The Real Monday Blues
It was a wet, rainy day. My mother was busy trying to pull my unruly hair into two plaits as I was trying to wear my socks. My mother was partially successful, and I was an utter failure in the attempt. So I stuffed my socks in my bag, carried my shoes in my hand, and ran to the school van. The driver had been honking for the last 5 minutes. Only when I entered — I realized I missed the most important thing. My lunch bag — my saviour for the day was in my house.
‘Maaaa … Ma … lunch bag’ I yelled from the van to no avail. I change course. ’Paa …. Lunch bag. Please!’ I would shout to my dad — who was actually fast asleep in the house. Good time to mention my house was on the 2nd floor. I raised my voice, ’Paaaaaaa ….’.
By this time all the ‘Appas’ from the ground, first and second floors would have stepped out into their balconies to check if something was wrong. But not my dad.
It’s not like I had biryani for lunch. Lunch was always chapathis and some vegetables or on really bad days it was chapathi with jam. But hey — some food is better than no food. I wanted my lunch bag — I knew it’d have either a cream biscuit packet or on a lucky day — a Lays packet. You know the airbag with 5 chips.
Just the thought of the Lays packet strengthened my resolve. I needed my lunch bag. So I breathed in and yelled louder — ‘ Papa .. my lunch bag — the van is leaving. You have to DROP me to school.’ The last sentence — absolute magic I tell you. My father would teleport and I’d have the lunch bag in my hand in 20 seconds straight. Then he’d wave. After this, he’d go to the driver and say, ‘Seekram po pa(Go quickly). It’s getting late.’ You might think he wanted me to reach school on time. But you’d be wrong. He’d push the driver to leave quickly lest I remember some other forgotten item. Maybe like my books or shoes or geometry box. And he’d have to do another 2-floor teleport.
Once in the van — my stress levels began to drop a little. I started pulling on my socks and wearing my shoes. I used a bit of leftover paper to wipe my black shoes until they shone. I tried to settle my books in a more orderly fashion inside my bag. And then it hits me — I have PT class today. PT class equals white shoes. At this point, I’m too far away from home to do another ‘Maa .. shoes’ yell. So I mentally brace myself for a long lecture from my PT Sir.
At around 7:28 AM I reach my school gate. My school was weird in some ways. They believed in keeping the students stress-free. They went about it by making us reach school at 7:30 AM.
After doing bizarre Olympic-style racing to enter the class by 7:30 — our teachers would tell us this. “7:30 to 8 is meditation period. Please close your eyes and relax. Let us try to be stress-free.” All my day's stress would have already happened between 6 and 7 AM.
This wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was this, ‘ Gana mazhai kaaranamaaga indru Chennai palli kaloorigal vidumurai’ (translation — due to heavy rains all schools and colleges in Chennai will remain closed today). This news was always declared at 8 AM. By this time — we’d be in class and asleep. Did I say asleep I meant *meditating*.
8 AM was time for breakfast. After my refreshing meditation *ahem nap* I open my lunch bag. I vaguely remember my mother telling me its Maggi day. I sigh. Happily. Open the box. Curd Rice. What!
Monday morning curd rice. This is what the real Monday blues feel like.
I steady myself. Curd rice can’t defeat me. I search for the saving grace — a.k.a Mango pickle. I search and search until I reach the other galaxy but my pickle dabba is missing. I close my eyes. Breathe in. Touch my forehead with my index finger. And go back in time. ‘Don’t forget to take your lab coat and pickle dabba. I’ve kept it next to your bag.’ I hear my mother’s voice say this.
Oh no! No pickle and no lab coat. And the first period was Chemistry lab. It was going to be a difficult Monday.
Translations
1. Maa — Indian slang for Mom
2. Paa/Papa — Indian slang for Dad
3. Dabba — box
