Sunday evening melancholy. Have you experienced it? That hated unnamed feeling in the pit of your stomach as you watch the sun go down, and the eerie Sunday twilight seems to stretch a tad too long? That strange sense of limbo, on the brink of the end of a leisurely two days with the bleak promise of a week of school ahead? Does it bring back memories from your childhood? Of pre-monday chores. That depressing feeling that is Sunday evening. The end of a weekend of fun, and slipping silently into Monday. That sudden bout of Monday morning blues descending on you on Sunday evening.
This feeling from way back in time. It is still crystal clear. Of frantically polishing shoes and hoping like hell they’d be dry in time. Of grudgingly packing my school bag and secretly wishing I’d wake up with a fever. Of wanting to stay up late, when all the world is saying “Go to bed, you have school tomorrow.” Yes that. I had a bout of that last weekend. And the damn thing has lasted all week.
There’s only one cure for it in my books. Snuggling between my parents on their massive bed, dragging on conversations just so I wouldn’t have to go to bed. And thankfully, I came pretty close to doing that. Because my parents were visiting me in Goa. And we spent a wonderful weekend together. Four whole days of lazy meandering through Goa, afternoon naps, reading, cooking together and of course conversations about work, life, and beyond.
It’s an odd feeling of time catching up, when you suddenly realise how the tables have turned. I now play host. I want to pamper them. Show them a good time. Cook for them. Fluff their pillows. Make their beds and tuck them in. I found myself in an oddly nice place, as I took pride in having them over and being the one in charge. Or at least so I’d like to think. Because the truth is, my mother is always the one in charge. She is awesome, and I don’t think I will ever come close. Throw anything at her, and she is on top of it in an instant. Organised, ready for any eventuality and yet always up for a fun time.
My dad, was as usual, being..my dad. A total chiller at heart, he decided at 9 pm one night that he didn’t want to be missing out on all the fun. So he woke up at 5 am, got in his car and drove straight to my home. That one action unravels who he is. Spontaneous, enthusiastic, uncomplicated and always ready to get together.
Even though we visited quaint Goan villages, heritage homes, lonely islands, a large part of their visit was spent quietly at home. In the kitchen, cooking together. Lounging in my living room, each of us immersed in our respective books. Sipping cups of chai in the 5 o clock sunlight and planning trips to the most exciting place in Panjim: the market. Yes, we had a blast.
Its always a weird feeling crashing back to reality from a weekend like that. Its quite like that stuck-in-a-warp feeling when you have just come back from vacation. And when you hit the ground running, which is to say you go straight to work, its doubly harder. Added to it, I’m battling this creature called the a notice period. Such an odd thing to manage, this. I think I have it under control, yet all the time its taking over my very being. Making time crawl, fragmenting my mind and diverting it in a million places. Throwing up unnecessary and complicated questions in my mind. Questions that don’t need answering. Questions that should just be brushed aside, while I power through work and get on with it. Yes, that’s what I need to do. Get on with it. And its becoming close to impossible.
And that explains my mini absence. I’ve had half-written posts, pictures edited, and things to say. But my head has been in a hundred places and the whole week has felt like one massive time warp of the Sunday Evening Blues kind.
But tonight? Its different. Its Thursday. And Thursday always brings an odd sense of comfort to me. When the week turns around the mid-point and Wednesday rolls by, I feel a fake sense of relief. In just knowing that there’s two days to go before the weekend arrives, but hey, its also three whole work days gone by.
The glass is half full. And tomorrow, I will tick off the last day of yet another trying week, and make a mental note: another one down, five more to go.