store- tests, exams etc. Friday evening was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel beyond which lay two days of pure joy and it went by in the planning of the weekend. It was Saturday that saw the real celebrations. Be it to just laze around and do nothing, TV and gaming choices being rather limited in the ‘80s and ‘90s, or saunter on the Shimla Mall Road aimlessly – life on a Saturday was good. Sunday mornings the festive spirit did begin to wane what with threat of unfinished home work and impending tests looming large. But the real precursor to the Monday morning blues was the painfully depressing tune that bellowed out of the idiot box as Doordarshan aired its Sunday evening movie. No matter how pathetic the movie, it came in handy to divert oneself from the Monday morning , at least until bed time. By Monday morning all was lost and we headed to school with a heavy heart as if we were being led to the guillotine instead. And so the cycle continued ad infinitum.
While in college, the pain of a Monday morning was considerably lessened by all that college life offered other than academics- bunking classes to catch a movie or gossip over a cup of coffee. The euphoria of Friday evening however was pretty much like those of school days and even more so because of the widened horizons of entertainment. And things continued in the same vein after I started working.
So when did this euphoria of a Friday evening begin to wane? As the responsibilities of marriage, child and household started invading my hunky dory existence. As far as I knew, I was just supposed to look glamorous with a baby in my arms and the household was to run on auto pilot. Sadly reality isn’t like what you see in glossies and soon mundane life edged MAC out of my shopping list and replaced it with grocery items. In pretty much the same vein, lazy- crazy weekends gave way to weekends brimming over with trivialities. Friday evenings saw me making my “things to do” list in which fun was not a priority. The challenge was not catching movies back to back or downing tequila shots but in juggling things around and emerging alive at the end of it. If I could sleep till 7.30 am, Saturday morning had begun well. Most Saturdays however did not begin thus. First sonny dear was too young to let me sleep so “late” and then he grew up and is now too excited to sleep so late. Between keeping him fruitfully occupied to doing the weekly/monthly shopping to attending to pending household chores or the “pressure” of socialising, my own existential dilemmas and mundane desires to just have some “me time” over the weekend have taken a back seat.
As I head to work on a Monday morning, I’m a thoroughly harassed but happy person. I’ve survived yet another weekend! Come Monday and order has been restored to my universe. Office never looked as attractive as it does now. The first thing that I do on reaching office is to collapse on my chair with a cup of coffee and catch my breath. Weekends, like most family holidays, is a break that I need another break to recover from. The only time I do a little jig on hearing the phrase “TGIF” now is if I’m headed to one, the restaurant that is. And for that I don’t need a weekend.