“Silent night, holy
night”, we sang in chorus shattering the silence of the wet and cold Christmas
night in Madras over 30 years ago. My throat was sore after singing “Joy to the world” at the top of my voice
to wake up the carol weary but faithful church members. Our songs surely had
the desired effect. Doors opened and we were given a warm welcome and the chukku kappi soothed our sore throats. Our
carols even woke up the neighbours from other faiths, who gladly invited us in
and treated us to home-cooked goodies in the unearthly hours. Our hired vans
ferried us faithfully throughout the night right up to the wee hours of the
day. We would encounter vans carrying Ayyappa devotees on their pilgrimage and
shout halleluiahs to them and they would greet us back with Swami Saranam…
Christmas also brings back memories of the greeting cards
that we used to pick up from CLS – that was THE default stop for buying those
lovely hallmark cards. Inserting them into their respective pastel shade envelopes,
affixing the postage stamps and inscribing Book – Post on the top …those were rituals long forgotten…
But, it was the hand painted greeting cards that I miss very
much today. Dad and I drew the pictures of the Nativity scene, Santa Claus and
all the assorted Christmas paraphernalia on the neatly cut chart papers. I used
to do the artwork and Dad used to write the greeting verses inside the cards in
his inimitable calligraphy…
Christmas was also the time for shopping – boy what fun it
was. Off to Moore market to hard bargain and acquire quaint Christmas knick-knacks.
And to Madharsha’s in Purasawalkam and Managarams in Parry’s corner for the
clothes. My mother would meticulously select the fabric for all of us. Then it
is taking the bus to T. Nagar N-Master tailors on Usman road for the tailoring. Unwrapping
the crisp white papers to reveal the impeccably tailored and neatly folded, shirts
and trousers, taking in the fresh fragrance and the boyish excitement of wearing
them on Christmas eve….
And who can forget the drool worthy Mundri-kothu, Rose
cookies, Diamond cuts and murukku all lovingly prepared by my grandmother. On
Christmas day it was always Viveekam for breakfast. The humble idly with a dash
of yeast and lots of nuts and raisins would be magically transformed into the
sweetest Viveekam. The snacks were all
neatly placed on covered trays and delivered to all our neighbours and they would
return it the next day filled up with some of their own preparations….
Christmas trees meant casuarina branches freshly cut from various
locations and tied on to dad’s bicycle and transported to our home. It was only
crepe paper streamers and old greeting cards that was used to decorate the
trees. White soft cotton strewn across the trees to simulate visions of snow
covered pine trees…
Christmas stars were hand crafted in bamboo by Dad. I would
cut the colour cellophane papers which Dad would then paste onto the bamboo
frames. A tungsten filament bulb emitting yellowish light will be gingerly
lowered into the hollow of the bamboo and paper star and lo and behold a
bright, shining, multi coloured star is ready!
“Dad, see if this is
OK!” This shrill voice from my daughter woke me up from my reverie …she was
adjusting the plastic star on top of the Chinese made Christmas tree dazzling with
fibre optic LED lights. I nodded in appreciation.
For, how could I ever tell her that it fades in comparison
to the bamboo and paper star that Dad and I had together hand-crafted or the casuarina
tree with its humble crepe paper decorations outshone the golden hue of the filigree
ornaments now hanging from the artificial tree?
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