The year is new. People say so. For me it’s just a numerical change. I care a damn. How does it matter really? Life just happens. You can’t represent it in volumes ..that’s possible with the children’s encyclopedia series or some those sort of books. With life, it’s so disorderly. Clumsy.
We run like machines. It’s all on a schedule. Every 31st December, like the clock that strikes 12 and the chime chimes at 12, we all hoot the happy call. It’s a must. It’s a Happy New Year.
You cannot be at peace on the 31st night. You have to be autistic or deaf at the least to be doing that. The black dress is a must. The stilettos cannot be an inch shorter. The black dress cannot be an inch longer. It’s a Happy New Year.
The sms’ have to be prompt. What’s the use of having so many pals on your list otherwise? That kiss in the air on the bitch’s cheek is a must. You need to look more plastic tonight, more doll-like than the bitch here. It’s a Happy New Year.
You must sound shriller than ever. The laughter needs to be faked. You need to be loud and gaudy. The alcohol should ideally retard your thinking brain. The friends need to pet you the most. They need to sweet talk your innocent boozing self. It’s a Happy New Year.
The car has to run over at least 4-5 people. The black dresses need to be torn. Some of them at least. The boyfriend needs to be around to soothe his tormented girl. The police need to be around and watching over the crowd. It’s a Happy New Year.
The year is new. Hug everyone at your workplace. Read the story of that agonized woman. Okay, so this time only 4 drunken kids got themselves killed. Happy New Year!
We run like machines. It’s all on a schedule. Every 31st December, like the clock that strikes 12 and the chime chimes at 12, we all hoot the happy call. It’s a must. It’s a Happy New Year.
You cannot be at peace on the 31st night. You have to be autistic or deaf at the least to be doing that. The black dress is a must. The stilettos cannot be an inch shorter. The black dress cannot be an inch longer. It’s a Happy New Year.
The sms’ have to be prompt. What’s the use of having so many pals on your list otherwise? That kiss in the air on the bitch’s cheek is a must. You need to look more plastic tonight, more doll-like than the bitch here. It’s a Happy New Year.
You must sound shriller than ever. The laughter needs to be faked. You need to be loud and gaudy. The alcohol should ideally retard your thinking brain. The friends need to pet you the most. They need to sweet talk your innocent boozing self. It’s a Happy New Year.
The car has to run over at least 4-5 people. The black dresses need to be torn. Some of them at least. The boyfriend needs to be around to soothe his tormented girl. The police need to be around and watching over the crowd. It’s a Happy New Year.
The year is new. Hug everyone at your workplace. Read the story of that agonized woman. Okay, so this time only 4 drunken kids got themselves killed. Happy New Year!
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1 comments:
true...what's so 'new' abt the new year? the same old issues, the same old problems continue. You begin the year by faking a self you are not and end it by raising a toast to it...
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