Burn, Burn, Burn

I found this, a few days back, when I was blog hopping:

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk,

mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time,

the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing,

but burn, burn, burn.

I don’t know the context of these particular words but now  I am filled with the urge to read more of Jack Kerouac.

A Stirring (albiet late) Ramble on December Love, New Year Cheer? Hah! What Hogwash, & Lame Squad Among Other Things

Come Jan 4th, the snow on my Blog disappears for good and I wanted to write this post before that. I don’t know why they – the wordpress people- can’t let the snow stay (fall?) till late Jan; then again, I see it as one more of those inexplicable reasons why December stands out for me.

I Love December. Passionately. Completely. With all my heart. That’s right, I love… a month. This shouldn’t really come as a surprise. I have, after all, expressed my innate fondness for the Microsoft Office assistant cat, tea, words (my favourites at the moment being ‘Exquisite’ & ‘Slaughter’!) etc which are all borderline obsessive. A love for a month seems saner in some respects, especially when it comes with good reasons.

As any self obsessed kid/human being, my initial reasons for loving December centered on the one and most important fact:  My ‘Happy Birthday’ is in December! I was and continue to be extremely pleased with ‘my being’ and loving December – which bought me gifts and a day when I was fussed over more than usual- came naturally.

One of the earliest memories of my childhood (which is also one of my few early memories not directly connected to food) is that of come December my dad fiddling around with the Diwali lights, usually stowed away under the kitchen cabinet, which we would then put up around our house in Lucknow. They were meant to be Christmas + New Year decorations, but they invariably went up before my birthday, which I always took as a subtle yet obvious indicator of my own self importance! Did I mention I was self obsessed?

Out of the dozen or more schools I’ve been to, a few have been of the Convent variety. This entailed that come December, if you were in the lower grades, you were lined up and taken to the music room and taught to sing carols. By rote. Not that I minded, really. Because once you’ve sung your carols, and done the Christ is Born Play (I was always chosen as one of the Three Wise Kings!) you got to stay at home, for over two weeks! That’s right – Christmas Break! I spent most of that time, glued to the idiot box watching every single glitzy glatzy Christmas special that could be called forth, by the judicious use of a remote control. I loved them all – I loved each and every commercialised moment of it.

At home we usually had our very own fake Christmas tree with fake gifts – little matchboxes and soap boxes covered in decorative wrapping paper.  I never really believed in Santa but I always opened each and every soapbox and matchbox after the decorations came down hoping against hope for some sort of magical transformation. Never did happen (surprise, surprise) but I did it anyway.

I remember last year, before the whole ‘cusp debacle’, having a time pass discussion with a friend of mine on famous people born in the same zodiac as our inconsequential selves. Now my friend was clearly winning – throwing out one name after the other. I was generally wracking my brain for someone so famous, that he/ she would trump all her bigwigs.  Enlightenment hit a few moments later and I blurted out with unparalleled fervour: JESUS CHRIST WAS CAPRICORN!!! He was a freakin’ Capricorn! I won that argument hands down. (Though now that I think of it there are apparently some inaccuracies about his actual birth date and worse, my actual zodiac. Sigh.)

The point of these disconnected vignettes is to merely point out the obvious. I love this month and so, I should be excused from participating in the terribly traumatic end of December that New Year entails. Why, I fail to understand, does everyone count down the last year (and my dear poor month) with such visceral enjoyment?

The truth is, I think, that I am so determined that I must and should love this month that good stuff happens. My results when they come out bang on in the middle of December, turn out to be pretty well decent; being the first year that I am spending December away from home, my dad pays me a surprise visit; as a founding member of the Lame Squad (The Squad can be described at best being well – Lame and is open to membership to all those who can answer this profound question: What is the Lame Question?) I get the best Double Chocolate Truffle Cake possible from them!

A friend of mine, tired of my rhetoric question of ‘How can one not love December?’ told me during Christmas Brunch that she was forced to love the month as I would scream bloody murder otherwise. All I can say to that is ‘see? I seem to rub off December cheer even on people around me!’

I end this long rambling with a little reminder for next…this year. Around the end of this year say December, if you see a girl grinning like a maniac, and humming Christmas carols under her breath and looking way too pleased with life in general. Forgive her for her weird good cheer. You see, she is in love.