New Year was once synonymous with excitement and anticipation. The joy of receiving New Year greeting cards, diaries, and calendars was unmatched—it was a season of celebration and connection.

Recently, while rummaging through old papers, I stumbled upon a bundle of greeting cards from years past. Some were left overs of cards  printed by us to share with family and friends, while others were received from loved ones.

Each card involved trips to Archies to select the perfect ones. Later, the RBI provided beautifully printed cards for its employees to send to their professional and personal contacts—a well-appreciated PR exercise that also saved us the expense of buying cards.

All these cards carried heartfelt, personalized messages for family and friends. Writing these messages was a cherished ritual. Receiving a card with just a signature, however, felt like "lazy courtesy" to me. Unlike today’s quick emojis, we took the time to write real words and sentiments.

Every card received was proudly displayed around the house before being carefully stored, treasured for the personal touch they carried.

Shopping had its own excitement during this season, as commercial establishments and banks gave out free calendars and diaries. As children, we eagerly collected these, sometimes to the irritation of our parents, who faced the challenging task of finding ways to repurpose the surplus.

Calendars with pictures of deities were particularly problematic, as religious sentiments were attached to them, making it difficult to discard or repurpose them without thought.

The arrival of the first diary and calendar of the year was another highlight. I vividly remember writing my New Year resolutions in bold letters on the first page of my diary, full of hope and determination.

Diaries served many purposes—some held inspiring quotes, others the lyrics of favorite songs, and a few became journals. Yet, by the end of the year, most entries were limited to the first few pages.

These pages were later torn out, and the old diaries repurposed as rough books for the children of our daily helpers, as the cycle of anticipation began anew.

Calendars, too, came in all shapes and sizes, each with its own charm. Huge wall calendars were flipped month by month, each page revealing a new picture

. Single-sheet calendars with months stapled at the bottom had their own ritual—tearing off the previous month’s page on the first day of the new one, often accompanied by mixed emotions. Table calendars adorned desks, adding charm to study and workspaces.

Small single-sheet calendars were slipped under the glass of tables, while pocket diary-cum-calendars accompanied us everywhere. Occasionally, the surplus of calendars led to a mission to redistribute or creatively repurpose them.

Calendars with pictures of deities held a special place in pooja rooms, often receiving offerings of incense and prasad, and were rarely discarded. Some earned a permanent spot on the walls, framed and revered, while old picture calendars were cleverly reused as book covers.

Bold-numbered calendars served as day-to-day planners, marked with milk deliveries, maids’ leaves, and family birthdays.

The sight of haphazardly hung calendars was a quintessential feature of Indian homes. Designing and distributing them was a meticulous task that added to the charm of New Year preparations. But today, the smartphone has taken over these roles—managing schedules, reminders, and even greetings with a simple tap.

Diaries, calendars, and New Year greeting cards have become relics of the past, nostalgic reminders of a time when our connections and traditions were tangible and deeply personal.

HNY Dr AL Sharada, Trustee, PopulationFirst