I was in a bus when it struck

Twelve. Waking up from fitful dozing I heard the yelling and screaming Of boys bypassing the bus in their bikes Screaming, “ Happy New Year!”

I look around my fellow passengers – We have yet a long way to reach home There wouldn’t be much of a New Year celebration For us; I love my fellow travelers.

I fall into a reverie, remembering New Years – Ruefully, I remember those, drunken, partying kinds That of lying in the middle of a highway at night That of dizzying hopping from bar to bar That spent on the top of a hill, shivering in the cold That by the side of the sea where I would part with my love.

I remember the New Years, lacklustre, spent at home Indifferent, blank to the gyrating glitterati in the TV New Years spent alone, nursing a drink, bitter Blaming self for the promises unkept, resolutions unresolved.

Chilling gusts of wind blast through the open window.

I remember those who were with us in the beginning of the last year Yet no more, today, or ever, on another New Year day.