"The Sunday" - a short story

I should be honest in admitting that the one thing I hate most is getting out of my bed.

Even more so when it is a Sunday; the one day when I get away from the misery of scanning through millions of financial statements and striking deals worth billions. I love the warmth that the coziness of my bed provides. I love the security it provides my mind from the hassles and dangers of life. I love this $15,000 bed of mine that the very work I despise helps me afford.

Today is a Sunday too. I wish I could just sleep through the day but there are errands to run through. I tell you its hard being a single in a mansion the size of two football fields.

The cruel world of finance made sure I stayed away from my parents. On trips, I stayed in Hyatts and Marriotts no doubt, but sans my mom and dad. Never found “the one” either. To be more precise, I never had the time to find one or was too busy to look for “the one” who might just have brushed past me in a shopping mall or might have been sitting across the table in a meeting.

So here I am – a thirty-something single with staggering wealth all set to get through a Sunday.

After much thought and after-thought, I finally decided to slip out of my paradise – my bed. Dragging myself to the bathroom felt like ages. When I did finally reach to brush my teeth, there was hardly any toothpaste left to spill out of the tube. Damn! Why must we brush our teeth everyday? Why can’t the body have it’s own cleaning mechanism? Alas, I have no answers and must do the mundane. Throwing the tube in the bin I ran through the closet to grab a new one and get done with the job.

The maid had already prepared tea. It was time for some good time with my tea, the newspaper and the morning sun. As soon as I stepped out onto the roof-top garden, the rain-god now decided to play spoilsport with my plans. Little showers first and then heavy rain started making its presence felt.

While I was still cursing whoever it is who invented rain, I noticed the little kids living in slums around my house shouting and screaming with glee at the sight of rain. Peacefully playing board games, they lost no time in switching to cricket in the rainfall. I mean how stupid can they be. Rainfall is when you are supposed to rush for cover and wait for its end. Uneducated brats I suppose weren’t taught this stuff.

Anyway I guess there was nothing much I could have done so I decided to retreat back into the safety of the roof. The gardener would anyway delay his arrival given the sudden burst of rainfall. So I had time enough to catch up with playing a game or two on my Playstation. Playstation had been my trusted companion for a few years now and to be very true it has never failed to give me my much needed relaxation.

Time flew by. The rain had stopped and I had meanwhile dozed off on the couch. The voice of my maid disturbed the silence. It was already past noon and being a Sunday she was as anxious as ever to return back to her family. Sunday was the only day her husband, a construction worker, was home so she would wrap up everthing by noon and head back home.

I was all alone by myself for the rest of the day. I quickly grabbed a bite and turned my attention to some official papers. The heavy rain had provided the ideal excuse for the gardener to skip work so I could easily postpone overseeing his work for another week. The sun was out again but I was in no mood to bask in it.

The children down the street had returned back to their board games. Weird as it may seem, probably their choice of games changed to suit the weather or may be it was just stupidity. Either way they seemed to make the most of any kind of weather or time of the day.

Finally the day drew to a close. The sky turned orange and the sun was all set to go down on another Sunday. Birds chirped on their way back to the nests. Street lamps were soon to shine in full glory.

Kids meanwhile had been forced into a bath by their mothers and were out in the open in fresh clothes making paper airplanes. One by one they displayed their creative abilities and pointed their airplanes towards the orange sun, blew as much air into the tails and hurled them towards the sun. It is amazing how when we are kids we try reaching for the moon and the sun and yet we never can. These kids tirelessly tried to get their airplanes to reach the evening sun. Finally as darkness prevailed, their mothers were out again driving them into the little slum huts.

But the sunset could only mean one thing to me – the end of one of my rare holidays. The feeling is one of total gloom. I retired to my living room. The maid had already prepared dinner and left it in the refrigerator. I was too gloomy to bother heating it and decided to give dinner a skip.

I tuned into my favourite radio station playing soft rock and made myself comfortable in my arm chair. Within seconds millions of thoughts flooded my mind. There was something special about this Sunday I thought. I had an overwhelming feeling of finally giving some thought to my life and how it is to be lived. A fat bank balance definitely wasn’t buying me the wealth of life. So what was I missing?

How come the rain held two contrasting meanings for me and the slum children? Why were they so happy befriending the rain while I loathed the sight of it? Why did I miss the rainbow?

For a second my attention shifted to the Natasha Beningfield chart-topper playing on the radio –

Feel the rain on your skin,

No one else can feel it for you

Only you can let it in…

May be I found the answer. May be it was all about me making an effort to enjoy the beauty of the rain. May be it was just about perspective.

Why was I so alone in this gigantic house? Why was I just a few miles away from my parents and yet never saw them for years? Why did I never fall in love? Why didn’t I have anybody to go back home to while even my maid enjoyed marital bliss? Why was a Playstation my best companion?

May be I was addicted to the world that is so materialistic. May be I was too afraid to lose out on a deal or not make it to my next million dollars within the next year. May be fame and fortune promised me an ever elusive world of happiness that seemed so close yet so far.

Meanwhile Natasha was into her next verse –

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions.

Feel the rain…

How true, I sighed.

I am still only half way through my life, assuming to I do live the average number of years. But can I change now? Can I look at the world through separate lenses this time round? Can I suddenly pay attention to every woman who brushes past me? Can I let a deal or two go while I take time out to rest in my mother’s lap? Can I now run into a person who could be a better companion than a gaming device? Can I discard my old self just like I could do away with the old toothpaste tube and grab hold of a new? Or is my future already damned?

Not so surprisingly though, Natasha provided the answer with her chorus –

Staring at the blank page before you,

Open up the dirty window.

Let the sun illuminate the words

That you cannot find….

Today is when your book begins,

The rest is still unwritten !

- by Fuehrer