To yet another trip around the sun

Very recently, we were in the last week of 2016 — also called the gawd-please-make-this-crappy-year-go phase in the life of most millennials. I find it amusing that seemingly logical humans would think that an artificially demarcated time slab will be magically better than the last such slab. But I will leave this topic for another day. So, Happy New Year!

Every turn of the year brings in two rituals — the first one being enquiring about everyone’s new year eve’s plans. Going to a New year event in a restaurant / resort is basically an annoyingly noisy and ridiculously expensive way to do what you do every weekend, commonly referred to as ‘nothing much, chilling’. A lot of us, thus, find the only alternative new year plan — a house party with close friend. Which is actually what we do every other weekend. But in as much as it prevents an unfavourable judgement on one’s social life, it works well.

The second ritual is about having new year resolution(s). This one is way trickier to get out of because it is a promise that is tested over the next 365 days. The worst part is that excuses don’t really work, mostly because standing in the mirror and selling an excuse to yourself is awkward. Easy resolutions are little fun. And tough resolutions are almost impossible to fulfil. So, there is a 99% chance of ending up with disappointment where resolutions are involved. Yet, they exist.

Last year, I began the year by resolving to read 24 books in 12 months, egged on by the Goodreads challenge. I urged myself not to cheat and picked up books I wanted to read even if they were voluminous. I fell horribly short of the target but was genuinely delighted by the relatively higher amount of good literature I ended up reading. Unfazed, I upped the bar this year and have vowed to publish a blog-post a week along with the 24 books I intend to read. The words bhishma pratigya (terrible oath) come to mind.

For perspective, I have published ~12–13 posts in all of last year here (and here). So the target is daunting, especially in times when vitriolic rants on my FB feed have convinced me to avoid commentary on any political / nationalistic event. I have tried to seek refuge in humour but, to be honest, I fear if I would end up offending some section of my acquaintances with that too.

Writing, however, has always enamoured me.

I write to be read. And I find it very hard to believe writers who say otherwise. I find it amusing when people differentiate between the literary and the performing arts. For me, a piece of writing or poetry is a performance- with words for props. A bad dance or music performance can be quickly forgotten but the misery of a badly written piece hangs on a (web)page for eternity.

Having said that, writing is a wonderful form of catharsis. Sitting down and typing away at my keyboard has seen me through both cheerful Sunday afternoons and rather lonely Friday nights, and both euphoric moments and the intermittent periods of gloom. Those who know me know that numbers excite me. But the shape of letters comforts me like nothing else.

Writing has often also provided my mind with clarity when the train of thoughts was running amok. Writing has helped me stow away events and trips I wanted to remember when the memories started to ebb away. My blog(s), that way, have been a veritable penseive wherein I can plunge and meet myself from a few years ago.

Thanks to my work schedule, I have barely managed to keep my post-a-week resolution intact in the first week of the year itself. But even starting off with this rather nondescript first post makes me think that sometimes forcing yourself to do something that you actually love anyway is not just good, but necessary.

Here’s to a cheerful and exciting 2017!