As the heat waves gave way to breezy rises, the dreaded wrath of the sun was seen smiling as it shone its glorious warmth on a bright sunny afternoon. In a rare bliss of a serene stroll by the park midafternoon, the shady, aged trees fanned their branches off. The weather said it all; December had arrived, and the winds had changed the course of the city into a balmy winter.
The city with its predominantly prevailing abominable summer seemed all of a sudden inviting, as the afternoons became wintry and the nights pleasantly cold. While the four-walled interiors of the home environment started to go warmer, the weather outside painted colder temperatures. The absence of an air conditioner, the switching on of water geysers (for however short a duration), dry skin beckoning its owners to moisturize and, most significantly, the friendly greeting of the weather to step out than staying indoors, lifted the December mood. I had never felt more at home than at this time of the season; the affirmative weather conditions seemed to give way to the buzz of seasonal festivities. As the month progressed, so did the amorphously structured weather conditions. The upbeat climate brought with it a lot of hopes and forward-looking belongings, all capped with constructive vibes.
All too soon, Christmas was in the air. The chilly dusk of Christmas Eve seemed to celebrate too, as the air rented with carols. I was more than looking forward to the Dawn of Newness, not merely in perspective of the weather conditions, but also for the reason, of great pomp and show; I have been a firm believer of the self-painted myth that every year must be welcomed with a Bam, Boom and POW! It could be in any which ways – in a place away from residential grounds, a simple drive-down, or a house party. Unpretentious Fact: The thirty-first evening absolutely cannot pass through uncelebrated.
As Christmas gradually progressed into the last week of December, there was a decremented lull around me. The number of emails in my inbox to the number of people I saw consequently decreased my enthusiasm at work and all else possible, but for my energy levels. To cap it all, my dear better half had to work on the thirty-first! However, the constant planning and strategizing kept its stream on. Finally, we settled for a quiet night of music with thirst-quenchers alongside. I felt the first pangs of welcoming yet another year; yet something was amiss. I wanted to welcome the New Year, and was all set for it. Yet, it wasn’t there. What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I feeling the pre-ordained buzz? A plan was in place, we had everything in hands that we wanted to celebrate with, then why didn’t I feel excited?
A combination of some soul searching and putting my brains to work yielded the only logical inference I could draw upon: I wasn’t as enthused by the idea of welcoming the New Year as every year with pomp and show. No, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to celebrate; it just felt like yet another night of beverage-downing. I could clearly sense the definite low point of the energy levels. I might have panicked at some point in time for after a while, I started self-creating the buzz, yet nope. Absolutely zero arousal! For the fear of trying too much and ruining the night, I finally decided to let go in the flow.
Fire crackers at the stroke of twelve, one of my favorite songs in the background, better half by my side and some home-cooked dinner – need I have asked for more? Strangely though, I didn’t find my stimulant hormones perking up even a pint throughout the evening. Yes, we did welcome the New Year in our (should I say, newfangled) way, no doubts. All in all, should I find that weird or is that’s what’s referred to as the process of growing up?