As the stories flow along with endless cups of coffee, a lazy brunch morphs into a late lunch of pizza, dumplings and whatever else the refrigerator regurgitates. The banter flows, wedding plans are discussed, old friends remembered. And soon the dying sun hurries us along…what a damp squib? We are all grown up now with all manner of grown up things to do...papers have to be graded, game nights have to be attended and then there are those scheduled monthly hair cuts.
A long time ago, weekend mornings meant waking up at 11 AM, showering, walking over to the main gate for the newspaper (Was TOI ever that?) and waiting in line for the mess doors to open. The Sunday french fries with Contadina and the matar paneer were really worth the wait. And then there was the sweet, sweet satisfaction of a nap under the rajai in winter (with socks on), preferably with a friend, after a thorough discussion of all the gossip in the TOI Sunday edition with wingies. Summer afternoons never lent themselves to such delicious lethargy...ever.
I later found out that the napping-with-a-friend part was something the guys balked at; ditto for sharing clothes, jewellery and intimate details of a date. Thank God women did not have such hang ups or else we would not survive our drafty rooms with no concept of central heating (in sub zero winters) or the lousy dates or the shocking I-have-nothing-to-wear discovery before a date.