New Year. Winning Resolutions.

It’s a special time of the year – and not just because of the profusion of twinkly lights, Santa hats and cinnamon-scented goodies. It’s special because the end of December always brings the promise of a new beginning. Of a clean start. 

A bit like the first day of school when we were children, and our bags were packed with crisp, neatly covered books and pointy pencils. When we decided that this year our work would be impeccable, and our handwriting neat. Of course, three weeks later the books were inevitably dog-eared and filled with scribbles and scratches. But for those first few days we revealed in their newness and possibilities.

Similarly, as the New Year approaches, I get busy organising my life. First the new diary, with the important dates marked in red. (School holidays, music school exams, extra classes — and just occasionally an engagement of my own). Then a new calendar to brighten up my desk. And — of course — my new year resolutions.

At lunchtime I broach the topic with my three daughters. It’s the first day of the Christmas holidays and everyone is relaxed. “Let’s make our new year resolutions,” I suggest and then wait expectantly. I’m hoping for some life-changing proclamations in the region of “We will do our homework as soon as we step into the house”. Or “We will start eating tendli, doodhi, karela and baingan with glee and gusto”.

Instead Aaliya — who is 13 and knows it — announces, “I will be more proactive about posting on Instagram for my friends’ birthdays.”

Huh? What? Even in this age of social media, surely this is not the most important transformation that Aaliya wants to engineer? If I were a rotund, mustachioed father in a Hindi film I would have shouted, “Namumkeen. Bewakoof.” 

Instead, I restrict myself to blinking and wondering if Aaliya’s a trifle tipsy on holiday-happiness. 

Nisha and Naima, my 11-year-olds, clearly are. They’re giggling over their pasta and litchi juice. “My new year resolution’s easy,” Nisha announces. “I will eat soup.”

“And I,” Naima chimes in, “will eat juice.”

The twins collapse into hysterics, but Aaliya is sitting fork poised mid-air and planning her next year. “I will take more pictures of myself in interesting locations,” she decides. “I will use more filters. I will try to go to more parties. But, of course, I’ll have to get invited.”

This conversation’s not going as I had imagined it would. So I try to lead the way. “Naima, maybe you should try and be less stressed about sleep,” I suggest. “A little less agitated.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Naima shrugs. “So what’s the point of making a resolution that we know I can’t keep? Anyway, I’m not the resolu-ey type.”

“Oh,” I say, stumped for a reply, “Nisha, what about you?”

“Okay, I’ll be nicer to my gremlinish sisters,” Nisha says after some thought. “But it’s not yet the New Year, so I can be mean now.”

By this point Aaliya has floated off to another room so it’s only 24 hours later that we resume the conversation. “Aaliya, surely you should make one good resolution for the next year?” I persevere. “Surely you want to change something?”

Aaliya looks at me with bored eyes. “I made one good one yesterday,” she says, shrugging. “Not about Instagram or anything. But now I’ve forgotten.”

“So then how will you remember it for all of 2017?” I start remonstrating before tailing off. 

“Fight battles you have a chance of winning,” I tell myself. And realise that it sounds like the perfect resolution for me.