Waiting for the New Year

It’s a cold night at Delhi and as usual I am at the airport. I perhaps could have stayed back for the night and met a few friends but that just didn’t feel right. Somehow, winters have always been Calcuttan to me. Even during my Pilani days, Christmas and New Year would be in Cal. Not that I would do much there but still it felt so very Christmas-y if you know what I mean. Even in Bangalore it was chilly. And I was the Santa. Mumbai just doesn’t have it in terms of a lovely winter.

I think I have this extremely sad habit of falling in love with cities. I dislike Delhi as a city, there’s no doubt about that. But today as I stopped under the Moolchand Flyover to have the most delicious Aloo paranthas in the evening chill, I could not but help love the weather, the aroma and of course the food of Delhi. It has its beauty in other areas too. The way consumers tell me “Haanji Beta”, it feels so much at home. That typical sing song of the Delhi tongue enthrals me.

Just a few more hour before another year comes to an end. This year too the 31^st will be just like any other 31^st. At office till evening and then a nice cosy bed and a good book or maybe very close friends. But as I look back, I see how different the situations in reality are. Last December, as a trainee I was fighting for survival. Fighting to pick up the broken pieces of my ego and build a collage out of them. I was worried about what the New Year would bring.

It’s not that I know what 2009 will bring for me. But I feel more confident about facing it. I don’t know if I have got any better at what I do. Maybe the academic in me is swooning under corporate delivery pressure and the professional in me is loving the adrenalin rush of it all. However, what I do know is that I have become less of an intellectual snob. In 2007, fresh out of college, I considered myself one of the best in terms of laddering techniques. I stand humbled by Ms. Pammi of Pant Nagar, Rinadi of Bagha Jatin, Urvashi Ben of Ahmedabad and Santhi Amma of Mylapore. When I know what they actually want, I might get a little snobbish again. But that day is far far away.

My wardrobe slowly is seeing a shift. Pathetically boring shirts and T shirts are coming in. My Spiderman T shirts are on their way out. Women I meet actually pass sniggering comments on them. If only they knew, how tough it is to find a Floyd T shirt, a customized Spiderman T shirt or even a Calvin one. The campus clothes also are on the back foot. I really wish I had R again to help me choose clothes just like she did before Placements. But hers being one of the many weddings I missed this year, I am too afraid to ask her. The number of my unmarried friends is dwindling drastically. It may soon be the case that V and I remain the sole bachelors amongst all the people I know.

As I step into 2009, I realize once again that I love my work. Yes I sell Oil, soaps, soups to earn some money (and blow them up by being a regular customer of legally printed copies of books and a regular at movie theatres) but as long as I feel nice I really don’t care. The problem happens when I try to explain to people what I do for a living. My grand mom got extremely suspicious when she heard that my company actually pays for my flight tickets so that I can go and speak to middle aged Indian homemakers. I am sure she still doesn’t believe me. After all she never liked the census guys getting into her kitchen and taking a tally of the number of LPG cylinders she had.

So 2008 is almost up. And surprisingly the flight is just a little delayed. The fog’s kind on me. In the misty mornings of Delhi, I suddenly realized that sometimes, however much we try; the old times never come back. The misty mornings (and evenings when the train was even more delayed) in Delhi once marked the beginning of a new term in college and the frantic search for a cab to deliver us and our luggage at the campus. Today, the misty mornings in Delhi just means delayed flights and flayed tempers.

But then Life goes on. And I must find a song for the New Year.