Working on a Sunday

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Part I

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I am on a sabbatical these days, you know - the one wherein you sit at home and attempt to do nothing at all. Of course, that hardly ever happens in the true sense of the term - at least in India. You see, India may be a free country - give or take a few contemptuous laws - but one of its citizens, who happens to be my darling aunt Geraldine, does know how to dash that notion into an eye-opening masala of sorts.

I have been staying with Aunt Geraldine for a while these days. She has an opinion on every subject remotely associated with morals, and she ensures you know you'll rot in Hell should you so much as contradict her with your silent disapproval. 

It should come as no surprise then that Aunt Geraldine thinks it's absolutely scandalous to go against the law. In fact, she thinks it's rather rebellious to go against any thing that even appears to be the law! Needless to say then, my decision to quit and stay at home was considered to be a tawdry wanton act of sacrilege. 

"So you're going to quit this job of yours eh?" 

We were all in the hall. My elbow had made itself comfortable on the glass dining table. And Aunt Geraldine had made herself comfortable on a plastic chair that always resided in the vicinity of the television. 

"Yes, Aunty. I think I have already made that decision."
"Why?"
"Well, because it's high time I do." 
"Yes yes that I understand, but why?"

"Which part of it did you not understand? My sitting at home or my leaving the job? Clearly both mean the same to you!"
"Your sitting at home," she clarified, "I don't see why you have to."

That was my cue. That was also a warning for the thunderstorm that was to follow. I straightened up in my chair and brush aside the crumbs of the bread I had for breakfast.

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Part II

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"Well, Aunty,"I said as I scrutinized the mess on the table, "I am leaving my job AND sitting at home because I want to."
"But why? Do you know it's a sin to be idle?"
"I think I'm aware of that. It's been on my list of things to do for a while."
"You talk too much! No wonder you cannot agree with anyone."

Well, I admit I rarely get along with nonsense. Consequently, I have hardly ever considered lunching with people who come dressed in nonsense. But Aunt Geraldine wasn't talking about those people at all. 

So "Well," I said slowly, allowing my tongue to keep up with the thought in my head, "I don't see what my sitting at home has to do with getting along with people."
"I am not saying that," she explained, "what I'm saying is it's not good."
"What? Sitting at home?"
"Yes." And then she went on to make a big mistake: She quoted scripture.

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Part III

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"How long will you lie there O sluggard!*," she intonated with the air of one officiating over an exorcism, "When oh when will you arise from your sleep?* Poverty will come in like a vagabond!**" 
"Don't be ridiculous, Aunty! I don't sleep the whole day!"
"I don't mean it literally!"
"Well then what do you mean?"
"One must have ambition." she explained, "That's what I meant. That's what the Bible meant!"

I countered that with: "Well, the Bible also says we must let go of our ambition." 
"Don't talk rubbish!" she snapped, "What about the parable of the ten talents? To whom much is given much shall be asked in return."

"Well, Aunty, I feel burnt out for sure. And needless to say so are my talents. So I don't have anything to give in return."

That particular parable - about the ten talents - and the others have always been difficult to interpret: The apostles themselves had to ask the Lord to furnish an explanation for some of them. But Aunt Geraldine was quite content with the one she had heard the pastor come up with way back in the 1950s. She never entertained any other interpretation thereafter, and she was definitely far from ecstatic about the way I had given a makeover to that parable.    

"You just want to act smart!" she said when she found a way to let go of her indignation and talk, "You just love to act smart!"
"Well, what else do you expect me to say then?"

That was ignored. She began to tell me about 'her days' instead.

*Proverbs 6:9
**The initial text of Proverbs 6:11

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Part IV

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"In my days," she said, her tone anything but hush, "we had no option. We just had to keep working." 
"Well Aunt Geraldine, I have an option! And I am making use of it. I-"
"And we never ever questioned authority."
"Yes, but I don't think you had to face nonsense in the form of authority!"
"We did! But we never challenged authority!"
"Aunty, the Bible says we have to be honest and true!" 

"But the Bible also says one must not challenge authority!"
"So you mean to say I should be dishonest and not tell the authorities that what they are talking is nonsense? That constitutes lying! Now don't tell me the Bible says I can lie!"
"At times, one has to tell white lies, "came the solemn explanation clothed in a tone of piety, "One can't help it!" 
"Aunty, a lie is a lie - white or black! What happened to being true to one's self then?"

"Well it's a cross you know," she said as if she were dispensing advice at the confessional, "We all have to carry one."
"Oh no no no! I don't believe that Aunty! That isn't my cross and I refuse to carry it as well. I don't believe in all that!"
"No wonder you can't agree with anybody!"
"Just because I don't want to carry a cross? What are you saying, Aunty? You're not making sense. Don't you see-"

But apparently, Aunt Geraldine had heard enough of my version of the Catholic faith for the day. She was on her feet and it was very obvious she was not about to give praise to my sermonizing. She held her right palm up and "Please!" she thundered with all the cool resolve of a mother abbess,"Please! I don't want to argue with you. You just don't want to listen!" And she walked into her room. 

I was about to say: "Look who's talking!" but I didn't. 

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Part V

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It was too much of work for a Sabbath. I could sense the familiar rumbles of anxiety and annoyance swallowing me as I was thinking of what to say next. Peace was quivering in a corner I had sent it to with all my barking. And I was not happy with the state in which that whole round of bilateral talks had left me. 

I took hold of the rag next to my plate and cleant the table. I arrested all the crumbs that had gone into hiding at the base of my tea bowl and dusted them into my plate. The plate did not make a very interesting sight. It did not conform to the vision I had in mind. 

So, I gathered the bowl, the plate and everything else - the way a governess collects toys when the children have been put to bed - washed the lot and freed the latch of my bedroom door into the keeper.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. However, you are encouraged to find coincidental resemblances to actual events wherever you can.