25 December 2021 06:00 am Views - 387
This timeless story by Dickens is told and retold at Christmas and we are bound to discover reinterpretations of it every single time. Any which way you look at it, the moral at the core of this tale remains the same. It asks us to change and be better. Being considerate and caring is a lifelong duty which should not be confined to this season only.
Every year, around this time, my memory transports me back to my wonderful childhood where Christmas was indeed, very special. It was a simpler time devoid of excess. Commercialisation of these festivities was yet to be. There was no pressure attached to the giving of gifts and not one of the dinner parties we attended were given just to show off. The month of December had a definite pattern. It had a sequence. This was: the start of the school holidays, the preparations for going into a new class in the forthcoming year, the carol services, the nativity plays at Sunday school and the string of parties in the run up to and after Christmas day, where we met all our relations and friends. Then it was December the 31st and the countdown to New Year’s Eve which was celebrated with the obligatory fireworks. Sometimes, we attended the midnight service to dawn the new year and on other occasions my father used to drive us to Galle Face Green, from where we watched the most spectacular display of fireworks which were set off from many foreign ships that were docked in and around the Colombo harbour.
The preparations for Christmas day and the run up to it was a hectic time. My father used to purchase an enormous Christmas tree from a warehouse called Tripoli near Maradhana. The smell of those wonderful trees grown in our hill country, filled the house with what was the quintessential aroma of the festive period. My mother used to make her most delicious Christmas cake and wrap each piece individually. This was time consuming work done with lots of care. The mouth-watering smells of a cake being baked added the extra reminder that we were nearing the big day. Boxes of tinsel, baubles, ribbons, lights and a wonderful array of Victorian Christmas decorations that my mother had collected from in her childhood were taken out of the storeroom to deck the halls and the tree. New curtains were bought for the house and lots of alcohol was bought for the adults. As children, we ran around licking the mixing bowls in which my mother had made icing for other cakes. She could never hide the extra almond paste because my brothers and I were quick to take pinches of it until there was none left.
As I was the youngest, I was roped in to rolling the cutlets on the batter and breadcrumbs before they were fried. I also loved using a fork to make a decoration on the frilled edge of the pastry on the patties.
Shopping during the run up to Christmas was usually done around Cargills and Chatham street
with the usual stop for a treat at Pagoda or the Fountain House, and then we would drive to the top of Main Street, Pettah where there was a string of toy shops filled with dinky toys and the most marvellous and delectable collection of cars, aeroplanes, trains, dolls and cowboy and Indian outfits. I don’t know about anyone else, but I wanted everything! However, I was given a firm reminder by my mother who said, “Thatha will only be able to buy you one toy, so don’t ask for anything more!” I had no choice but to obey and make the most of what I received. Sometimes, I used to throw a tantrum and wailed and howled copiously but all of this fell on deaf ears. All my other unreasonable requests were written on pieces of paper which my parents supposedly posted to Santa. What was found inside a pillowcase under my bed on Christmas morning proved that Santa was going through a period of austerity himself.
As they were much older, my two brothers were savvier than I was. They just asked for one thing from my parents and got it. The Beatles who were in top-flight at that time were seen wearing polo neck t-shirts on the cover of one of their albums which set a fashion trend among those in their age group. That’s what they wanted and that’s what they got.
Other relatives who celebrated this sacred day made seasonal food that reflected their cultural backgrounds. Some aunts insisted on the traditional Christmas pudding which they used to light with great aplomb, others stuck firmly to our local Sinhalese cuisine. One of my Burgher aunts usually made a superb breudher. Two of my maternal uncles had to have their traditional turkey with the stuffing. My mother absolutely hated turkey dinners, “tasteless and bland,” she used to say. As a result, we always opted for a nicely roasted chicken or a wonderful leg of pork. Every household had a different set of food(s) that they prepared for this celebration and each one of them was uniquely different. The food said a lot about the diversity and varied choices that we enjoyed then.
Radio Ceylon played endless Christmas music on the airwaves from the 1st of December. Those wonderful singers like Lylie Godridge, Navaranjini Olagasekeram, Christine Perera et al used to perform in a series of Carol concerts in churches all over the island. Sunday schools geared up for their nativity plays. Bedsheets, serviettes and saris were draped into creative costumes. Hardboard crowns covered in gold paper were pasted together with glue. Some parents cared while other didn’t give a damn, resulting in some of the kings looking drab and depressed while others looked proud and resplendent. The best-behaved children were always selected to be Mary or Joseph, angels or kings and the naughtier ones were made to be donkeys and cows. Nevertheless, it was a thrilling theatrical debut for the young participants (with lots of help from parents and teachers) and glory shone around. Mercifully there were no iPhones to record these memorable events, but they were wonderful indeed.
One of the other noticeable things about Christmas in our island was the use of lanterns (those cylindrical paper lanterns with the candle fixed inside to illuminate it). This was probably the way that we adapted the use of Vesak Lanterns into our celebrations. The main event that triggered off the festive season is the service of Carols and Nine Lessons by the St. Thomas College choir which has always been consistently wonderful. Watching this year’s carol service online confirmed the fact that this choir is still at the top of its game.
I remember coming out of the College chapel at dusk after one such memorable service, to be greeted by the school prefects, staff and boarders holding up brightly lit lanterns that filled up the quadrangle like multicoloured fireflies. It was utterly breath-taking. The season had begun.
We all had new clothes to wear to church on Christmas day. This was a certainty. Attending the morning service was unavoidable. It was after going to church that the real fun began. Then it was the time for gifts. And even though we did get excited by this, it certainly did not take over our lives. Gifts were the last things on our minds as we wanted to have fun with our cousins. The older you got the gifts were not as forthcoming as they were when you were a child. There were always an endless stream of lunch and dinner parties until the new year which started from about the week before the big day. The most senior members of any family had huge parties to which all of the extended family (be they Buddhist, of other faiths or none) were invited. They were very much a part of the celebrations. My father, being the eldest of ten always had an enormous bash for his side of the family most of whom were Buddhist. Ten members of one family, all their spouses and about twenty-seven grandchildren including extended members of the family contributed to one noisy do. It was complete chaos, yet it was so much fun. The elder children who were about to enter universities or ready for marriage were always dressed as if for display. There were so many games being played all the time, adults inside the house and the children anywhere but near them. My mother’s side of the family who were predominantly Anglican Christian celebrated with one party after another. Each uncle hosted a different party, one on Christmas eve, another on Christmas day and the other on Boxing day. Visiting older aunts and uncles was always prioritised. There was a lot of carol singing at each of these gatherings. If the parties were in the night-time, all the cousins used to get together, put on some ridiculous outfits, carry a lot of lanterns and go from house to house (mostly around the Keppettipola road area), carolling loudly. Every household we disturbed were happy to give us treats of some kind and wave us on our way. It was just endless fun, simple and uncomplicated.
Fast forward, to the present day, and we are in the complex and arrogant world of the here and now. The excess represented by the Ghost of Christmas Present is very visible these days but dig in further and the reality is more akin to the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, hollow and much like a grave in waiting. The present is a time that is without tolerance or care, yet everything is fleshed out for show. Without the key ingredients of kindness and generosity the entire celebration of Christmas seems just null and void. No one cares for the Tiny Tim’s of the world anymore. As the story goes, the Ghost of Christmas Present holds up a mirror to show the humble cerebrations at Bob Cratchits simple home, and it is the joy they share with the little they have that finally begins to turn the key to Scrooge’s heart. Adding to this, the ghost points out the plight of Tiny Tim by saying to Scrooge “…on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing is erased.”
Gift giving is competitive these days. Obnoxious children demand the latest iPhones, designer clothes or some contraption created by Apple or Samsung. The rich pull out as much money as they can to give someone richer, an ostentatious gift, simply to curry favour. The less well-off someone is, they can expect some cast off that has been rolled up in mothballs since last Christmas to be flung at them, with the usual phrase, “it’s the thought that counts.” You better watch out in case your gift it not deemed worthy enough. There have been instances that such gifts have been photographed and pinged on social media channels to shame the hapless giver.
Grandmothers try to win the love of their grandchildren by buying them extra gifts which are totally unnecessary! The brats then become immune to everything other than what they want or like and go around demanding things from every guest who enters the house even when it’s not Christmas! And who on earth ever thought that some will need a jumped-up fashionista to decorate one’s Christmas tree (hideously - I must add) and charge a fortune for doing it? Some stuff their house with so many decorations that you need a tracker to find the host or the toilet! Colour co-ordinated decorations that are mostly bought from abroad have contributed to the competitive edge that this season now demands.
Most people that I know, do what they can with what they have, to celebrate this most important day. But since the religious underpinning to this season has now been superseded by businesses and ostentatious displays of wealth, a sense of competitiveness has ruined the simplicity and joy. Venomous criticisms regarding hosts, their parties or what they serve are dished out frequently. Invitations are declined or accepted depending on the hierarchy that the host or attendees are placed within. There is a sense of trepidation to entertain in case one falls short of the standards expected by the hoi polloi. These are the direct results of the diminution of the values of this religious celebration that many have now abandoned.
But the deepest cut of all is the disappearance of the unity we had in the past. Sadly, some
friends and relatives (several of whom have celebrated Christmas’s with my family in times gone by) have become scientifically advanced and abandoned their religious beliefs. I completely support the fact that everyone has a right to choose whether they believe in a God or not. However, it is when these so-called humanists sit on their high horse and belittle those who have a belief, that it causes rifts. Casting aspersions about people by assuming that their religion somehow leads them to support certain political views is simply wrong. Brandishing comparisons about one’s beliefs on Facebook is below the low. Social media these days is rife with shaming. Observing the constant insults and comments that rage, it is evident that they are especially focussed against Christians and the teachings in the Bible. It seems that these godless types who tend to overthink everything, shit themselves when it comes to passing any comments about other communities that hold on to similar beliefs. I am sure they are fully aware of the cartoons that led to a massacre, of great writing that resulted in an author being given police protection for life, and the recent brutal murder in Pakistan of a Sri Lankan who was just doing his job. Not one of these judgemental people came forward or vocalised any objection to the Easter massacres in our own country, did they? As expected, there was a deafening silence from these mouthy rationalists which I can only explain as fear. A fear that our Christian community does not instil in them, thank God! All they continue to do is spread their hate and encourage divisions that drive friends, families and communities apart. This leaves those of us who do have a belief just to hope that the future will be like the past.
Don’t let the prediction of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, come true. Change your ways; be humble, be human and be kind.
Happy Christmas and May God bless you all.