For some people, its Monday everyday.

All these years I never gave a thought to the fact that millions of people wake up early every morning of their lives, get ready and work till evening. For me sleeping till afternoon, was something I took for granted.
Suddenly, something dawned on me a couple of months back and I decided to take on a summer internship, and realized that sadly or not (not that I had a choice anymore) I was now one of those millions. Waking up at eight, getting ready (who gets ready before 2 PM?) and rushing off to a dull place with nobody you really know and especially where there are no cute guys became like torture (I know this so contradicts to my previous post!).I have got to be jinxed or something you know? Girls convent, girls boarding school, a workplace where you're colleagues are old, ugly or married! Anyway, getting back to the point, i waited desperately for those two heavenly days in the week, that Saturday and Sunday when I could put on my AC and sleep till I wanted to and bathe when I felt like. Watch movies, and most of all just be lazy.So, it was one of those Fridays when I was coming back from work in an auto, making a mental note as to which show I could see for Badmaash Company and cribbing to the autowallah about the trafficjam, when I saw something that I'll probably never forget.

Very close to where I stay, there stood an old man, frail and hunch backed digging with on the side of the road in the scorching heat. Just beside him were two children passing on to him a large vessel of cement, each of them carrying the vessels on their heads as the sun sweltered on their heads. Sweat dripping, arms trembling, covered in dust they walked towards that old man who was filling up the pit. A couple of rounds later they sat down in the mud and open their tiffin boxes. My auto moved forward in the jam. I looked back, to clearly see. Dry chappaatis, two raw onions and some red chillies. Their lunch. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, as they shared their food and smiled, even laughed while they talked about things that I couldnt't hear. For a while, I didn't understand, I was taken aback. Why were they smiling, I thought. I couldn't watch them in this suffering, and they were smiling? In spite of all of this? It was so hard to believe.

The whole time back home, I thought about what I saw. Sad, confused trying to find the answer to my questions. I lay on bed, half melancholic rememebering what I saw and half selfishly happy for the weekend I had to myself. It wasn't until much later when my thoughts cleared that that man and his kids were smiling inspite of - everything. Inspite of the back breaking strenous work and the unbearable heat, they still could find happiness. How shallow and ungrateful are we, having everything and still complaining over things that we don't have? That man and his children are happier and richer than I am. For them, everyday maybe a Monday with minimal stipend but yet they hardly seemed to have anything to whine about.
I think I had to see that to know and feel how lucky I am and how unlucky I thought I was. I wouldn't say that I love Mondays now but I more thankful that I have a good job and I have my weekends off!