Until Next Year
Last Friday was the annual Varalakshmi Pooja. Every year, I enjoy the ritual even before the actual pooja begins — bringing out the Devi’s face, creating her little sanctum, arranging the flowers, and choosing the decorations and accessories around her. The preparation itself brings joy and anticipation for what is to come.
But this year, as I was decorating, another thought quietly entered my mind: everything we look forward to eventually reaches its finale.
Soon, the pooja is over. The flowers are removed, the decorations come down, and everything is carefully packed into boxes and returned to the shelf. What filled the room with color and celebration disappears, leaving behind memories — and the expectation of bringing it all out again next year.
I feel much the same way during Christmas. A fresh, fragrant tree arrives in our living room, decorations slowly fill its branches, and seasonal music hums in the background. The house seems to take on a different energy.
Then come the gifts. There is something special about wrapping them and placing them beneath the glowing tree. That joy multiplies when the grandchildren arrive, their eyes eagerly searching for the prized packages beneath the colorful lights.
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And then, almost too quickly, it is time to take the tree down.
The holidays come to a close, the decorations return to their boxes, and a New Year begins with its own possibilities and surprises.
Life offers countless versions of the same experience. Celebrations conclude, seasons pass, vacations end, and much-awaited moments become memories. Perhaps endings are not meant to diminish our joy but to remind us to appreciate the journey in between — the anticipation, preparation, laughter, rituals, people, and little moments that made it meaningful.
If celebrations never ended, perhaps we would not look forward to them quite so eagerly.
So, as I placed the Varalakshmi Pooja boxes back on the shelf this Friday, I chose to see the moment differently. Instead of feeling that something beautiful had ended, I felt grateful that I had experienced it once again.
The boxes may be back on the shelf, but the memories are not packed away with them.
And perhaps that is the beauty of saying, “Until next year.”
