Resolutions, Ruckus, and Reality
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Instagram: @rajatchandrasarmah5
In a small Indian town nestled along the banks of the Ganga, the anticipation of a new year was as thick as the winter fog. Loudspeakers blared the latest Bollywood remixes, and street vendors hawked cheap glittery “2024” hats and plastic horns. Every corner shop displayed banners proclaiming “New Year, New Beginnings!” as though the digits themselves held the promise of salvation. Amidst this controlled chaos was Ramesh, the town’s chaiwala and unchallenged philosopher-in-residence, preparing for what he called his “Annual New Year Symposium.”
The Build-Up
Ramesh’s chai stall was no ordinary tea joint. It was the epicenter of heated debates, unsolicited advice, and the occasional existential crisis. On December 30th, the regulars gathered as usual, sipping chai and discussing their grand New Year plans.
“Arre, this year I’m quitting cigarettes for good,” Banwari announced, taking a deep drag from his cigarette as he spoke.
Kamla, the neighborhood gossip, wasn’t far behind. “I’ve decided to join yoga classes,” she declared, conveniently forgetting her distaste for early mornings.
Even Golu, a pudgy 12-year-old with a samosa in each hand, added his two bits. “I’ll stop eating junk food… after New Year’s Eve, of course.”
Ramesh, pouring chai with the precision of a scientist, smirked. “So, everyone’s making promises, eh? Let me guess—by February, Banwari will still be puffing away, Kamla will be snoozing through her yoga classes, and Golu will still be found at the chaat stall.”
The group burst into laughter, though Banwari’s chuckle had a nervous edge.
“Listen,” Ramesh continued, his tone playful yet sharp, “resolutions are like Bollywood sequels—big hype, no substance. Everyone loves the idea of change, but few actually work on it. And when they fail, they blame the calendar, not themselves.”
A The Countdown
December 31st arrived, and the town square transformed into a carnival. Kite sellers, fairy lights, and an open stage added to the festive air. The loudspeakers switched to remixed bhajans after a stern warning from the local pandit, who felt Bollywood was tarnishing the sanctity of the occasion.
On the stage, Sunil, the local poet and part-time teacher, performed his yearly ode to New Year resolutions:
“This year I swear, I’ll be more wise,
But soon, like kites, my promises fly!”
The audience clapped and laughed, some already discreetly sipping desi daaru from pocket flasks. Meanwhile, Ramesh stood at his chai stall, watching the spectacle unfold.
A group of college students, emboldened by caffeine and curiosity, approached him. “Ramesh bhaiya, why do you always mock New Year resolutions? Shouldn’t we at least try to improve ourselves?”
Ramesh set down his kettle, theatrically wiped his hands, and said, “Beta, resolutions aren’t bad. But tell me, why wait for January 1st to quit smoking or start yoga? Improvement doesn’t need a calendar; it needs commitment. If you need fireworks and a countdown to inspire change, you’re not serious about it.”
The students nodded thoughtfully, though one muttered under his breath, “He sounds like my father.”
The Absurdities
As midnight approached, the town erupted in excitement. Firecrackers lit up the sky, and phones buzzed with WhatsApp forwards filled with motivational quotes and recycled jokes. Golu, armed with a plastic horn, ran around scaring stray dogs, much to their dismay.
Kamla was caught red-handed at the dessert counter, stuffing her mouth with gulab jamuns. “It’s the last day of the year!” she protested when confronted. “Yoga can wait till tomorrow!”
Banwari, who had sworn off cigarettes earlier in the day, was seen lighting one at exactly 12:01 AM. “This is just symbolic,” he rationalized.
Even Sunil, the poet, was overheard composing a new verse between bites of aloo chaat:
“This year I’ll diet, I truly insist,
But first, let me enjoy one last twist!”
Ramesh, observing these antics from his stall, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Humans are hilarious,” he muttered to himself. “We crave change, but cling to our habits like a dog to its bone.”
The Aftermath
By mid-January, the festive fervor had faded, and life in the town returned to its usual rhythm. Kamla’s yoga mat had become a makeshift rug for her cat. Banwari was back to his pack-a-day habit, and Golu was spotted devouring pani puris with unabashed glee.
At the chai stall, the regulars sheepishly admitted their failures. “You were right, Ramesh bhaiya,” Kamla sighed. “New Year promises are useless.”
Ramesh shook his head. “Not useless, Kamla. Just misunderstood. You all make grand, sweeping resolutions. Start small, my friends. Real change is like good chai—it takes time to brew. Focus on one habit at a time, and celebrate small wins.”
The Wisdom
That evening, Ramesh shared his closing thoughts on the New Year. “Look, the problem isn’t making resolutions; it’s turning them into a circus. Improvement doesn’t need fireworks or Instagram posts. It needs patience, discipline, and a willingness to forgive yourself when you slip.”
He raised a cup of chai and declared, “Here’s to doing better, one small step at a time. Drink good chai, laugh often, and never stop trying—even if it’s March, April, or November.”
The crowd at the stall cheered, their spirits lifted not by resolutions, but by the wisdom of a chaiwala who had mastered the art of living.
As the sun set over the Ganga, the town welcomed the New Year not with unrealistic promises, but with humility, laughter, and, of course, a steaming cup of chai.
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati, Assam , India
31/12/2024
WISH ALL MY READER A VERY VERY HAPPY , PRODUCTIVE AND ENJOYABLE NEW YEAR 2025
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