Letter to 2014

When all one does half a year is write letters, regularly, how can she not write one to you, 2014? Hi. I knew this was due since the last couple of days. I knew I was risking my reputation when I began scribbling one to you while at work, and I knew I really intended to write a heartfelt one to you, when I didn't just compose one last evening, in between thirty seven odd jobs and forty three plans gelled into one. It was nice that the plans that had to work out, did. What I did scribble were events I remembered since January, and yes, what a surprise.

Last 31st I drank myself alone to blackout and the 1st was of puke, cramps and unbearable sadness. All I made sure for this 31st was I would not be drinking alone, or drinking like a sponge -- emptying bottles in endless agony. I won. But that was what happened on the last day of December. Let me take you on a ride back to where we began. We kicked off the year literally unable to kick off habits and hangover. And then the jingbang of the two mothers, twins, their two friends, the sister, and me, we set off for Sunderbans. And what a wonderful trip, that. We returned to the general motion of life overhauled by paints and repairs of my room to say a 'Yes!' to R when she asked me if I would come along to Darjeeling with her. That was one of the most impromptu decisions of my life. I knew I had to make it to the mountains to build you up around me in a beautiful way. We went, just the two of us and had a wonderful time in the cold with the Sleeping Gods and the scrambled eggs and the Old Monk. And I completed one chapter of my thesis.

Once back, you greeted me with the monotoneity of train tracks and the revival of disappointments, in things cluttered around the personal and the professional. I carried on. I promised myself I would have my own car by the time you end, and would do it even if I am in no better job. The jingbang, minus the mother and increased by the aunt and her two daughters went to Darjeeling in May, and it was pristine. Tripping with the clouds. Driving in the rain. The sense of familiarity spread across the unknown. It was a strange trip. It followed what one says about the mountains -- you take time to take that first step, but once you do, there is no looking back.

Having returned I plunged into getting busy. I was facing interviews in Bombay and went to Delhi with a change of career in mind. I returned to more interviews and the rigor. It was sultry, the heat. It was sad, the monsoon. Especially after one has had a very memorable spring. In passing of minutes into hours into seasons I landed up with the job which offered me socio-economic stability. And drowned me in depression.

Here, I took up blogging and Buddhism. The harmony of these notes fluttered around my heart and pacified the constant chirp of the caged, clocked bird. I flew with the words. And took off to the mountains in Bhutan in October -- safely attesting it as the best trip of my life. I had never for once imagined that it would turn out to be the best. It was with a friend who is completely different from me -- a vegetarian, teetotaler, studious, workaholic. Yet, there was peace like that of a Yin-Yang. We shared serene excitement and happiness. I think that is quite rare.

Things were changing in me. I facilitated towards the buying of my first car 'without a single penny off my old parents or my new job'. I loved it. And I kept writing. Till one day, a gentleman publisher offered me what would be the most surprising offer of my life. He wanted to publish the compiled letters. Suddenly, all the heartbreak, and the ruining of peace and the disaster of career took a back seat. I was mighty surprised with the consistent good reviews I was receiving for my letters. I was unfolding my other potentials and I am glad the prayers winged me. I made more friends. And I became a better daughter to my parents -- now that is a joy that is unparalleled, that which no one before you could give me.

December was all about I's wedding and reliving the year with old flames, seeking for new. It was about knowing and wanting to know more. And last night, I stuck to the promise I had made on the first day, I did not drink alone. I drank responsibly and drove back too. I loved this new me. From beneath the petals you have uncovered this fruitful, passionate, better me. I feel good about myself even though I am still severely underconfident, and aggressively passive. But for every wall that appears inside my head, I have words to break it apart.

You may not have given me that one thing I really, really wanted, but you gave me a thousand other things to be happy about. You gave me a me to face. Thank you!

Two thousand and fourteen kisses,

K.