And then God invented Sundays.
The day of the Sabbath.
The day of celebrating the art of doing nothing.
When lazing around aimlessly is not scorned upon.
When an idle brain is not ridiculed as a devils workshop.
When all morning you can cuddle up with a Calvin and Hobbes and laugh aloud.
Or try the Hindu cryptic crossword. Just as your grandfather would have done sixty years back.
Or pick a book and read those poems you loved as a starry-eyed teen.
Or listen to Joan Baez.
Lynyrd Skynyrd, may be ?
Or stare listlessly at wispy cirrus clouds floating on the canvass of the pastel blue sky.
When breakfast is steaming hot radhaballavis with delectable aloor dom.
Or may be sinful savory egg bread.
Washed down with endless cups of sweetened milk tea.
And lunch is murgir jhol and rice. As has been for all the growing up years.
This is my mother’s recipe for the Sunday murgir jhol.
Earthy. Yet finger-licking delicious.
Packed with loads of flavor.
And of course, a mother’s love.
And if you are looking for a wee bit of variety in that everyday chicken curry, try Monika’s Punjabi style Pressure Cooker Chicken curry.
Unpretentious, yet delectable.