Monday during school days was fun only if the time table for the day included Library, Dance, Games or the like periods.

 Else, they used to be crazy with every living soul in the family trying their best to wake me up and even after they got me dressed me moving like a zombie, looking around the house as though I have never been in the room before in my life. During dark winter mornings it was worse and my mother supposed that somewhere into my morning classes at school I finally realized what I was doing.

 College days were more zombie in their own kind. Saturdays meant mass bunking and romanticizing by the fort in the mornings, trips to lakes in the evenings or to the hills and then giving into flavoured waters. So stringent was this routine coupled with mass bunking that the Monday morning lectures were often the most important ones lined up with sadist professors. And since I had this brilliant group of friends who were determined that it was against their ethics to take notes, I would be found zombie eye, hungover scribbling notes sitting at the first bench.

 Things didn’t change much after entering the corporate world, making me feel that somewhere Monday was in love with me. I envied people like Y who run on US time and woke up on Mondays when half the dreadful day was over, while I perpetually fended to the needs of the Japanese, the Chinese and the Aussies, whose Monday morning exuberance and chirpiness I fail to decipher (sorry CB!).

Morning today in this part of the world for me began at 7 at the office. I like to step into this quietness of the usually bursting with energy office. As no super bosses sit around here and the average age around this place is 25, life is seldom dull. But then mornings like these when each chair is in its place, no phones are ringing makes me remind of a scene from Malory Towers – a well described scene of peaceful serenity and silence at the hostel corridor after all the naughty kids have gone to sleep.

 Today there was this difficult custom notification which stared at me through its blood-shot eyes. I haven’t been able to master it all through the weekend (not that I was around to try!). I pondered, drank water, smoked, roamed about at the adjoining terrace, counted crows, walked around, read all post-its posted across my table as reminders and then just plopped down on my chair. And slowly began to move it. Slowly at first, until gradually it began to pick up speed. I felt nervous at first, empty stomach made me want to lurch forward and leap of, but as it spun faster and faster I began to giggle. The louder and louder I laughed the faster it went. My sides ached. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so school girlishly giggly, legs up, feet out, hair blowing in the breeze. After a few moments, as I saw the daily cleaner stare at me, with ghost struck eyes I slowed down to catch my breath.

 Conscious I mumbled to him about some screws being loose and a housekeeping call being required. But as I turned my back to him and went to prepare my honey ginger drink I knew the screws in my head that had gone lose to help me get through an otherwise drab Monday.

 Sometimes it pays to be stupidly screw-less loose… esp on a Monday!


[image courtesy –]