Sunday is supposed to
be a day of rest. Even God took one day off after a busy six days of creating
the big wide world. He certainly deserved the rest. We ordinary mortals look
for the slightest excuse to plonk down on our behinds, while He definitely had
good reason to want a quiet, undisturbed day to recoup His energy. It couldn’t
have been easy creating the world!
But restful Sundays? Not
the ones I remember growing up…..the mornings anyway. Those who grew up in a
household like mine will know what I’m talking about.
A typical Sunday
morning went like this…Mum & Dad would get up at an insane hour. Okay, so this
was not only on Sunday; they would always be up and about at the crack of dawn!
Well, on Sundays, if we don’t seem to be moving out of bed fast enough, we could
expect the big bang on our bedroom doors.
Being a light sleeper, I’m usually awake at the first noise, but having sat up till the wee hours reading my Barbara Cartland or Denise Robbins romance, I wasn’t about to jump out of bed. I would snuggle deeper into my quilt till I could no longer delay the inevitable.
Being a light sleeper, I’m usually awake at the first noise, but having sat up till the wee hours reading my Barbara Cartland or Denise Robbins romance, I wasn’t about to jump out of bed. I would snuggle deeper into my quilt till I could no longer delay the inevitable.
Anyway, we’d all finally
struggle out of bed, my siblings and I, and make a beeline for the kitchen to
get a hot cup of tea. But wait, that leisurely morning cup of tea is out of the
question. Something appropriately filling has to be prepared to prevent that
embarrassing hungry growl in a quiet moment of prayer in church.
So everyone would get busy – some frying the rice or making galho or something else that is not too complicated but filling enough to satisfy the tummy monster for some time, others preparing the eggs or chutney and some trying to get out of the whole rigmarole.
So everyone would get busy – some frying the rice or making galho or something else that is not too complicated but filling enough to satisfy the tummy monster for some time, others preparing the eggs or chutney and some trying to get out of the whole rigmarole.
The kitchen bustle
over and done with, the bathroom rush would begin. You would have imagined that
those who managed to wiggle out of the kitchen buzz would have gotten that
business out of the way and freed the bathrooms for those who got caught in the
organised chaos called Sunday morning breakfast preparation. No, of course not…
everyone dashes for the bathrooms at the same time causing a huge traffic jam –
seven siblings and two parents when everyone was at home, though some had the
grace to make themselves scarce far away in boarding school for the better part
of the year.
After much harried
chatter, last minute ironing and frantic searches for misplaced stuff, we’d
finally troop out of the house in our Sunday best to arrange ourselves
strategically into the family vehicle. The family transport changed over the
years – Willy’s Jeep, Mahindra Jeep, Ambassador Car, and so on and so forth,
but squeeze in we did every Sunday.
Sometimes in the old jeeps, there would be another round of brouhaha when the vehicle just won’t start. But no worries, the good old hand-crank would come to the rescue. Some energetic turns by a brother or a strong man around the house and the vehicle would come to life. A collective sigh of relief and we’d be on our way.
Sometimes in the old jeeps, there would be another round of brouhaha when the vehicle just won’t start. But no worries, the good old hand-crank would come to the rescue. Some energetic turns by a brother or a strong man around the house and the vehicle would come to life. A collective sigh of relief and we’d be on our way.
Indeed, nothing quiet
or restful about those Sunday mornings, rather it was hectic and loud, a weekly
rush against time to get ready for church. But Sundays hold some of the best
memories of family time and togetherness.
After the morning
frenzy, the hour (much longer most Sundays) in church was always peaceful and
reviving. But that’s what the church experience is all about, isn’t it? As you
sit there with family and other worshippers, joining in the hymns and taking in
the readings and sermon (though some may drone on a little too long), you make
that crucial reconnection with your Creator and with your inner self.
With church over, we
would return home a quieter and mellower lot.
And then it was brunch
time……….
Sunday was always
family day – not something officially declared or enforced....it just was. We
worshipped together, cooked together, ate together and talked together.
It was on Sundays that
Mum or Dad would prepare their favourite childhood snacks that their own
parents had made for them – bright orange sun dried pumpkin simply boiled but lip
smacking good, sticky rice with black millet and ginger (tachü), boiled sweet
potatoes and various types of galho. During corn season, there was roasted
corn, boiled corn, fried corn, sticky rice and corn and corn with black millet
and ginger. Sometimes we would try our hand at some Indian fare like puri and
bhaji.
There was story
telling as well as lively arguments at times. There was laughter, fun, song and
even sulks. We listened and shared. Sometimes relatives or friends would drop
in which meant another round of tea and snacks and some fresh conversation.
Beautiful times,
beautiful memories! And it kept our family close and our ties strong. It kept
us connected and together through the ups and downs of life.
But it was not only
our family. Back then, families spent time together…they actually talked and
did things together.
Sadly, this is no
longer the case with many families today. There are so many other things going
on and so much distraction with work, TV, computer and mobile phones that families
no longer seem to find time for each other. They practically live separate
lives, uninvolved and doing their own thing. There is no real interaction
anymore.
This disconnect is
perhaps the reason why our society is becoming so soulless and going so wrong.
Strong families make strong communities. When families spend time together and
talk to one another, values and standards that all families subscribe to are
reinforced and these serve as our guideposts for operating in the wider world.
Family time……there is
no wiser investment one can make. It creates beautiful memories, keeps
you grounded and connected and your bonds strong which in turn make a stronger,
healthier and more positive society.