Its 8th December and the Sikkimese New Year eve tonight.
While growing up we never celebrated our New Year. When I finally had the guts to contest this with my father he told me that New Year was meant for those who toil the whole year round and can finally indulge in some luxuries- clothes and, most importantly, meat (read: good food). According to him, everyday is losoong for us. Hearing this power packed reasoning left me cold. I just didn't have the guts to utter another word so I walked out of the room.
That was then. Right now I am just back after walking some five kms all alone on this cold winter night. I am really envious of everyone back home. Cold, alone but thankfully not hungry, I'm really missing home tonight. It suprises me since we never celebrated it anyways. Today I feel like questioning my father- Celebrations are meant to be enjoyed but underlying all these, isn't it more about family bonding? Isn't it about the lovely relation we share with each other and the rest? Maybe this was the way my father perceived such occasions but I have made a promise to myself that I am never going to have the same perception.
I hold you in high esteem dad but tonight, just tonight, I feel you were a tad bit wrong.
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