Guilt free Sunday

When everything comes with an RFID tag (Radio frequency Identification), right from the library books to our entry to secured buildings, how come this guy strolls around without it. If he had been tagged, he wouldn’t have had the guts to barge in through the window, penetrate my comforter, and pierce my eyelid with his warm streaks of rays. Lazily, peering out of my comforter at the sundial, I was astonished to wake up with the minute hand and the hour hand vertically slicing the entire circle in two halves . Me, waking up at 6.A.M. on a Sunday is once in a blue “sun” occurrence.

Wading my way with an air of arrogance and casting a condescending look at all my lazy roomies who are still snuggled in their comforters, I slipped out of my apartment. Fresh morning breeze, which was flirting with the trees overlooking my appt, found a new crush in me. As always, I try to do the movie inspired scenes of embracing myself with crossed arms and rubbing, to warm myself. Listening to the chirping sparrows, looking at the scurrying squirrels with walnuts, and the seeking sun trying to take a peek at me through the canopy, filled me with a sense of fulfillment. Little Madhavan in me inspired another movie stunt of flinging my arms up in the air and yawn with a high-pitched squeak. Bad stunt indeed, for the stagnating rainwater over our roof hit me without a warning.

Finishing my morning chores, I continued my Sunday Morning after the intermission. Seated on the staircase and holding a hot frothing cup of coffee, I savored the steam rendering waviness to the house and trees in front, while the fragrance of chicory complementing the morning effect. More complementing would have been, if my girl hugged me from behind, throwing her arms around my neck, rubbing her cheeks against my 5’o clock shadowed cheeks, and pleading me for a bed coffee. As I slide a second cup in front, her “Chow Chweet” turns into a childish glower for want of more sweetness in her coffee to which I retort, “Try me”

Getting back to reality, things are not as black and white as they seem to be. It would have been more enjoyable if my romanticism and movie inspired stunts were not bombarded with thoughts of my research work, its related anxieties, or the empty future begging me for attention. My roommate once put them in words as, “Guilt free pleasure is a rare commodity and quite a lavish luxury.” Undeniable facts for the grad student, by the grad student and of the grad student. Though there are miles to go before I sleep, I think I will cross the bridge when it comes, what with double treat of French Open finals and World Cup Soccer in Germany vying for attention.

Until my next Guilt-free Sunday
Merci
Guten Tag.