The very sound of Saturday is sweet.
Before I learned that my favorite day of the week had something to do with the sixth planet from the sun, I had my own childish views about the word Saturday. To my 3-year young mind it suggested that for all these days I had actually been standing (standing, to my mind, always symbolized punishment) but come Saturday, I could actually let go and sit.
Ah, the blessed comfort of Sat-urday!
Saturdays have a special aura. Even the sun appears more golden on Saturdays! Sunflowers appeared fuller and yellower, and butterflies emerged out in larger numbers. Mom would take me on outings on such mornings - to a friend's place at Kemp's Corner, to the bank to get some money work done (even the bank staff looked radiant working on a Saturday), or to the dog shows at Cooperage Gardens.
Saturday afternoons means a delightful lunch followed by a carefree siesta. Even the breeze picks up on Saturdays' afternoons, making the fronds of the neighboring coconut palms rustle and chuckle.
Saturday evenings are special too, because it meant going out with mom and dad. A family visit to the Museum music store to pick up new music there, or to just a quiet sit on the rocks at Marine Drive, watching the Saturday sun set over the Arabian Sea.
Sundays have stings. Saturdays have no such things. Sunday night would always be filled with the dread of returning to school on Monday, but no Saturday night ever placed such a burden on me. On the contrary, Saturday nights command me that I enjoy them beyond limits! They are ever reassuring that no matter how long I stay up, I could always count on that special Wake-up-Late pact it had with Sunday.
Saturday nights were intensely favored for community events in Cusrow Baug, the residential colony in South Mumbai where in I live. I remember the fashion shows and the live musical evenings they used to organize at the Cusrow Baug Pavilion when I was little. We used to dance and dine into the star-cast Saturday night, in the same style the Gauls of Asterix fame would, typically marking the close of each one of their adventures.
It was only when I was 14 that I learned that even God proceeded to rest on a Saturday, making it blessed. It made sense!