They have already started playing the carols at Landmark, the bookshop which is like my second home (the third home is my office). Till ten years ago, listening to carols gave me more pleasure than anything else. They still do. There is an air of joy and innocence about them, and how effortlessly they transport you to a land that is foggy, if not covered with snow, where cheerful people move about, and from somewhere very far, you hear the strains of Jingle Bells.
But of late, whenever I hear the carols, a sense of concern elbows out whatever joy they bring me. The carols remind me that Christmas is near, which means the year is about to end, which means another year in my life is about to end. What have I done so far? Am I a success, or am I a failure?
While I was listening to the carols this evening, I felt the last grains of sand slipping out of my fist. How time flies! My breath still smells of the whisky I drank in the last New Year Party.