One more 31st, and another year rolls by.

I am pushed—rather firmly—by K and V to dust off this blog and make an entry (which now seems mandatory). In the age of Insta reels, Facebook stories, and LinkedIn posts, over the last ten days I’ve consumed an endless stream of year-end reflections, learnings, and resolutions by what feels like everyone in the world. Writing one for myself suddenly feels like a Bigg boss task.

Still, I’ll give it a try—because sometimes it’s not just about you; it’s also about those who look forward to it.

So, let’s start.

Another year has passed. It feels like just another roll-up of 365 days or 52 weekends. The same old madness—fog and flu in winters, extreme heat and inverter issues in summers, excessive rains with Gurgaon’s pothole-and-no-drain roads, and then back again to AQI woes to wrap up the year.

Sometimes nothing changes. Other than Pakistan celebrating wars they never won, doing bhangra at every additional IMF loan they take, and watching Indian flicks on pirated torrents. That’s probably why they rank so much higher on the happiness index—and maybe we should learn from them: whenever life gives you lemons, make a mojito… or Karachi’s now-famous doodh soda out of it.

That said, even the most repetitive script movie has a few beautiful moments. This year had plenty of those.

It’s Chantu and Bantu’s growing-up years that make everything else in life worth it. Their smiles are priceless. Their “I’m very smart” acting—while not knowing we’ve all been that age—is a quiet, secret joy. And watching them cope with their own little struggles, in their own little worlds, is simply beautiful.

Chantu, this year, left chess, picked up a vague addictive pixelated game, got fixated on badminton, followed it up with tennis, and finally landed in full-blown obsession with table tennis. He’ll be entering his teens in the coming year, and we’re all bracing ourselves for the surprises ahead. But he truly is one gem of a guy.

Bantu, on the other hand, seems to have read almost every book written for American kids his age and constantly surprises us with his sarcasm, slang, and slapstick humour. I loved the posters he created, the company he founded for household chores at $50/hour, and his fascination with creating really cool stories. I’m certain both of them will turn out to be fine gentlemen—and far better than all of us—in the years to come.

Apart from mall trips and birthday lunches at Gurgaon’s ever-sprouting food joints, the highlight trip of the year was to the south—Rameswaram, Madurai, and Dhanushkodi, the farthest point on Indian shores. It was a special time together with the tribe.

Personally, like the rest of the world, I wasted a generous amount of time watching reels, buying books, reading fewer of them, and getting inspired by Punjabi songs across genres.

My heartfelt gratitude to K—for bearing with me all these years. Trust me, it’s not easy, and I genuinely don’t know how she does it. Smile more, K—it’s always a better option.

S and V, thank you for being there for each other and for stepping up on not-so-good days. While S was super busy making his own reels at work this year, when it comes to kids, he is the best anyone could ask for.

For Mom and Dad, I only wish tones of good health, love, smiles, and happy times together in the coming year. Their happiness sets the vibe for all the cherished moments at home. Always grateful.

And last but not the least, gratitude to everyone—at home, in office, and friends—who smiled, helped, listened, joked, and added that human touch on days when all you could hear was noise around tech, AI, machines, and real estate (especially if you live in GGN).

Here’s hoping for a better year.
A healthier year.
A more smiling year.
Moments that make you feel proud, loved, and human.

Happy New Year to all of you.

Jai Ram Ji Ki. & Uma Parvati Pati Har Har Mahadev