I have always been fascinated with the endings more than the beginnings. They give me an opportunity to prepare for what is going to come next. That is why December 31 fascinates me more than January 1 each year. There is something unique about it.
On this particular day I sit like a spectator at a tennis match watching the soon-to-be-last-year and the coming one facing each other on either side of the net. The day allows me to look back upon all that had mattered to me and organise what might affect me in the coming 365 days. This day serves as the moment of transition; a day when the sense of it being a day ceases to exist; when boundaries of time dissolve temporarily; and when a part of the future is made to grow on past expectations.
The day also goes a step ahead and defies the modern-day tradition of naming moments on the basis of dominant events/moods that differentiated a particular time-period from the remaining; just like the word ‘change’ is being used to describe 2008 and all that occurred in its 12 months. But December 31 has, just like you and me, a fixed name; an identity,’ just one word, that forever clings on to it and gives a meaning to these 24 hours. It’s called ‘hope.’
We look back to our yesterday to ensure that when we peep into our tomorrow there is a certain hope to live for that day. We hope that a certain past is not repeated in the coming 365 days. We also hope that a portion of it is. Hopes range from the miniscule ones of fulfilling our New Year resolutions, unlike previous years, to more determined ones like changing our lifestyles for the better and remaining hopeful that nothing bad touches anybody’s life. Our hopes of completing in the future what we began in the past, and making new beginnings, it’s all these that spur us on to aspire to newer heights of achievement.
Above all, we hope to keep our hopes alive and when next year, on the same day, we once again sit and look back, the feeling of having fulfilled all our hopes drives us forward.