The Flagging Year

The month of December has arrived.

I remember when that used to be a joyous event. Oh December! I've waited a whole year for you! There a little bite in the air, if it hasn't gotten quite cold already. Noses and ears take the brunt of the punishment (ever feel them go numb?), and poor uncovered fingers are forced to toil in spite of conditions similar to rigor mortis. Even in the tropical subcontinent, the mornings and evenings force the need of sweaters or an extra blanket. It's lovely. And as if that weren't great enough, Christmas is fast approaching. I can't tell you enough how much the holiday season means to me. I love Christmas. Its a time of frigid weather, sweet stuff, gifts and giving, sharing, unbridled joy, anticipation, family, and every good thing in the world. Then comes New Years, with all the hope it brings.

No more, I'm afraid.

Now December reminds me that another year has inexplicably passed by. Gone. Whizzed by. In a blink. And just some 330 days earlier, I was wondering if it was ever going to end.

How does this happen every time? The days just go by one by one, and now suddenly there are less than four weeks left in the year? Its frustrating. Mindbogglingly disconcerting.

And now I'm forced to reflect. What have I done this year? And alas, the answer is always the same: nothing. Nothing worth while anyway.

Fuck it. I'm not reflecting. For what, anyway? Is there ever any change? Do not give me that "change comes from within" bullshit either. I don't know how it happens. And I know how it happens. And another years burns away. An entire decade has burned away. And it all feels so meaningless.

I would like to say I've learned many things, but learning is only permissible till a certain point. After that, the lessons become repetitive and increasingly pointless.

There's this funny thing about the flagging part of the year, to do with the sun. Evenings are lovely. Its the sunset. I go on and on about this simple phenomenon, but I do believe that it has something to do with the angle of the rays at this latitude at this time of the year: and the evenings become golden. Or even moreso than other seasons. And even when I was here in Pune and I hated the place, I could appreciate that much. Going back to the only good semester I had back then, I remember a song that touched a chord then.

     "Staring at the loss
     Looking for the cause
     And never really sure.
     Nothing but a hole
     To live without a soul
     And nothing to be learned.".

Oh, I love the melancholy guitar lead, Chris Cornell's emotive voice and words, and that fantastically violent solo in the middle. But those words were so true for me. Not so much then, but then so many times after. Sometimes I just have to ask, what's it all for then?

And after all the nonsense, its sad to say that I now hate sunsets. Because I'm afraid of the dark now. And it gets dark all too soon these days. I like when its day. When I can see things. The night hides everything. I look out the window and I can't see anything except little spots of light glowing suspiciously. The dark is deep, foreboding, and unforgiving. Unkind. And I can't see a damn thing. The sun no longer sets for me, it is setting on me.

There are hardly any days left in this year. There is no time to fix things that I have broken. And no time to start something afresh. Its all limbo now, and I will live out the days trying in vain to fill them meaningfully with something that I can only haplessly hope will be of some use.

And now there's nothing else to do in the last remaining light. "Loss" is no longer an applicable term. Oh, but how I love Audioslave, and how they have words for every occasion. And how I wish I did not fucking understand them.

For I believe the sun won't rise, so I must stand and greet the coming night... in the last remaining light...