New Year resolutions — dreams made to break
What makes resolutions so fragile? Perhaps itis the allure of instant gratification, the comforting thought that tomorrow is another day to restart. Maybe it is the seductive whisper of ‘You’ve earned this cheat day’. Or maybe, just maybe, it is the realisation that life’s little indulgences – be it a samosa or a missed walk – are what make it worth living.
By P Nagarjuna Rao
The New Year brings with it a contagious optimism, a belief that the slate can be wiped clean, and this time, we will stick to our resolutions. And so, I begin every year with a grand plan, armed with resolve and enthusiasm. Chief among my goals is the eternal battle with the weighing scale. Tipping at 65 kilos, my dream weight of 55 seems tantalisingly close – until the samosas, ras malais or kalakhand, and my beloved’s persuasive ‘Just one won’t hurt!’ reasoning appear on the scene.
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The plan starts with precision. My trusty LCHF (Low Carb, High Fat) diet promises to be the magic bullet. Out go the carbs; in come the millets, nuts, coconut oil, and all things keto-friendly. I vow to shed at least 10 kilos this year, just lije I vowed last year and the year before that… The first few weeks are exhilarating – my medium-sized shirts start fitting again, and I strut around feeling triumphant. But then comes life. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, and festivals – every celebration is a landmine of irresistible indulgences.
The undoing of the 10,000-step promise
Another classic resolution is my daily walk – a brisk 10,000 steps. Armed with fitness apps and a determination to hit the park at sunrise, I set out, imagining the pounds melting away. It works for a while; even the smart watch cheers me on with its celebratory buzz. But soon, the ‘It’s too cold to walk today’ or ‘I will make up for it tomorrow’ excuses start creeping in. Before I know it, the steps dwindle to a casual saunter from the sofa to the fridge.
Reading one book a week
This one always feels achievable. After all, I enjoy reading, and the bookshelf is groaning under the weight of unread classics and shiny new bestsellers. The first book is devoured in record time, and the second follows soon after. But then a Netflix series or movie beckons, the mobile phone notifications become more interesting, and suddenly, the books are back to gathering dust.
The temple visits and spiritual resolve
I also resolve to visit the temple every week – to find a spiritual anchor amid life’s chaos. The first couple of weeks are serene; the calming chants and the aroma of incense offer a meditative escape. But then chores, errands, and laziness conspire, and the temple visits dwindle to special occasions or festivals.
Reality checks in the wardrobe
Now, the bittersweet relationship with my wardrobe. Tucked away in a corner are my ‘just in case’ clothes – small-sized shirts and jeans measuring 30 at the waist. I dream of slipping into them effortlessly, flaunting a leaner version of myself. For a brief period, it feels achievable, as the medium-sized shirts fit like a glove. But before the euphoria can settle, the dreaded large-sized clothes make a comeback. It’s a humbling moment, a reality check that sometimes, dreams remain dreams.
When resolutions lose their resolve
What makes resolutions so fragile? Perhaps itis the allure of instant gratification, the comforting thought that tomorrow is another day to restart. Maybe it is the seductive whisper of ‘You’ve earned this cheat day’. Or maybe, just maybe, it is the realisation that life’s little indulgences – be it a samosa or a missed walk – are what make it worth living.
As I gear up for another January, I know the cycle will repeat. But that’s the beauty of resolutions – they’re a hopeful promise we make to ourselves, even if we break them. And who knows, maybe this year, I will stick to one. Or maybe I will just invest in a good tailor who can keep altering my wardrobe!
