New Years Eve..

New Years Eve …
For whom the Bell Tolls
Lets be rational - Its just another day in the year .

But there is something about New Years Eve that gets my eyes popping, heart racing and entire ganglions going nggggggg in a straight line. I am quite convinced that I have to give an account to someone upon high , and state name , age , qualifications, in addition to a quick but thorough summary of what I have achieved in the last 365 days. I can hardly say I washed the dishes , and watched American Idol .

New Year's eve is like every other night; there is no pause in the march of the universe, no breathless moment of silence among created things that the passage of another twelve months may be noted; and yet no person has quite the same thoughts this evening that come with the coming of darkness on other nights. ~Hamilton Wright Mabie

I admit it . New Years Eve makes me frantic.

Teetering as I am on the fine line between today’s report card results , and getting ready for the next grade , I have enough time to nervously gulp and swallow, and figure out whether I have saved the world as yet or not . Turns out I missed out by a whisker on that one. So that’s still on my check list , I am afraid .

Friends take pains to avoid me, picking up their skirts in a marked manner and quickly swishing past before I accost them with an impassioned eulogy on the Meaning Of Life. At my second querulous iteration of " But WHAT are We doing here ", or ‘Who am I really ?’ , ( while firmly holding a Frank Kafka book ) , some run off to the nearest restroom, holding sal volatile to their nose . Some gift me with a plaster reproduction of Rodin’s Thinker , in the hope that I would focus my energies on the statuette , and understand that if indeed the pained expression on his face came from thinking , it was clearly better to suffer indigestion instead . Others assure me that the adage " I think, therefore I am ‘ was not meant to be taken literally by me , and I could now go and lie down, and give my tiny but overworked tired brain a rest .

I understand completely why people madly party to drown out the sounds of a quietly dying old year , and the promise to a young , yet untested new year . Charles Lamb , in his eponymous essay on New Years Eve captures the sentiments beautifully :
EVERY man hath two birth-days; two days, at least, in every year, which set him upon revolving the lapse of time, as it affects his mortal duration. The one is that which in an especial manner he termeth his. In the gradual desuetude of old observances, this custom of solemnizing our proper birth-day hath nearly passed away, or is left to children, who reflect nothing at all about the matter, nor understand any thing in it beyond cake and orange. But the birth of a New Year is of an interest too wide to be pretermitted by king or cobbler. No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.

New Years Eve indeed makes a temporary monster out of me. Normally sanguine, I am assailed my doubts and sense of wanting to make up for lost time. The door to the next room is ajar ahead of me, but I want to stay in the room for longer – there are so many corners I have not explored , and I haven’t even admired the antique furniture , the carved ceiling, or dusted the cobwebs on the mantelpiece . And most importantly , I can see the sand inexorably running down the hourglass. But sometimes that’s what we want , to have that one chance to again rearrange , create and pack into the last 12 months all the things that we hoped to be, wanted to accomplish , hoped to achieve .

New Years Eve mails I receive from others typically read : ‘Dear Friend , Here’s wishing you a happy new year . Best wishes for Happiness, Peace and Prosperity . Regards , X ‘ . In the meanwhile I write long paeans padded with ponderous quotes about the year past , unfinished business and new beginnings. Nervous recipients write back to appreciate the mail , and also to make gentle queries into the last time I visited my psychiatrist or counselor . They talk me about the benefits of Prozac , and the tremendous advantages of joining a remote Asiatic sect , which focuses on a quick blow to the head as initiation ceremony and blessings. It’s a very secretive group, they whisper , but they kindly promise to send me the website , and the Chief Head Banger Monk’s mobile as well . It’s a wonder that I have not sent half my email address book into either a cycle of depression and a psychiatrists couch , or perhaps made them into madly motivated dervishes working maniacally on mile long to-do lists . Start points among the first 100 could include :

Item 1 : Stop World Hunger . Item 2 : Ensure World Peace . Item 3 : Be nice to the pesky neighbor and his wife . Item 4: Be a better Person . Item 5 : Let there be Love , Peace and Goodwill to all Mankind .Item 6 : Will to do that African Safari this year . Item 7 : Get India’s growth rate into the double digits. Item 8 : Lose weight , or negotiate bulk liposuction rates from friendly neighborhood cosmetic surgeon .

You see what I mean .
Me, I am starting with easiest one on my list .
I am going to save the world.
It’s a little late now , so perhaps I will get right to it after breakfast tomorrow.