Kishore Singh: New year, new approach

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Maybe it's just the fact of getting old that makes me view new year's parties with a jaundiced eye "" all the forced bonhomie, the mad dancing and frenzied drinking that's almost tribal in its invocation and far removed from our otherwise civilised veneer and sophistication!

But this year at least, my conscience was appeased when our table for 16 at the club where we had decided to ring in the new year was cancelled two days before the old year petered out.

The management of the club had sensibly decided in view of the tsunami tragedy that celebrations "" even thousands of kilometres away "" would make a farce of the tragedy that had struck our part of the world.

And so, at some cost to itself, it pulled out of what promised to be a lucrative commercial proposition.

Several other clubs in the capital did likewise, blocking space in the city's dailies to post their regrets over the cancellations. Of course, not every commercial institute proved to be as sensitive.

While the cancellations were few, and occupied little space, large ads announced the carnival of festivities that would usher in the new year for so many others.

The "longest-ever party", "belly dancers", "prizes galore" and "a night to remember" they promised were at variance from the stories next to the ads "" of those who survived and others who didn't, of horrific tallies of the dead and missing, of trauma and heartbreak and a collosal human tragedy.

For a while it seemed Delhi was occupied by people from two different planets, and they spoke in languages the other couldn't understand.

I could see from my children's faces that even though they ached to be at a "proper party", they couldn't argue against their consciences when kids their age had been orphaned.

And even though a hangover the morning after "" or the lack of it "" wouldn't change anything in Chennai or Car Nicobar, it just seemed callous to be carousing when there was so little to cheer about.

But Sarla is made of sterner stuff. "See," said my wife's sometimes best friend, "I've donated money to the Prime Minister's fund, I've given old clothes to the Delhi government's relief effort, and food and money for our housing society's collection, and I'll probably sign more cheques for NGOs when they come calling, but the new year is special and it isn't as though we can do anything more, so if I'm going to party, please don't call me a spoilsport."

Sarla wasn't entirely wrong, but then she wasn't entirely right either, and unluckily for her, the hub where she was going to watch the band Euphoria perform didn't see her point of view, so Sarla will probably spend the evening sulking at home in front of the TV.

On our part, we decided that since the new year is epochal in its way, to let the one slide into the other without making note of it was hardly deserving.

So, we'll assemble in our house "" all our family and some of our friends "" for a quiet evening.

We'll probably have a drink or two, play some music "" but not the kind you dance to "" offer our gratefulness for being spared this time round (as luck has it, we live on the very faultline where Delhi's killer quake is most likely to occur) and, at midnight, perhaps light a candle or even a host of candles for those who're still keeping a vigil for those missing, or those lost.

But on the bright side, one thing's for sure: for the first time in years, there will be many among us who won't be nursing hangovers. Not a bad way to start the new year.