Skip to main content

The end of the year post

I have this queer habit to clean up my files and wardrobes on the onset of every  new  year. As I flip through some old letters and my own handwritten notes, I am forced to recall old times which I would so love to forget but never will have the resolve too. So here I am writing the year end post while tearing old papers and drinking hot soup (Of course the music is also on at full volume and Atif Aslam is singing Doorie).

Mankind has passed through yet another year. Its time to get new calendars and to form a new habit of writing 13 in the date column instead of 12. Seriously, I almost confuse the years while writing dates at least the first two months of any new year.

Sitting atop dead bodies of my own over realistic ambitions and dreams, I look back at this year as a really eventful year. 2012 marked new lows and downfalls in career, relations and life. How I wish time could be like a whiteboard where we can write with all our colors and erase everything ugly spick and span.

The biggest high point was extension of family and forming of my own library. That is something huge. Financially the year was disappointing. And when finances nose dive so does friendships and relations. Another disappointment was not publishing my own book. But if I learned something from this year, it was to let go. It has never been very difficult for me to let go but this year the resolve only got stronger.

Any new year resolutions? No thank you. New Year resolutions are meant for fifth grade kids. But lets say publishing that book is still a priority. Nothing much. Just hoping for a smooth comfortable year without the ferocious bumps and bruises.

Wishing you all a very Happy new Year

Comments

shaista dhanda said…
Hey Tushar,I love reading your blog and I take this opportunity to thank you for being my motivational friend who made me start my own blog. Thank you and a happy new year. Love-shaista

Also read

Sex without intimacy: A Spill the Tea story about modern loneliness

Tara meets someone through a matrimony broker. They quickly decide marriage isn’t on the table, but spend a night together anyway. What follows isn’t regret or drama, but an unsettling emptiness. Over tea and samosas, she tries to understand why physical closeness left her feeling more alone than before. Spill the Tea: When Closeness leaves You Feeling Further away The tea was too sweet. Tara noticed it immediately but didn’t say anything. She sat on the verandah chair, one foot tucked under the other, the plastic creaking every time she shifted. She wore a black cotton top with sleeves pushed to her elbows and denim shorts that left her knees bare to the evening air. She didn’t look uncomfortable. Just slightly unfinished, as if she’d left in a hurry. Between us, a steel plate held two samosas, already cooling. The chutney had begun to darken at the edges. She broke a corner of the samosa. The crust flaked onto her plate. She dipped it into the chutney, carefully. “You know,” she said...

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Why does Mrs Dalloway still speak to you after a hundred years? A human reading of Virginia Woolf’s novel A reflective and thoughtful review of Mrs Dalloway that explores why Virginia Woolf’s modernist classic continues to resonate. From memory and mental health to love, regret, and time, this article examines characters, themes, context, and craft while questioning whether the novel still challenges and comforts today’s reader. Why does a novel about one ordinary day linger in your mind for years? This long form review of Mrs Dalloway explores through its quiet power. You will find analysis, critique, history, and personal reflection on why this book continues to unsettle and comfort readers alike. Can a single ordinary day hold an entire life? Have you ever reached the end of a day and wondered where it went, and more unsettlingly, where you went within it? That question sits at the heart of Mrs Dalloway , Virginia Woolf’s 1925 novel that dares to suggest that the smallest moment...

Cutting people off isn’t strength—It is a trauma response

Your ability to cut people off and self-isolate is not a skill you should be proud of—It is a trauma response Cutting people off and self-isolating may feel like a protective shield, but it is often rooted in unresolved or unhealed trauma and an inability to depend on others. While these behaviors seem like self-preservation, they end up reinforcing isolation and blocking meaningful connections. Confronting these patterns, seeking therapy, and nurturing supportive relationships can help break this unhealthy cycle. Plus, a simple act like planting a jasmine plant can symbolise the start of your journey towards emotional healing. Why do we cut people off and isolate? If you’re someone who prides themselves on “cutting people off” or keeping a tight circle, you might believe it’s a skill—a way to protect yourself from betrayal, hurt, or unnecessary drama. I get it. I’ve been there, too. But here’s the thing: this ability to isolate yourself is not as empowering as it may seem. In fact, i...