Recounting the ‘midnight madness’ of New Year’s Eve

When the bells all ring and the horns all blow

And the couples we know are fondly kissing

Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?

The popular song goes on to ask “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” just in case “you” are free and the singer stands a chance! Today, both would have a plethora of events to choose from to figure out what they are doing on New Year’s Eve.

Some members of the Christian community attend Thanksgiving Services, which aimed at crediting higher powers for the year gone by and to beseech the same powers to fix whatever is broken in the world and make things better in the forthcoming year. Some visit elder relatives or even bring in the New Year at the homes for the aged.

And then, they party.

Party on the house

Back in the day — the last millennium, actually — we had few choices. In our middle-class, middle-income families, we organised our own house parties. A relic of the British Raj survives in the naming of these get-togethers, which used to be known as ‘pound parties’. As you can see, it pre-dates the decimal system and we could not possibly call them half-kilo parties, could we? These parties were hastily put together by families who wanted to celebrate the end of year together, usually with young children who would not be admitted to the New Year’s Ball, or with teenagers who preferred the privacy of the home to engage in some permitted romance. Everyone brought a ‘pound’ of something to eat and shared it with everyone else. The house parties created space for slightly salacious party games. Some rooms were reserved for the babies to fall asleep and some for the adults to sneak in a bottle of brewed beverage. Orange squash, chips and chanachur ruled the rest of the party. Music was provided by the radiogram or, in later years, the ‘Two-in-One’.

Then, close to midnight, there was a kind of hush that descended. Foghorns filled the air. Ships that were moored in the Hooghly made their presence felt (there used to be ships on the Hooghly). The midnight hour was heralded by a minute’s countdown and a yell of “Happy New Year” as everyone wished everyone else. And then, I remember very clearly, the family was united in prayer for a brief moment.

Going up in smoke

In our Goan Association parties there was another tradition — that of burning the Old Man symbolising the previous year. Clothing donated and straw stuffing, reminiscent of Guy Fawkes, he used to burn at the corner of Wellesley and Marquis Street, near the Association’s premises, while adults and kids danced around the fire. Crackers went off too — the sound pollution board was yet to be imagined.

Note: Readers who have never experienced this piece of history may contact one of us “oldies” for a slice of nostalgia — or ask Google.

But evolution took place and everyone started monkeying around, celebrating New Year’s Eve like it was going out of style. As we grew, we started attending slightly fancier house parties — BYOB parties where you bring your own ‘beverages’, and leave with more than you brought, were common among the glitterati or even the illiterati. On offer was wine, cheese and a dainty, microscopic snack that made you wish you’d eaten dinner earlier.

Band Chronicles: Then and Now 

The Battle of the Bands was and still is a feature of NYE. Some bands were formed overnight just for the season, sometimes patched together based on who signs you up first, and some formed with a bit of horse-trading, a word we picked up from politics with the same meaning. The good old days of multi-piece bands, saxophones, trumpets, and the grand piano — Micky Fernandes, Tommy Menezes and their Orchestras - gave way to smaller outfits with electronic instruments. Four-piece, three-piece and even one-piece bands get gigs for NYE.

There is a New Year’s Eve Night or Ball in every organised social club, star hotel or pub in the city. All of them advertise great action, star emcees, choice of bands and the loudest, most pulsating disc jockeys, or DJs as they say. You’re spoilt for choice.

Freedom at midnight

The midnight session is the big decider these days. Most events have the countdown to midnight, some provide hats, hooters, masks and other noise makers to make midnight memorable. Lights are turned off, the music is turned up and a few inebriated dudes get turned on, wishing everyone from friend to foe, in the dark! Once the wishing is done, the Scottish influence helps us belt out Auld Lang Syne though not with the auld words, for sure! And then it’s time for some unbridled fun.

The best emcees and bands lead the crowd in singing and dancing, often with a conga line which weaves its way between the tables. This is followed by action songs — the Hokey Pokey in its various language adaptations, the Birdie Dance, the Mexican Shuffle and all the kiddie action stuff we relive with Bring Back my Bonnie to Me and a little strenuous exercise with Heads-Shoulders-Knees-and-Toes which are difficult to touch or even see for some of the good ol’ beer bellies.

Talking about beer, the full-bellied singing is not to be left behind. The midnight session includes good old Brit war leftovers like Roll out the Barrel, Coming Round the Mountain (from the early stagecoach days), the Happy Wanderer (Valderi, Valdera) and When the Saints Go Marching In (for that slight gospel flavour). Total confusion born of unfamiliarity with the musical genre writ large on their faces, modern day revellers cluelessly enjoy themselves nevertheless as the older folk bestow knowing and benign smiles.

The morning after the night before

As the parties draw to a close — some as early as midnight plus 30 minutes, some a little later around 2am based on excise laws — we recall the days when NYE parties went long into the NY itself. A few left at first light with the first tram or even walked to their homes, some hailed taxis out to make a quick buck. The bands played on, the music got soppier and more romantic, and eventually the tired, dishevelled and highly pumped-up group wound its way to Tiretti Bazaar for the first Chinese breakfast of the year!

The author is a Goan living in Kolkata and a learning and development consultant who plays music, writes blogs and teaches whenever he can.