The ring tone reminded me, if anything had to, that it’s almost Christmas. In a world driven by technology, what could be more appropriate, you wonder, as you hum along with a tinny Jingle Bells, almost hoping the person at the end won’t answer so you can keep humming.
Like most festivals in India, Christmas is celebrated with regional flavour. In our childhood, we were in the rightest place in India to be at during Christmas: Calcutta. The central circle of New Market, the original and famous Sir Stuart Hogg Market — not the New New Market — turned into a sort of fairyland. Sort of, because among all the artificial trees, green and white, amidst the boxes of twinkling streamers and bobbing baubles, frenetic haggling reminded you that you were still far from Santa Land, wherever that was.Today, I know a little better. The Finns claim he is a Finn. The Swedes say, he is theirs.
Ma and I would pick up a tree if ours, made of bottle brushes, had really lived its life. Otherwise, in a great example of re-use economy, we would only buy the streamers and baubles that invariably never lasted past a few years.
The flavour of any festival is literally what you munch on. And so, we headed for New Market’s Fiardeal stores, the front lined with jars and jars of barley sugar and mints. The barley sugar bars were virtually intolerably sweet after the first minute, but it was difficult for any child to accept this bitter reality! The next stop was for packets of dry fruit. And then, it was a long haul back home. But that distance made Christmas more special.
Of course, Kolkata had some of the best plum cakes. And they often came home. Like Abdul, the baker who rolled up on his bicycle with the most lip-smacking creations, fresh from his bakery. Or Aunty Cecilia, who didn’t need the extra money but drove herself into a bit of a frenzy meeting orders from friends for her home-made cakes.
As we grew up, Christmas came closer home. Our very Bengali neighbourhood was soon green with synthetic Christmas trees. We wouldn’t have to travel so far any more. But ironically, Christmas shopping was never the same.
Today, artificial Christmas trees are available virtually across the country. Better communications have brought some joys closer. Now, one gathers, the choir from Dr Graham’s Homes, Kalimpong, is a regular winter feature in Kolkata. The world famous Mizo choir was in Delhi the other day. As a group, they’re quite the songbirds of India. Today, happily for most of us who enjoy music, there are Mizo choirs in various cities across the country, like in Hyderabad.
The first time I saw a ‘real’ Christmas tree was in my childhood. My uncle and aunt, the latter a Christian, would turn their living room into a magical Santa land with their potted coniferous tree done up so beautifully. They cared for it all year and in fact, had a row of them in their home in hot and humid Kolkata! In an increasingly urban jungle, this group of evergreens invited bulbuls to nest in them.
The first time I saw a ‘real’ chopped Christmas tree was, ironically, in a different room in the same house when a cousin called us in to see their ‘real’ Christmas tree. For some of us, it is difficult to understand what joy one can get from decorating an uprooted coniferous tree that is barely seven years old and soon droops and has to be pitched out unceremoniously with the garbage to line an already over-dumped landfill.
With it, you uproot the home and habitat of dozens of insects, squirrels and perhaps even birds. As it deteriorates, it turns the soil acidic and releases uncalled for amounts of carbon into the atmosphere. Perhaps, one Christmas, we should have gifted them a ‘real’ and rooted confier in a tub that they could have used for years. Ah, hindsight!
If you need to be reminded that creativity has no limits, search the Net for the ‘recycled’ Christmas tree made of green soft drink cans. May not be inspiring, but refreshing it certainly is.
Amrita Sharma (name changed) taught in a Dehradun school. She was adored by her students, aged about eight. Her word was gospel truth to them. One day, something she said threw the class into a huge quandary. Santa Claus does not exist, she told them. The class got divided into two: those who believed in Santa and the majority who believed Sharma.
Who is right? Several educationists and psychiatrists believe, a little magic, whether it be Santa, the tooth fairy, or Son Pari, never harmed anyone, child or adult, as long as it does not reinforce superstition or tear the child away from everyday reality.
Confirmed senior consultant neuropsychiatrist Dr Sanjay Chugh, “It helps kids retain their sense of wonder and their contact with goodness while, at the same time, learning a lot of positive values, internalising and imbibing these.” It’s not the gift alone that matters to the child but the thought of who brought it.
Santa’s got e-savvy. We emailed him, in the year dot. The other day, I clicked on the site and he still remembers that we live in India. Never mind telling technology, the child in me did a little leap of joy! If you’re looking for magical moments this season, check out sites like http://www.emailsanta.com/ and http://www.northpole.com.
There are no golden rules on parenting and things magical, and neither set of parents across the Santa divide is right or wrong. But it may be a little more considerate not to bung our views on those who differ.
Me? Well, Santa may not bring me anything any more, but the thought that this is the season of giving leaves you with a warm feeling to think of the elves and reindeer getting busy as it snows in the Arctic Circle! It’s time for the Santa in each one of us to gear up to give a little, perhaps?
BS
...goes a long way
The approach of Christmas has proved a thought provoking time for me this year. My parents are thousands of kilometres distant, in Europe. And, as I grew up, being together as a family unit always took precedence over the religious aspect of the festival. Spending Advent apart from them, in Bangalore, has helped me reflect on the way in which Christmas is celebrated, both here and elsewhere.
For years, critics have been voicing concerns that Christmas in the UK has become too commercialised. Certainly, when you head to a British shopping mall during late October and see displays already making references to Christmas, it’s difficult to argue too vehemently against such assertions. Of course, Christmas is not the only festival to fuel consumerism. As I clicked through a selection of online news reports, here in India in early December, I noticed a story bringing attention to the staggering debts that some people had amassed during the run up to Diwali. Change the name of the festival and, post-Christmas, very similar reports will be published in Europe.
Apart from gift giving — an act that people can justify with a reference to the Magi and their offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh to the baby Jesus — it’s interesting to reflect that few of the aspects now popularly associated with a traditional Christmas have much to do with event at the heart of the festival. Snow scenes, a bearded man in a red suit and decorated conifers are just as much, perhaps more, part of the popular perception of Christmas. What have they got to do with the Bethlehem of 2000 years ago?
Despite my uncertainty as to why I was doing it, I have to admit to putting up a Christmas tree inside of my house. Just a few days ago, a friend who imports novelty items from China brought me a plastic Christmas tree and a sack full of baubles. It now stands decorated and sparkling in my front room. The best part of erecting the tree was that a dozen of us, from around the world, came together and had a lot of fun in hanging the ornaments.
Get togethers are very much a part of the pre-Christmas experience. Said to be ‘the season of peace and good will’, even rivals for promotion and feuding adversaries come under pressure to spend an evening together at office Christmas parties in the UK. The hatchet may be only temporarily buried, but, in that time, it’s likely that a handful of drinks will be sunk.
I have to say, it’s been wonderful to have received invitations to parties thrown by American and German families here in Bangalore. Interestingly, the event organised by the Americans was termed a ‘Holiday Party’ rather than a ‘Christmas Party’. But I could tell — by the decorated tree and the pictures of Santa Claus — that reason for calling the party was the festival with Christian origins. The Germans, I learned, invite people to Adventskaffee — to spend time together, to drink coffee and to eat home-baked cakes and biscuits — on the Sundays preceding Christmas. One candle is lit on the first Sunday of Advent and additional candles are lit in the weeks that follow.
One of the advantages of living in a cosmopolitan city such as Bangalore is that Christmas parties inevitably lead to discussions on how people celebrate back at home. It’s interesting to hear Keralites, Goans, Canadians, Americans, Germans, Spaniards and Australians swapping stories about what they do for Christmas. While most nationalities celebrate on 25th December, it is interesting to hear from the Germans that the evening of the 24th is their big day and that the Spanish are more inclined to celebrate the 6th January, Three Kings Day. Who would have thought that Europeans would have to come to India in order to gain clearer insights into their respective Christmas celebrations?
Despite all that I’ve learned about how people celebrate Christmas, it remains, for me, first and foremost, a holiday that is all about family. Nothing quite matches being together and having eye contact with family members on the occasion of a major festival. And that’s something I’ll be missing this year.
Season’s Greetings!
SF
