Happy New Year! It’s the Nepali New Year 2078. And it’s week 10 of Wallpaper Wednesday, a collaboration (or shall we call it an unpaid partnership) between Bajruman and The Wordcastle. Over a random conversation on Instagram we came up with the idea to bring together Ayush’s photography and my poems together on the same page on Instagram.
For 10 weeks we have been putting one photo poem a week as our insta story for viewers to screenshot and use as wallpapers for their phones. When we began it was just an idea that struck, and no one checked the calendar on what date the 10th week would be. But here we are, and it’s the new year!
We do sometimes joke that that there is no one who is actually using these photos as wallpapers! (If you have do let us know :D)
Here are all the 10 wallpapers from Wallpaper Wednesday!
What a trouble it is, a new year for the first few days. My hands so accustomed to the old date – writes it unconsciously all over. A few months and it is a habit until another year comes by.
What does a change of calendar do but make me feel older, a little nervous of the passing time that I seem to capture in my daily planner.
I must now go buy a new one, least I forget the meetings scheduled for this year.
A new year means many things, a new planner and it’s cost is the first it brings.
I’ve been wondering for a few days what post should I make for 2021. How should I wish you a Happy New Year for the year it has been. I am out of words. All I want to do is bask under the morning sun as the cold seeps away from my cold feet and hope that everything will be better soon. I hope you take some time to bask in the sun yourself as you feel the sun rays over your skin and realize that it’s magic. Other times I have been trying to buy a new planner, the correct size I am yet to find. And thus, a planner poem instead. Hope you enjoyed.
Its 2077, the Nepali New Year. Yesterday was New Year’s Eve. The city that wouldn’t be able to sleep due to the lights, music, and people are devoid of the very thing. The wind growled a little louder through the empty streets. The asphalt wasn’t made for silence, but it might be a good listener after all.
The dates have been slowly erased from my memory. It’s as though we are living one week to another. It’s just yesterday, today, and tomorrow. That’s all it seems to matter. But the calendars are changing. A new date has come as we watch the sun rays enter through our window panes — locked down.
The question I have is: how shall we greet each other this new year? When I dial the number of my friends, what shall I tell them? When I type messages across the screen, what shall I tell the recipient? The wishes seem to be sucked out, empty like the streets we look upon.
H-A-P-P-Y seems the last word on our lists. Then what shall I fill the void with? Adjectives have run dry as I read news across the world. It started during one Lunar New Year and ravaged the world in 100 days. We have reached another year elsewhere, but the war doesn’t seem to stop. The roads aren’t easy, neither are they defined.
Prized inventory systems have broken down, forecasting has been challenged to it’s bones, political systems are at their brink.
What if, what if, are two words that hit like a hammer. But there are no what ifs. It is just what it is, and what remains is human resilience ricocheting off the walls of history.
What we do know is this will be over. And then what we do know is we must change; what we do know is we cannot forget. We pray to come out not just alive, but also more accountable, understanding, and respectful of the world we must create. The virus has exposed our current world with its demonic fangs ready to pierce through the already thinned skin of humanity.
But demons can be beaten. And we try. Warriors worldwide are armed as we place our faith over science.
Together we try; together we pray; together we survive.
I shall, therefore, not wish you a happy new year, I shall wish you a stronger new year, a wiser new year, a fighter’s new year, a believer’s new year, a knowledgeable new year, a just new year, a more equal new year, a safer new year. A new year we will never again take for granted. And maybe somewhere down the line if we did all these and more, we’d one day again have a happier new year.
It is that time of the year when we say, shockingly, surprisingly or sadly, “It’s the year end already!” “How fast time flies!” And I begin to wonder how should I wish the world the start of a new calendar.
I do not understand what time does to us, or is it our brains? I can still remember the first week of 2018, I had a different job and I was performing poetry one cold evening surrounded by my lovely colleagues.
2018 was a year of change, of confusion, and of challenge. It was heart breaking at times, and other times liberating. At times it filled me with despair and other times it made be feel like a warrior. It taught me to plan, and then to let go of the plan when it failed. It was what literary books would call coming of age, at 25 instead of 15, a year when I came face to face with many of my values boiling inside.
It was the year I decided I need to go meditate and I spent 10 days aloof of the world, but so much enriched from within. It was the year I panicked and quarter life crisis was the major topic of discussion, literally everywhere. I bought many books to solve it, just as much as I tried to tie time by crossing off things on the list of life that should have happened, only to realize letting time flow is the most important thing I can do. It was also the year I realized how savvy I am at saving. I should hold on to this more often.
It was also the year I finally joined Toastmasters after 7 years of coming to know about the club(s). The year I socialized so much that the 15 year old me would be shocked.
It was also the year I came across some wonderful people and ideas, and learnt to map my life in ways I could not have imagined.
It was the year I felt more comfortable in my skin.
The year the vastness of the universe terrified me, and the year I became a part of the vastness.
As I spend the last day of 2018, I realize how my spelling and grammar have gotten worse, and I haven’t gotten past one paragraph without a single error as I write this. Auto correct! It’s a sign to write more longhand. Maybe it is time to gather the courage spread across all veins.
2018 was the year I expected to go to grad school, only to realize I have already been enrolled at the School called Life.