Inspite of it all

 Sundays, for me, usually begin with the promise of a slow, unhurried day—a day where time feels like it belongs to me. But today, that illusion dissolved with the sharp ring of my phone. Half-asleep and a little hopeful, I thought it might be someone else—a voice I wouldn’t mind waking up to—but no, it was work calling.

The first call was easy to dismiss. The second tugged at my sense of duty. By the third, it was clear—I had no choice but to get up and face the day, not on my terms but on someone else’s. It’s funny how often life feels like this—a series of decisions already made for us. And yet, within these constraints, we search for slivers of choice, tiny acts of defiance that remind us we still have agency, however small.

By 9 AM, I was ready to leave, but not without making a choice of my own. I traded my usual work attire for a pair of jeans and a hoodie—a quiet statement, a whisper of rebellion. I know that the day is not going to be as I would like, but as I glance at my reflection before stepping out, I think to myself, I look good. Maybe that’s enough for now.

It’s these little steps, these seemingly insignificant decisions, that keep us tethered to the idea of freedom in a world where free will often feels like a mirage. We live in worlds governed by obligations and expectations, but the small liberties we carve out—how we dress, what we say, how we interpret our circumstances—become acts of resistance. Me writing this piece after going through all the reports and making all the calls adds to the agency I hold in my life. The ability to reflect, to claim these moments for myself, makes all the difference.

And so, my Sunday began—not as I had planned, but as a day where I could still hold onto the fragments of choice that make life feel, if only fleetingly, like mine.

It's fine, as my Captain America hoodie says-