BENGALURU: There’s a nip in the air and the Christmas hysteria has subsided. All the hotels and restaurants competed with each other throwing fruit-soaking and tree-lighting ceremonies that were attended mostly by the newbies and different hued hoi-poloi just to rub shoulders with the hoi-oligoi, and guzzle copious amounts of ‘free’ flowing mulled wine (the operative word being free!).
Not to say that our hosts were not generous to a fault, but a certain je-ne-sais-quoi was missing this year. Maybe most of the regulars were travelling and the repetitive ‘sameness’ of all the events was a little irksome. Whatever it was, a different ‘magic’ slowly but surely took over my city which thrilled me to bits!
A lot of auld Bangalore threw private parties where a close group of guests sat around a bonfire (yes! we still have bungalows with large gardens), and exchanged stories that only a few were privy to. Too many of us have suddenly lost family and friends and the swiftness with which they left has stunned most of us into an uncomfortable silence. It was wonderful and cathartic to share memories of the friends and family who weren’t with us.
We are a generation of people whose foundation was laid in the most prestigious convent schools, so belting out Christmas carols was second nature to us. Sporadically someone would remember a teacher, nun or padre who drilled these carols into our subconscious brain and we would go into peals of laughter bordering on hysteria! All this bonding and bonhomie helped us in dealing with whatever angst we had.
The streets weren’t overflowing with people and cars, (at least in my neck of the woods) and lo and behold! I heard strains of carol singing as a young bunch of people went door to door singing only like the young ‘uns can, strumming their guitars and clapping in sync. Quite beautiful! It certainly lifted my spirits as a wave of nostalgia tugged at my heartstrings.
I remember tagging along with my older siblings when I was a young ’un, as they joined a group of carollers. Of course that was an excuse for youngsters to meet and make eyes at each other and finalise their rendezvous on the next day. But, there was an aching innocence in what they did, purity in their affection and a line of decorum and decency. Look at me? I already sound like Tyrannosaurus Rex!
There is no doubt that with all progression there comes dissolution of what another generation held sacred. I suppose that is when one realizes that ‘pretending’ to still enjoy and revel in the ‘same’ things, reeks of certain desperation. Change is the name of the game and unless we do, we will slowly but surely get fossilised.
There has to be a sense of ennui and restlessness that drives a person to do bigger and better things. And similarly, one has to find a place of calm and satisfaction, which fulfils you and gives you a sense of belonging. If that is a utopian nirvana…so be it.
I plan to be kind to myself and my loved ones, give them the time and space to flourish and grow, and at the same time step back and see the seedlings planted in my garden struggle or prosper, secure in the fact that one day they will overcome.
This is a ‘glamma’s’ wisdom…thank you universe.
(The writer’s views are personal)