The New Year (for me) brings with it an insane rush for original calendars. Having always been partial to calendars, journals and diaries, I love the mad scramble at the end of every year to book in the calendars for the next. It was the same this year. While my father ambled along peacefully, collecting his three pocket diaries for maintaining sundry accounts for the year, I had all but kicked up storms in the stationery shops searching for the elusive, perfect diary that danced just out of reach.
The complimentary products that advertised a company or service in bold letters always found their way home. And so they did, this year. Often filled with religious pictures, advertising the local medical shop or the corner grocers, these calendars arrived one too many. The gods smiled down benignly, each a testimony to the artist who had painstakingly got the features right. But none of these will hold my interest, by and large just adorning the walls of my house, and never coming closer to my personal work desk.
Each January, I rush to get the perfect calendar that will sit at my desk for the rest of the year, and though it may not arrive until later in the month, the elusive calendar will find its way to me in some random form. The best calendars thus far have been gifted by friends, sometimes purchased on off chances at places I’d just visited randomly, always appearing as a by-product of some other event, and never when actually searched for.
Ten days into the year, the spot on my desk is still empty, and when it comes, the calendar will warrant a separate blog post by itself, complete with pictures!