Sunday — 22 Shawwal 1425 — 14 Agrahayana 1926 — 05 December 2004
So, I started a new ritual today. Not that I dont have enough of those already. With the Monday night chicken dance festival, the Saturday evening self sacrifice service for the drunk brigade and the Thursday evening crazy public jumping activity and a few others that I prefer not to narrate here. The only thing left was Sunday morning.
Now, I am sure we all agree that there is no such thing as a Sunday morning. There is a Saturday evening, that grows into a Saturday late evening, that grows into a Saturday night, that grows into (ok, ok, I will stop with this series, I promise this is the last part) Saturday late night and that grows into (sorry I lied back there, this one is really the last one) Sunday afternoon.
So you might ask – where does the Sunday morning go? The answer is simple. It is the part where you are dreaming about overly ugly hobgoblins and extremely effeminate looking elves (who by the way are on your team) fighting in a major war in Rohan (From Tolkein). At the end of which all the hobgoblins are killed and the elves and you have a huge party. Then when you wake up (in your dream) from that party with a hangover you wake up in real life at 1427 (2:27PM) on a Sunday with a feeling of nausea and drowsiness.
So, getting back to the actual issue, I got up at approximately 0900 and I walked to the nearest part, which happens to be a small island in the middle of a major road here in Karachi, with a book. The road was empty, it being a Sunday and all. I enjoyed my park thing a lot. I am going to make it a regular ritual.