Last year, I started this newsletter because I was quite fascinated with the idea of my words making it to your e-mails. It may sound cliche, but a mere fascination got me into this. As far as I knew myself and my schedule, I had no idea I would continue doing this till the last month of the year. But it turned out that I didn't know myself that well.
This year, I am going to write for the love of writing. There are no fascinations, only love. Also, I am numbering my newsletters henceforth to keep their count. I hope you bear me and my words this year as well.
I am keeping no resolutions this year. Perhaps I am too old for this, too tired, or too awakened to know that we really do not need a date to change. These are all made-up marketing strategies to build consumerism. Maybe I am too pessimistic or too realistic.
A new date. A new month. A new year. Instagram stories and WhatsApp statuses were flooded with New Year vibes. Everyone was celebrating, and so should we. But I didn't feel anything new. Not as yet.
This year feels old—like a friend who has always been there in the same city but is visiting my home now. I was doing last year’s duty on my new year's first day. How is that supposed to make me feel new? My patients on ventilator support have been there since. Has the time changed for them and their families with a new year? If the timing of our lives is different, then how are we all supposed to find a new beginning on the same day? The New Year is nothing but a structured time reference for beginnings. It is a social concept made for the world to work in alignment. Not for individuals. We are not robots or rats, we are humans. We are supposed to feel things first.
There is a famous poem, “Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang,” by the famous poet- Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Now, I know it was never about love. It was never for his lover. It was about the pain and suffering the world has. The dilemma of a soul that feels love and knows pain. Perhaps I am too pessimistic. But the past few years have taught me to accept the truth. To be in reality. Often, truth is seen as the enemy of happiness, but I think it is so important to shun this belief. The happiness stays adhering to the truth. A lie is a bubble, and if we cling to our happiness to a lie, the bubble will burst, taking our happiness all along. Perhaps I am too lost now.
Here is a beautiful narration of this poem:
Will write to you soon!
Aakanksha.