A Sunday

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What happens when you've to work on a sunday?

Submitted: June 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 20, 2017




Yesterday was Sunday. A day we all relax. A day off from our hectic working life. Sunday, is paradise. From Monday to Saturday, our lives simply become limited to house and office. The last week for me, was extremely busy. One meeting after the other, endless deadlines; it felt like you are in a marathon without a final point. Raima, my wife, consoles me by saying that I’m not the only one. Well yes, I’m not the only one. Raima’s work demands much more time and effort. She leaves at 7 in the morning and returns at 8 in the evening all tired and exhausted. 

After such an exhausting week, our bodies were desperate for a Sunday to relax. So now, the thing was like this. It was seven in the morning. I was sitting on the couch. Just opposite to the couch was an old brown bamboo chair on which my wife sat with a cup of tea. She disappointedly looked at me and said, “Why don’t you say your boss that you’ve to visit someone?”

“Raima, what nonsense! Mr. Kumar lives two blocks away from our house. He’ll find out that we’re at home.” I said angrily. The anger was not on Raima, to be fair. It was on the situation I found myself in. After such a loud, busy week; to go to work on a Sunday is completely ridiculous! If I had known earlier this week about Sunday being working, I would’ve found a way out. But it was Saturday, my boss informed me about Sunday’s meeting with the Chinese group. I knew the importance of the meeting but I barely had any contribution to the project. And above all, it was Sunday. That meeting was somehow not worth wasting that one holiday and when the coming week had a much more hectic schedule. Thinking about all this made me feel sick. I took a sip of my tea and picked up the newspaper from the table to read. Just like the advertisements of “idea”, my wife out of nowhere came up with a solution.

“Do a thing! Tell your boss you’re extremely sick. Tell him you got viral fever! He can’t say no to that.” And just like idea connections are, good advertisements and bad signal my wife’s solution was the same.

“Raima, I’ve a meeting to attend tomorrow, too. And that one I can’t skip. If I say I’m sick today, it surely means I won’t be all fit by tomorrow; this idea won’t work.” Frustrated, I opened the newspaper.

 Just as I read the headline, my wife suggested; “Go to work today and take this Friday and Saturday off. We can go out for a weekend trip.”

“Not possible.” I spoke without looking at her, pretending to be busy reading the newspaper. “I’ve some important workshops to organize this weekend.”

“Excellent” my wife shouted “Why do you even come back home Anup? Do a thing, today when you go to office, carry your clothes with you, too. There’s no need of coming back to this place. All the week I work like anything hoping to spend a Sunday with you and you, well you, can’t even sit home for a Sunday.”

“Raima! Don’t make a scene out of it! It’s not like I want to go to work! It’s that I have to go!”

“Ah sure, that’s quite a lot of an explanation.”

Now my head was burning hot; a working Sunday, a daunting week ahead and a frustrated wife. Life gives you a hard kick sometimes. I kept the newspaper on the table with frustration and furiously drank the tea. My wife adjusted her glasses, looked at me and threw a smile, a cunning one.

“It’s certainly not possible for you to be sick. So what if I’m sick?” She broadened her smile.

“Explain?” I said, now with a little curiosity.

“Tell your boss that I’m sick. I’ve really high fever and there’s no way you can go to work today but you promise him to be there tomorrow.”

“Wow Raima! That’s intelligence.” I was thoroughly satisfied with this excuse. I finally had a day off for myself. Raima perhaps could come out with some brilliant solutions. It all felt so good. Gushing with happiness, I went to our room looking for my phone. Exactly then the doorbell rang. I went to get that. When I opened the door I saw a girl. Must be twelve, I thought. She had a brown complexion. She had dry golden hair. She wore a yellow faded kurti. All I could conclude was, she was poor. She asked for Raima, referring her as “Madam ji”

My wife came out. The girl was our maid’s daughter.

My wife asked her “Where’s your mother?”

“She’s sick madam ji. She has very high fever. We don’t have a phone. So I came to inform you that she won’t be able to come today”

“ What? She has already taken so many leaves. She only has to come for work on Sundays and she’s taking off on that too! Tell her I’ll subtract money from her salary!”

Raima looked at me and said “These people take us for granted. Who’s’ gonna do the mopping and utensils now? All the week I work so hard in the office and now I can’t get a day spared at home.”

“Madam but she’s very ill.”  The girl helplessly said.

“That’s a very nice excuse! Tell her she’s not getting the full salary for this month!”

“No madam ji, don’t do that. I’ll work in place of her.”

The girl went to the kitchen and started washing the utensils.

Yesterday was Sunday. A day we all relax.


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