Parents decided to celebrate the New Year despite the lockdown (13/4/2020). However, no firecrackers announcing the auspicious times were heard in our neighbourhood this year.

My father had brought a kiri muttiya when he went out on a delivery run. We supply goods to hospitals so unfortunately we are an essential service and my father who’s past 60 (does not look his age though) has to risk leaving the safety of home.

After the lighting of the stove to boil milk for the new year and what felt like an eternity later the milk bubbled over signifying that the new year has begun.

We had a very sparse looking New Year spread this time. However, mother managed to bake a butter cake, we also had the seeni murukku I helped my mother prepare earlier, and ofcourse kiribath with lunumiris. The table looked awfully lonely without bananas, they always seemed to complete the spread.

I never make wishes for any New Year, not even on my birthday. Whatever happens to you has already been pre-planned so what’s the point of making a wish?

Everyday that passes by makes me feel more and more stagnant. Like I’m stuck in thick murky swampy mud and the more time passes the more I lose the strength to keep wading through. I think I’m only a few steps away from sinking.

The New Year meal devoid of kokis and kavum.

2 thoughts on “7:17pm

  1. Seeni murukku looks delicious. (May or may not have googled it…)

    The New Year always feels a bit of a drag and empty, to be honest. “The New Year” by Death Cab for Cutie seems like an apt song. I hope next year’s has bananas, and I hope the sinking feeling either reverses or at least pauses…


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