New Year Musings

— 23 January 2026 —

New Year Musings

~ Shivani Chaudhry ~

Another year rolls in—yes, the earth completes one more revolution around the sun—and the world celebrates this ‘new year’. Not entirely sure what we’re celebrating. The fact that we endured another year of genocide, grief, war, hunger, disease, discrimination, inequality, indifference, rising fascism, dictatorships disguised as democracies, punctured promises? Or the unfailing sunrise every morning, the strength to find hope among shards of shattered dreams, the ability to phoenix from ashes of heartbreak, the burgundy bud blooming in a desert of devastation?

A progressive candidate winning an election in an oligarchic landscape, the millions marching for peace in contentious climes, the expansion of transnational solidarity. Striated sunsets, skin-soaking monsoon showers, the magical balm in kids’ hugs that simultaneously soothes body, mind, spirit. Stupendous sunflowers from an anonymous admirer, steaming chai on stormy evenings, the unshakeable comfort of your grandmother’s shawl.

The employee calling out a multinational for its insidious support of war crimes, the whistleblower exposing subversive surveillance systems, the diplomat forfeiting an illustrious career to shun genocidal complicity, the tenured professor resigning from an acclaimed university for its hypocrisy.

Bubbling laughter of infants, hot food on the table, silver moonlight on ebony waters. The unexpressed longing of dusk, the lingering kiss that felt too short, the stranger’s embrace that felt warmer than that of unrecognizable friends. 

Justice seekers who refuse to be silenced by sanctions, truth tellers who risk repressive repercussions for speaking out, the grit of immigrants to build better wherever they are. Silent acts of civil disobedience by conscience-driven individuals, student efforts for divestment despite threats of expulsion, the poems that stir souls and slide into hardened hearts.

Raindrops on tender green leaves, amber butterflies on a grey afternoon, white kites against an enflamed sky—circling in spirals of hopeful liberation. Rhythms of resistance that defy the din of jingoism, melodies that melt borders, words that build bridges, hearts that convert contempt into compassion.

Youngsters who dodge bullets while demonstrating against despotism, the musician who loses all label deals for singing truth to power, the lone girl who stands with a Palestinian flag at the street corner for 365 continuous days—unfazed by censure. Children who reshape rubble into rainbows, women who weave tapestries of tenacity with bleeding fingers, soldiers who won’t fire at civilians.

Your daughter’s first gold medal that’s more precious than any jewellery, your son’s artwork that feels more priceless than anything in the Louvre, your mother’s cooking that tastes more heavenly than any dish in a Michelin-starred restaurant. Smiles in the souls of dancing children, unsung ballads in the eyes of lovers, the embers that refuse to extinguish, the sparks that dream of turning into flames.

The infallibility of light, the inescapability of joy, the intrepidity of faith, the incontestability of love, the inexorability of beauty, the ineluctability of tomorrow...

Yes. Amidst all the agony and angst, despite the distress and despondency, there are a million, no, over eight billion reasons to celebrate life—its beauty and benevolence, its magic and miracles, its restorative and regenerative power. Each life, a sparkle of hope. Even presumably misaligned, misled, misinformed beings carry the possibility of redemption, of course-correction, of alchemizing into starlight. And we all know—especially those who have lived intensely and traversed the steepest mountains and the deepest ditches—that there is no light without shadow, no good without evil, no hope without despair, no solace without suffering.

So, we celebrate. We pray. We dance. We dream. We hold hands. We weep, we laugh, we hug, we kiss. We cling to hope. We rest in the quiet knowing that darkness dissolves into dawn, that the tide will turn. We nurture love, bask in love. For love is all there is. Without love, we are nothing. Without love, the world is nothing.

Let 2026 be the year of love. Of finding love, even in the severest spaces; of sowing love, even in the barrenest fields; of radiating love, even in the harshest environments; of showering love, even on shuttered hearts; of being love, even on the unkindest days. Being love. Yes, just being love. Because unless we are love, we can’t hope for the world to be love or give love. May 2026 overflow with love. May this be the year that the world embraces love, expands love, exudes love.  

*****

[Above photograph—sunrise over the Andaman Sea (2006)—by Shivani Chaudhry]