Chandigarh, September 28: Sundays arrive like a pause button in the week, a chance to step off the treadmill of deadlines and errands. They carry a softer rhythm, one that doesn’t demand alarms or rushing out of the door. If weekdays are for schedules, Sundays are for savoring—whether it’s a late morning stretch, a steaming cup of tea, or the meditative act of watering plants.
By the time late morning drifts in, Sunday allows you the luxury of staying a little longer in bed. The sun peeks through the curtains, not as an intruder but as a gentle reminder that the day is yours. A late breakfast—or even brunch—becomes an indulgence. You can linger over toast, fruits, or even a homemade favorite that weekdays never allow time for. The key is unhurriedness: let the meal stretch, let conversation wander, let music play softly in the background.
Afternoons carry their own stillness. This is the perfect time to sink into a book, catch up on a film, or even take a nap without guilt. The hum of a ceiling fan or the breeze at the window seems to fold the hours into a kind of cocoon. A Sunday afternoon doesn’t insist on productivity; it simply asks you to be present.
As the sun bends toward evening, tea becomes the centerpiece. Whether poured into a porcelain cup or sipped from a clay kulhad, tea on a Sunday feels different. It’s less about the caffeine and more about the ritual: the curling steam, the pause between sips, the conversations that unfold. With tea, snacks follow—perhaps pakoras, biscuits, or whatever comfort food is at hand. This is when the day feels richest: slow laughter, long silences, and the warm weight of time well spent.
And then, the garden calls—or even the few potted plants on a balcony. Watering plants in the cool of the evening is more than a chore; it’s a grounding act. As the soil darkens and leaves glisten, you feel a small connection to something larger, a reminder that care and patience give life. The act itself is calming, almost meditative, and as the sky shifts to twilight, it prepares you gently for the week ahead.
Sundays, when spent this way, aren’t about extravagant outings or elaborate plans. They are about small rituals—sleeping in, sipping slowly, tending to life around you. They teach us that rest isn’t wasted time; it’s a form of renewal. By the end of the day, when night settles in, you’re not just ready for Monday—you’re quietly grateful for the Sunday that gave you back to yourself.
