At the Spin of the Longitude

My oldest memory of a New Year's Eve is of having a new-born brother. Along with a blurred jumble of Year-ending TV programmes, flashing movie stars at parties, and Anu Malik and Abhijeet doing their bit for the masses. Closer to youth, there are the pre-Board examination woeful memories of parental grounding and envy of neighbourhood revelry. Coupled with middle-school pre-New-Year hip-girls' chatter about potential dates at the Saturday Club Do (that Have-Nots like me fantasise about till date).

Freedom from parental sensibilities and the ticket to debauchery came together at the law school. Where by dint of being low-life first year student, you are entitled to be ferried to a Party With Alcohol. Where you are told Random Hookups take place. Where Ex-boyfriends rise from the ashes. Or are woefully seen Hooking Up with Your Best Friend. And then you grow up to expecting that the Cute Junior Boy will hit on you Tonight. And then you grow old and cynical one year, when the Averagely Hot Phirang is making Cheesy Flirtatious Conversation, and you know you are Capitulating solely because you are Bored. And then, there are New Years of the Warm and Fuzzy Love-you-Forever variety.

Last night, I felt like I was happily back in adolescence. As I curled in at about one thirty, slightly stoned, at a friend's place, wondering what new stories will unfurl as our twenty-three-or-so longitude spins once more. Reminiscing the personal and the political. Bhutto killed and Modi triumphant. Loves lost and forgotten, loves almost fallen into. Little disgruntled. But mostly thankful.


Arawn said…
The NYP this year was strangely a lot less exciting as it was in the first two years. The bored feeling you mention was clearly in play - though I had not the privilege of having firangs to flirt with. :-)

I think it's always strange to believe that you feel something all alone, and then find your thoughts in someone else's words in someone else's life.
Anonymous said…
I never knew that senior women expect/like cute junior boys hitting on them. :-)
Good. I shall try my luck next new year's, as the number of likeable senior women grows scantier.

More seriously, a lovely post.

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