From festivals to forgetfulness: We betray our spiritual values after celebrations end and all will be in vain if we continue to be what we were even in 2026.
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From Festivals to Forgetfulness: How We Betray Our Spiritual Values after Celebrations End
Finally, 2026 has descended upon us, signaling the end of festivities and the break from the annual humdrum of living. It will take time for work to resume and for the rhythm of life to sync with the tick-tocks of the clock. Since India remains basically agricultural, now that one set of festivities is done with, another will begin, with numerous communities preparing to celebrate their New Years to the rhythm of Mother Nature’s renewal. In this, India is joined by the rest of Asia—not just in terms of the agricultural calendar, but also religions that are rooted in the land. So we will soon have Losar and Bihu and similar festivities across the country.
It is amazing how spirituality is so intrinsically linked to Mother Nature’s seasonal manifestations, and how the puny human being acknowledges her supremacy in ways we feel best celebrate her. Despite extremely limited understanding and the wherewithal to scientifically explain the wonders of the world, our early ancestors instinctively knew that it is Mother Nature who sustains us with her bounty, and that she knows exactly what and when we need it; hence, she adapts herself to provide our daily bread.
In a matter of weeks, the planting season will begin, so it is only right that we pray to Mother Nature for her munificence, so that we are blessed with a rich harvest later in the year. Therefore, when new green shoots emerge from the earth, we know that a new year has begun, and we show our gratitude with joyful community celebrations. We sing, dance, share food and drinks, and make merry, for we know that the new green shoots will need tending until they are harvested, and that requires community effort. Instinctively, we also know that none of us can live isolated lives, so while we live very different lives today, still, once a year we gather to pray and celebrate. There is peace and goodwill toward humankind at such celebrations and festivities. If only this peace and goodwill lasted uninterrupted and undisrupted, perhaps our blessings, our abundance, our joy and harmony would treble and our lives would be a cup that runs over always.
Unfortunately, once the festivities, feasts and celebrations, the songs and dances, once the prayers, preaching and pujas are done, and once the new clothes are worn, stained or torn, we go back to lives we stubbornly refuse to regret—and if we do regret, history records why and how it is too late and irreparable—thus the cycle repeats. Would 2026 be a repeat of the centuries humankind has lived through? Spirituality guides us to care, give and share, which are best manifested at numerous festivals and celebrations, but once they are done, what happens to our spirituality? What happens to the generosity of our hearts? What happens to the tenets of the varied and various religions we claim to subscribe to and prayerfully celebrate?
Year after year, we compartmentalise our lives into the religious, spiritual, social, cultural, political and economic, fragmenting our existence—never fully an amalgamation of all these dimensions that make a full-fledged human being. At best, we give unto God what is His and to Caesar the rest, but cross the line every so often; this manifests in a boiling cauldron of divisions, hate, racism, bigotry and everything that keeps taking us back over and over again.
Most New Year resolutions are personal and individualistic—why is it that we never seem to make collective, community resolutions to live and love as brothers and rewrite the history of humankind? Why is it that we cannot seem to re-script our history away from that of Cain and Abel? And if we do make collective, community resolutions, inevitably they seem to be centered on the marginalisation of those who don’t look, wear, eat, think, speak, worship and live like us. By doing so, we disregard and negate the laws and lessons of Mother Earth and of our religions and cultures.
Ironically, we celebrate Mother Nature and claim our religion and culture as the best and the true ones, yet we try to commoditise, commercialise and monetise them to attract tourists to augment the national economy—which favours only a small percentage. The disconnect among our spirituality, religions, cultures, economy, politics, national interests and Mother Nature is so stark that, unless addressed and redressed soon, a dissociative disorder may become a pandemic, like the Spanish Flu and COVID. In light of this evident disconnect, what festivals are we really celebrating by spending exorbitant amounts most of us can ill afford?
This brings us to the fact of how money- and materialism-centric our sacred and cultural celebrations and festivals have become—underscoring crass commercialisation, but for whose gain? Why do we identify—indeed, substitute—our worth as human beings with power, status and wealth? As human beings, we are much more than our wealth, status and power, yet year after year we venerate the rich and powerful as national heroes, never questioning how they amassed their wealth, but demean the indigent as a national shame, never lifting them up.
Our priorities are linked to our moral compass, ethics and character, which do not seem to have any bearing on any religion or avowed spirituality. As much as we hope, pray and supplicate to the Higher Being during religious festivals, ceremonies, rites and rituals, all is naught if, in 2026, we continue to be what we were in the years gone by. If things are not right inside us, things will also not be right outside us. As they say, there is no such thing as a free lunch. What goes around comes around.
Monalisa Changkija
(The Columnist is a Dimapur-based veteran journalist, poet and former Editor of Nagaland Page. Published in the January 4, 2026 issue of North East Now)