For most people, hoarder = parent. And mine are no different. Each has their own rooms (yes, plural!) of flotsam and jetsam—gifts no one can ever regift; tools of all sorts of abandoned hobbies; things to be repaired… For most of my adult life, I have tried to get them to clear it, dreaming of minimalist spaces with pristine surfaces. Until earlier this year when my nearly-teen niece—to whom the tinkering gene has passed after clearly skipping a generation—discovered the “rooms of requirement”, as she calls them. There is endless entertainment in junk—cardboard to turn into playhouses, vintage toys, cameras and view-masters for stories, nuts and bolts to create model cars, and everything from glue to screwdrivers to make it all happen. There is much to be said for clutter if it stills the wail, “I’m bored!”
—Shalini Umachandran
During the covid lockdowns, my favourite moments were when the newspaper boy would come in the morning, on his bicycle, rolling up the newspapers, tying them in a rubber band and correctly aiming them into the balcony of each house. When the world had stopped, he seemed to break the stillness. It was also heartening that there were people who had not stopped their subscription. I then moved into an apartment complex, where I rarely see the newspaper guy. But I can hear him when he throws the newspapers outside my door on the fourth floor. I sometimes check other floors, doing my own little survey of how many people take physical newspapers—there are quite a few. Recently, I saw this newspaper delivered neatly into the hook of a door in Kolkata—as if showing reverence. The joy of such sightings.
—Nipa Charagi
We were just wrapping up Christmas breakfast when an unexpected gift arrived—a package from a friend containing what looked like a giant muffin studded with raisins and candied fruits. After slicing, it looked and felt more like bread, and the mystery was cleared up only when the friend told us it was a panettone. Made by Bengaluru’s Honoré Bakery, one of the few in the city that makes this yeasty Italian bread-fruitcake, a panettone takes days to proof, like sourdough, and lasts 3-5 days at room temperature. We cut thick slices of it, toasted them lightly, buttered and devoured the whole loaf in one sitting, savouring the little hits of raisins and fruit peels between bites. It felt like nothing short of a Christmas miracle.
—Shrabonti Bagchi
I maintain a safe distance from cricket. Correction: I stay away from watching and playing most sports. In fact, I dislike the finals of cricket tournaments, especially when India is playing. The stress feels like extreme sport. This year I was actively avoiding the India versus South Africa finals at the ICC Men’s T20 World Cup, but not for long. At one point, my family and neighbourhood erupted in loud cheers and out of curiosity, I decided to take a peek. It turned out Surya Kumar Yadav had taken a logic-defying catch sealing India’s victory. While terms like off-field are alien to me, I do get athleticism, and I have revisited Yadav’s Instagram page several times to rewatch that moment of absolute glory.
—Jahnabee Borah
A big part of a journalist’s job is listening to people’s stories—their past, their every day and imagined lives. It’s an interest I have grown up with so, in a way, I am glad I chose a writer’s life. This year, however, I realised learning too much about others’ highs and lows—beyond the demands of a story—was becoming exhausting and robbing me of my mental peace, more so when my daily social media consumption was already averaging 9 hours. And that’s when I discovered the joy of “tuning out”—you exchange pleasantries, initiate a basic conversation and then tune out in a way only you know you’re only physically present. It made numerous vital-for-job networking get-togethers and constant meetings with sources so much easier.
—Pooja Singh
You often seek comfort in the familiar during tough times. In a year marked by loss and health issues, I sought refuge in reruns of older sitcoms and shows. Not for me was the mindless gore and banality of thrillers and mysteries that flooded the OTT space this year. I played Alo Alo, Fawlty Towers, Friends and The Big Bang Theory on a loop, chortling alongside the studio audience when Joey wore all of Chandler’s clothes in the episode, The One Where No One’s Ready, or Sheldon exclaimed “Bazinga!” in a ball pit. The old jokes didn’t seem monotonous, even though I knew I had laughed at the same ones a thousand times earlier. To me, they were reassuring and soothing.
—Avantika Bhuyan
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