One of the many wasted Sundays that I have lived in my life. I regret them, but just can’t get rid of them.
The plan was to start early; I woke up at three in the afternoon. The task was to finish my eTABS model; I spent hours browsing my photos and cleaning my hard-drive.
This means that I shall have to play catch-up from Monday morning till Friday afternoon. Then the weekend holidays to chill off, and the same cycle all over again.
Just an hour of studying today, and that too was triggered by Ali. We worked on Structural analysis; solved two numericals using the Conjugate beam method. I felt elevated; Ali confused.
Ali left. I started working on my garden: twenty nine plants. It’s like having twenty nine kids, and being a single parent. Yes I do love them all, but I have to show this love to them consistently, otherwise, they retaliate: shedding leaves, terminating life.
Only thirty percent of my lawn is covered with grass. The rest is dead brown. The grass dried out last year, and hasn’t grown since. So today, I planted 3% more grass. Lets see if I complete my Bachelors degree first, or the garden becomes completely green earlier. Sixty seven percent more to grow.
The guests, which were expected at six in the evening, arrived. I kept working on my garden till sunset.
Unexpected guests arrived as well: my grandma, uncle, his wife, and their kids. The kids see me once a year, but somehow like me a lot. Don’t know how this is possible, maybe because I love them too, and they can see that in my eyes. We prayed together at the mosque. Mahlel couldn’t get her shoe back after prayers. It was a tight fit, say size 4 for a size 5 foot. Even I couldn’t force it in. So she was bare foot back home, her shoes in her hand.
The expected guest, Mr. Abdul Qadir requested in his friendly tone, “My last wish: a cup of tea.”
I was in the kitchen, making tea for ten people. Ten spoons of dried milk, two and a half spoons of sugar, and 6 spoons of tea. Every body loved the tea. Uncle Abdul Qadir was astonished that it was me who made this wonderful tea.
Of all dad’s friends, I like Uncle Abdul Qadir the most, and that’s not because he liked my tea. Its because he is a nice man. A simple man.
Then I talked with Zunaira. Told her about today’s routine, in Arificial routine style. The four month old loved the story. Giggled, moved her arms left and right, and kept staring in awe. She can’t speak, has no teeth, and can’t sit up on her own. So Zunaira was returned to her mother. I was tired looking after her.
All guests had left, except my grandmother. She would stay with us for a few weeks.
I left for the computer, looking at my pictures, changing my facebook avatar, and clearing my hard drive.
Its two hours past midnight now. Before bed, I have to study for at least an hour.
AboutArif Samoon is a Junior Design Engineer at Techno Consult International. He completed his Bachelors in Urban and infrastructure engineering, from NED University in 2011. He loves his digital presence. Loves to code, write, and design.