26 March 2010
Once upon a time, I was a bachelor and my weekends were my own! But that was eons ago. I now have a wife and two grown-up daughters and my bachelor days are a distant but wonderful memory.
Now I am balding, graying, slightly paunchy and spend my time singing: ‘Those were the days, my friend’. The optimist that I am though, I anticipate weekends like a kid anticipates candy — only I don’t drool. My weekends begin on Thursday with a longer than usual jog. I return, weigh myself and see there’s no change — life is not fair. Fridays are for heavy breakfasts, heavier lunches and lazing around with KT. In between, I strum my guitar, doze, upload music and try to be a good father and husband. My wife has a very big family in the UAE, so they pop in on the weekend in ones, twos and fours. When they do so all together, I know it’s either Christmas or Easter. Fridays are also for phone calls to my mother in India, a stubborn lady if there ever was one, but that’s another story. Saturdays see me wake early, hoping for a miracle — maybe a lottery or a windfall. Till then, I must spend Saturdays the married way: going to church (or making excuses why I can’t), pushing a trolley at the hypermarket, or looking interested as my wife and her sister discuss mundane topics like Simon Cowell’s sloppy dress sense, the fat women who sunbathe near the pool or the new perfume which costs a bomb. All weekends are not this dull, some are worse. Ok, wait a minute — some are better too!
Once upon a time, I was a bachelor and my weekends were my own! But that was eons ago. I now have a wife and two grown-up daughters and my bachelor days are a distant but wonderful memory.
Now I am balding, graying, slightly paunchy and spend my time singing: ‘Those were the days, my friend’. The optimist that I am though, I anticipate weekends like a kid anticipates candy — only I don’t drool. My weekends begin on Thursday with a longer than usual jog. I return, weigh myself and see there’s no change — life is not fair. Fridays are for heavy breakfasts, heavier lunches and lazing around with KT. In between, I strum my guitar, doze, upload music and try to be a good father and husband. My wife has a very big family in the UAE, so they pop in on the weekend in ones, twos and fours. When they do so all together, I know it’s either Christmas or Easter. Fridays are also for phone calls to my mother in India, a stubborn lady if there ever was one, but that’s another story. Saturdays see me wake early, hoping for a miracle — maybe a lottery or a windfall. Till then, I must spend Saturdays the married way: going to church (or making excuses why I can’t), pushing a trolley at the hypermarket, or looking interested as my wife and her sister discuss mundane topics like Simon Cowell’s sloppy dress sense, the fat women who sunbathe near the pool or the new perfume which costs a bomb. All weekends are not this dull, some are worse. Ok, wait a minute — some are better too!
Michael Guzder, Dubai
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