Bah, humbug!
Saturday December 29 2007 17:22 IST
Timeri N Murari
Like Ebenezer Scrooge in the Charles Dickens’ novella “A Christmas Carol”, all I can say for the New Year is ‘bah, humbug’. We humans are a weird species. We celebrate a ritual that marks the ending of an ‘old year’ to welcome in a ‘New Year’. I firmly believe this annual event was invented by greeting card manufacturers forcing us to buy ‘season greetings’ cards to send to people we communicate with only once a year. And we tell them things about ourselves which they have absolutely no interest in. I always hope to be dropped of someone’s list but never have that luck so I’m always sending out last minute cards to those who stubbornly keep sending me their season’s greetings. And when I do I bet they’re hoping not to receive one from me so they can drop me off their list. We’re both trapped in a greeting card syndrome.
In some cities, we gather in huge numbers in special venues like New York’s Times square, London’s Trafalgar Square, Sydney harbour bridge or else in clubs and bars to drink and eat too much, and count down the seconds for the year to end. In this annual rite we also wear funny hats, blow on whistles and balloons descend from the ceilings. We stage a spectacular fire work displays (Sydney) and let off fire crackers (India and China). It’s also the time when we make promises to be better humans in a litany of lies called New Year resolutions. We had made them the previous New Year’s Eve but of course, after the hangover, reverted to our old bad habits. And then we shake hands or hug and wish each other a ‘happy new year’ in the forlorn hope that no further disasters will befall on the earth, and us.
Wherever we are, we all measure the year by the Gregorian calendar. To make life confusing for our celebrations, the Gregorian calendar was based on the Julian calendar introduced by Julius Caesar in 46 BC. Ahh, if it was all that simple. Julius in turn had reformed the Roman calendar. The Julian calendar is still followed by some societies like the Berbers of North Africa and orthodox churches. So probably they live in a time warp and they will drink to a different beat to the rest of us who celebrate January 1st by the Gregorian calendar. Pope Gregory XIII gave this to us in 1582 by a papal bull. Other people have different calendars, the Muslims the dates are by Hirja, while Tamils and Telugus have their own New Year day. As do the Chinese, Japanese and many other cultures. The earliest recorded celebration of New Year’s was in Mesopotamia in 2000 BC but that took place at the vernal equinox in mid-March.
As you can see what we have invented as New Year’s Eve, isn’t the same for everyone else. A Year is as artificial as a politician’s humanity; it just does not exist. We have created this measurement which we call ‘time’ in a universe in which time simply has no meaning. Time is our comforter, our Linus blanket, to measure our mortality. We call our earth’s rotation of the sun one day, and from there add on an arbitrary number of these days to call it a year. And we live on this planet an ‘x’ number of years which are noted down in our obituary notices. Born on, died on, RIP.
We even believe we can apply this measurement to the universe. According to our calculations, the universe we inhabit is 13.7, plus or minus 0.2, billion years old. I’ve always wondered how we not only arrived at 13.7 but also that plus or minus figure. Was someone hanging around there with a stop watch at the moment of singularity when the big bang occurred? From nothing in four or five minutes the universe came into existence and is expanding still. Someone has guessed that it’s 93 billion light years from one end to the other. Okay, I know these measurements are supposed to be on the observation of cosmic microwave background radiation. According to all these calculations we don’t even have the comfort of living in one universe. There are, possibly, many universes out there, all needing someone to measure their ages in what we call time.
Humans never allow reality to mar their enjoyment, so we celebrate this artifice of passing time in our many different ways. For some reason, at the midnight hour, apart from toasting and blowing whistles, we sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ or at least a version of the Robert Burns’ poem. In Scotland where New Year’s eve and the New Year’s Day, Hogmanay, are more important events that even Christmas. A moment past midnight, a dark handsome man carrying a lump of coal and burnt muffin must cross the threshold to bring the house luck. While the Japanese celebrate with Bonenkai, ‘forget-the-year’ parties which sounds very much like hitting the delete key on my computer. At midnight, the Buddhist temples strike the gong 108 times to expel the 108 human weaknesses. I had no idea we had so few. The Spanish eat 12 grapes at midnight in the hope they’ll have 12 good months ahead of them. I would’ve thought 12 bottles of excellent Spanish wine would have been a better guarantee for good luck.
But even Scrooge, by the story’s end, was converted into believing in Christmas. We need the ‘New Year’ to mourn and celebrate the passing of what we define as time in our life spans. I’ll succumb and wish everyone a great New Year.
Discuss
Tell a friend
Bury
Saturday December 29 2007 17:22 IST
Timeri N Murari
Like Ebenezer Scrooge in the Charles Dickens’ novella “A Christmas Carol”, all I can say for the New Year is ‘bah, humbug’. We humans are a weird species. We celebrate a ritual that marks the ending of an ‘old year’ to welcome in a ‘New Year’. I firmly believe this annual event was invented by greeting card manufacturers forcing us to buy ‘season greetings’ cards to send to people we communicate with only once a year. And we tell them things about ourselves which they have absolutely no interest in. I always hope to be dropped of someone’s list but never have that luck so I’m always sending out last minute cards to those who stubbornly keep sending me their season’s greetings. And when I do I bet they’re hoping not to receive one from me so they can drop me off their list. We’re both trapped in a greeting card syndrome.
In some cities, we gather in huge numbers in special venues like New York’s Times square, London’s Trafalgar Square, Sydney harbour bridge or else in clubs and bars to drink and eat too much, and count down the seconds for the year to end. In this annual rite we also wear funny hats, blow on whistles and balloons descend from the ceilings. We stage a spectacular fire work displays (Sydney) and let off fire crackers (India and China). It’s also the time when we make promises to be better humans in a litany of lies called New Year resolutions. We had made them the previous New Year’s Eve but of course, after the hangover, reverted to our old bad habits. And then we shake hands or hug and wish each other a ‘happy new year’ in the forlorn hope that no further disasters will befall on the earth, and us.
Wherever we are, we all measure the year by the Gregorian calendar. To make life confusing for our celebrations, the Gregorian calendar was based on the Julian calendar introduced by Julius Caesar in 46 BC. Ahh, if it was all that simple. Julius in turn had reformed the Roman calendar. The Julian calendar is still followed by some societies like the Berbers of North Africa and orthodox churches. So probably they live in a time warp and they will drink to a different beat to the rest of us who celebrate January 1st by the Gregorian calendar. Pope Gregory XIII gave this to us in 1582 by a papal bull. Other people have different calendars, the Muslims the dates are by Hirja, while Tamils and Telugus have their own New Year day. As do the Chinese, Japanese and many other cultures. The earliest recorded celebration of New Year’s was in Mesopotamia in 2000 BC but that took place at the vernal equinox in mid-March.
As you can see what we have invented as New Year’s Eve, isn’t the same for everyone else. A Year is as artificial as a politician’s humanity; it just does not exist. We have created this measurement which we call ‘time’ in a universe in which time simply has no meaning. Time is our comforter, our Linus blanket, to measure our mortality. We call our earth’s rotation of the sun one day, and from there add on an arbitrary number of these days to call it a year. And we live on this planet an ‘x’ number of years which are noted down in our obituary notices. Born on, died on, RIP.
We even believe we can apply this measurement to the universe. According to our calculations, the universe we inhabit is 13.7, plus or minus 0.2, billion years old. I’ve always wondered how we not only arrived at 13.7 but also that plus or minus figure. Was someone hanging around there with a stop watch at the moment of singularity when the big bang occurred? From nothing in four or five minutes the universe came into existence and is expanding still. Someone has guessed that it’s 93 billion light years from one end to the other. Okay, I know these measurements are supposed to be on the observation of cosmic microwave background radiation. According to all these calculations we don’t even have the comfort of living in one universe. There are, possibly, many universes out there, all needing someone to measure their ages in what we call time.
Humans never allow reality to mar their enjoyment, so we celebrate this artifice of passing time in our many different ways. For some reason, at the midnight hour, apart from toasting and blowing whistles, we sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ or at least a version of the Robert Burns’ poem. In Scotland where New Year’s eve and the New Year’s Day, Hogmanay, are more important events that even Christmas. A moment past midnight, a dark handsome man carrying a lump of coal and burnt muffin must cross the threshold to bring the house luck. While the Japanese celebrate with Bonenkai, ‘forget-the-year’ parties which sounds very much like hitting the delete key on my computer. At midnight, the Buddhist temples strike the gong 108 times to expel the 108 human weaknesses. I had no idea we had so few. The Spanish eat 12 grapes at midnight in the hope they’ll have 12 good months ahead of them. I would’ve thought 12 bottles of excellent Spanish wine would have been a better guarantee for good luck.
But even Scrooge, by the story’s end, was converted into believing in Christmas. We need the ‘New Year’ to mourn and celebrate the passing of what we define as time in our life spans. I’ll succumb and wish everyone a great New Year.
Discuss
Tell a friend
Bury
Marathikatta.com - A community for true maharashtrians and mumbaikars! Register, read, write, vote, comment and make friends! Forward this to all your friends and make it popular!
Comments