WEEKENDS

Long weekend - I first heard this almost as soon as I landed in Philly. The Labor Day Long weekend was coming up. I pondered about what that could mean for a while, could not think of anything except the outlandish, and decided to ask my new roommate. "Oh! It's a weekend of 3 days- Monday a holiday as well," she explained. So it was just a Monday holiday!

The thing we prayed for every year- the thing we looked up in December when Appa's complimentary calendars started arriving. We longed for the red letter date next to the red letter date for Sunday, and hoped and prayed that Diwali, or Vinayaga Chaturthi, or Pongal didn't fall on a "natural" red letter day. Of course, we were disappointed about once in two or three years, and on the average, the festivals usually evened out, but we still kept looking every year.

Somehow knowing when the Monday holidays would be for the next however many years you care to know about doesn't seem so appealing. The joy of suddenly having a Thursday off for New Year, or a Bakrid Tuesday is somehow more alluring than the security of assured 3 day weekends thrice a year. But then, weekends never mean anything much back home. You know that right away, even when you visit.

Most offices work Saturdays anyways, and though they tell you it's a half day, you pretty much know right away that that means that it's actually 5 pm, only they will never admit to that.

The day starts with my looking for the newspaper, but of course the newspaper goes strictly by seniority, and by the time it reaches me, I no longer want it, cos all the puzzles are marked by evil siblings anyways. I keep telling my father that I cannot understand the Sunday magazine, it's too complicated, so they have to change to a more readable magazine that does not deal with terrorism in Uganda or moans the loss of natural habitat in Burundi, but rather talks about some gossip and interesting news. My father looks at me like I'm the monkey in the zoo that just asked for more rights!

After about 9 am, mom can be located in front of the TV. Mom is now hooked to the TV, and she has replaced the clock with her very own time zone- the MST or Mega Serial Time. She knows the time by the number of the break on the mega serial that's currently on, right down to the number of the ad.

Consequently, she wants the time told to her in MST, but if you don't quite understand it, she has a mind of a Ramanujam to figure it out. Only try asking her to learn how to send email, and she has a lost look on her face. "It's so complicated," she says.

During the 10 am lunch, where she has dispensed with the hot idli breakfast ("You all hated it so much anyways, why are you complaining now?") and has preponed the noon lunch, there is discussion about the lives of other people. "You know, Sita had no right to ask her sister-in-law to get out". "But then, she asked for it, she had no right to poison her husband's mind against her too." "Shiva was anyway having an affair, and perhaps it's best for Sita to get away, you know." My interest piques. I suddenly feel hip! All these affairs and scandals among people we knew? We are becoming part of the elite! The most I used to hear were lists of people whose kids were having a "love marriage".

The final verdict is dad's- "We'll just to wait and see tomorrow, but knowing them, they'll probably stop right before telling us anything." Duh! Of course!

Right after lunch, we sit down for more TV, and within 5 minutes, all of us are sleeping. Except mom, of course. I'm sure she giggles with glee every time she sees us doze off- "The sleeping pills are working," I can hear her thinking!

The evening is whenever we wake up, and after a hot cup of coffee, we play the "What can we have for tiffin" game. Where my mom rejects everything that takes more time to make than the time remaining for the evening movie- and she tries to talk slowly and painfully to exclude the possibility of her making tiffin.

Upma, my sister says. My mom thinks(20 mins more for the movie) You know, with Upma, it's quite funny. Because sometimes the vegetables are not exactly right (15 mins), and then if the rava is also not quite done, then it becomes a real problem(10 mins). But wait let's ask Appa. She goes looking for Appa (5 mins). And then, she's sure no item can be made in 5 mins, and so she announces- "Oh! no! The movie's gonna start any time now. Why don't you make whatever you want?" My sister: I think I'd like some matricide!

Somedays though, the movie is really bad, and she makes something really great- like Pakodas. So she can get away with referring to the Pakodas for another 5 years!

Anyways, after the bad movie and the great tiffin, dinner is in relative silence, the conversation mainly started by one person who suspects the morning’s curry has by now, gone bad. Tasting follows by each member, each announcing his/ her take on the allegation. While my mom’s verdict is always that it has NOT gone bad, everyone just leaves the curry in the corner of their plates, oblivious to mom’s glares. Mom has herself, of course, not served herself even a bit, taking the “woman sacrificing the curry for the family” image.

Sleep follows till the next day, which is a working day already! Yeah, weekends never mean anything much back home.