DW (oh that’s me, am trying to be a bit anon owing to a recent bad stalking experience!) to DI (who is idle on Gtalk)

DW: I lovvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvveeeee youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

DW: Thank you!!!!

DW: Muah!

DW: later… bye!

Probably DI would have come back to her desk (in a forever blue jeans of course!) and scratched her head in confusion. Possibilities are also high that she might dismiss it knowing the cynic me and the latest polls on Aaj Talk also hint that 13% of the population think that she might ping me back or log into my blog.

Aaah but that’s another story … let me start with the one I wanted to tell you today.

This story is about Saturdays. No wait this story is about changing Saturdays. This story is about the journey of “OMG SATURDAY!!!!” to “Saturday. So?”.

Remember when you were a kid, how Saturday mornings seem to be the perfect ones to wake up early especially when the alarm wasn’t on duty?

This was my story atleast. Sundays at my place meant the entire family around (I grew up for a majority of my adolescent period in a joint family set up) and since the male members of the house insisted on spending ‘educative time’ with their young chimps, mornings were seldom sleepy!

So it was the Saturday morning which I loved. Being allowed to laze around in the garden with my milk cup in the hand, I felt like Alice often – lost and in a wonderful world. The baths were lazy and the time for imagination running wild on the shit pot was not measured (;p). I loved Saturdays. It was always an “OMG Saturday!” and not a “Saturday. So?”

Remember when you were a young adult, how Saturday mornings meant junior college sans classes and only fun?

This was the story of a lot of us. I went to an all girls junior college. Not really. On weekdays the school held morning classes for girls and afternoon sessions for boys with only two hours of overlapping co-education. Of course, those two hours meant the urgent necessity to make innumerable trips to the rest room, water bottles running dry every hour and trips to the cooler a must. Forgetting books during lunch at other classes, which were remembered just when the boys assembly bell rang and then once out of class taking the longest route possible to the destination with a pair of black naughty boy shoes following you.

So it was Saturday when the co-education was allowed that school regained its charm. Those SUPW classes were definitely socially useful and productive and the work done during those 4 hours in school brought tremendous results. The beneficiaries were definitely not restricted to the young couples, but also the chana wala, the ice cream man outside school. Aaah what fun and thrill that 5 rupee coin in the pocket brought, who needed Barista then? And yes surprisingly, the skirts mysteriously decreased their length on Saturdays, the winds kissed open hairs which were otherwise always found in oiled pigtails and kohl adorned the eyes – for Saturday was also the ‘no school assembly’ day! I loved Saturdays. It was always an “OMG Saturday!” and not a “Saturday. So?”

Remember the time you were in college and Saturdays meant the teachers returning from empty classrooms while the mass bunking sessions led you to back to back movies and an entire day of adventurous get away.

This was my Saturday for 5 years. Visits to the temple because the walk was romantic, trips to the waterfall trekking hillocks whose counts we forgot in urging the ‘fatty’ amongst us to not give up. Lazing around by the only ‘hookah joint’ till the owner chucked us out. The nightly strolls by the fort and then taking trips to the lakeside for a lovely Sunday sunrise. Those were the best Saturdays of my life. I loved Saturdays. It was always an “OMG Saturday!” and not a “Saturday. So?”

Remember when you fell in love and Saturdays meant the wonderful courtship or waking up beside him inhaling the most secured smell?

This was a precious dream Saturday. Planning, giggling, smothering, romanticising, fighting, mocking, pseudo anger sessions and then back to planning again. Has time ever passed so quickly that before you realise that you have stolen enough cuddles its past noon. An evening by the bay, picking on favourite food, music tapping the souls and then walks with meaningful nothings. I loved Saturdays. It was always an “OMG Saturday!” and not a “Saturday. So?”

Of course, Saturdays in childhood were accompanied with homework, junior college meant career counselling workshops too. Saturdays in college were often marred by empty pockets and then during young courtship period trips to office to secure the future.

And now?

Home works will probably haunt me in a different way in a few years and career counselling is now more during family functions when I meet my young cousins. The bank balance surprisingly doesn’t stir me and I have a comfortable work-life balance. We can take trips on Saturdays, go shopping, enjoy rides, spend hours star gazing, but instead when asked we say “Saturday. So?”

Bryan Adams wished that he was a “Saturday Night” once, I still wish that somewhere, I want to dance till sun rise again, I want to drink straight out of the bottle while walking on the beach. I want to tell my man I love him till I fall asleep saying that, but then why don’t all these wishes send shivers of excitement down the spine… instead seem so do-able that categorise as mundane?

Why is there a ‘yea could do that’ with a limp shrug instead of ‘yea let’s DO that!’ look with glistening eyes.

Long back I had written a similar post on Friday musings … guess mundaness of weekends really seeps in when u grow up.

But somewhere the downfall of Saturdays hurt bad than the downfall of Mughals in the Indian history!

P.S: DI’s Gtalk status read – Saturday.So? – NOW u getting the connection? Stop scratching your head and go get the Ginger anti-dandruff shampoo from Body shop it’s really good. And no I don’t have dandruff!