I sometimes wonder why these Sunday evenings have to be so tedious. Feeling neurotic. All the melancholic memories resurface every time I witness a lonesome Sunday evening.
I remembered somebody’s saying, ” You don’t matter for me.”
“Maybe that’s why you wanted me to know that I don’t matter for you.” – My reply was followed by a thudding sound. Really, these earpieces of landline phones suffer a lot.
I look out of the window. I see mountain silhouettes glistening in silvery sunshine. Soon the ambience becomes vivid and starts coloring my mind too. The horizon is set alight by the time…
I found my cell phone was ringing when the thoughts about my incomplete assignments started horrifying me. It was Tushar talking about the same. Assignments. I felt little relaxed when he declared he did none of the assignments. And I felt little more soothing when I was in canteen with an amusing taste of sweet, milky tea.
To elevate the mood, I called up bai and asked how everyone at home was doing. Till I got back into pace, boys called me up and again I landed in the canteen. Relishing tasty pakodas prove one of the best anti-depressants. And being with friends proves one the best self-actualizing technique.
So that was it. The story of a Sunday.
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