All My Christmases- Mala Sinha

What could he big about a day, I wondered. I once asked Mother, "Does it mean, Mummy, that it's a long day with a short night so that I may run around playing longer than usual?" Mother, busy about her chores, just laughed, patted me and moved away.

y schooling had begun just about then. Apart from book knowledge, school life was to teach me the value of discipline-Christian schools always emphasised this and I think it is a good thing for children. Scripture c1asses and Sunday school were to help me develop faith in God, teach me about my religion. From these, I was to learn to put together for myself a story which is the greatest and most beautiful ever told.

It was a slow process covering many years but my young impressionable mind began to absorb the wonder and joy of Christmas which marks the birth of Jesus. He could have chosen the most regal of palaces but he preferred to take birth in a lowly manger in Bethlehem. I thrilled when I read in the Bible of Joseph the carpenter and Mary his wife: "...behold, an angel of the Lord appeared unto him .in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David; fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name JESUS; for it is he that shall save his people from their sins."

In my mind's eye, a great star went up once again on the skies above Bethlehem. And wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we saw his star in the east, and are come to worship him...

Virgin Mary is held in almost tl1e same reverence as Jesus. In my woman's heart, too, I found it easy to give this reverence-for Our Lady's courage in accepting what was ordained for her.

About the time I reached teen age, Christmas became a more meaningful event than it was in my childhood. I no longer regarded it as just a day when I could wear a new dress, eat and play as much as I liked, and go to bed, tired and deliriously happy, only to dream that I was an angel in white with wings.

I now participated actively in the preparations for Christmas. In our colony there was a spirit of competition as to whose home looked the cleanest and most well decorated. I fashioned lanters which I liked to think were the most colourful, giving proof of my artistic inclinations. We girls bought balloons by the gross and spent hours blowing them up. Our mouths ached. Bang went most of the balloons. Then Mother would come along to chase me off. She would take charge, sedately and cautiously blowing up the remaining balloons with an inflator.

Class-rooms had to be decorated. With Christmas around the corner, our holidays would commence. There was the flurry of taking temporary leave of chums. We girls had to wear a regulation tunic to school but we promised one another that on reopening day we would come in our new Christmas clothes to compare notes. This was defiance and the school would punish us but for once we were willing to break the rules and cheerfully face the consequence. At church, too, on Christmas day, we young ones-much to the chagrin of our parents-spent our time stealing glances at one another's new frocks. Children, I guess, will be children.

"Love thy neighbour," we were taught, and Christmas best exemplified the observance of this rule. There were a large number of Christians in our colony and it was not only a matter of we of the same faith practising friendship and goodwill. Most of us had Hindu friends-among these there were some whom I affectionately called "uncle" or "auntie". These friends would visit us during Christmas as we visited them on their festive days.

Christmas thus became to me a symbol of togetherness. There was a simplicity among the people of my community, sincerity, candour, a capacity to laugh. These are qualities which you miss in big cities today. Christmas to me brought into focus these qualities which sent the best in human values.

In school they taught us children to be good and true because, as we were told, God loved those who were good, and Christmas was a re-affirmation of the validity of these ideals.

A Christmas tree came into my home every year but there was another tree in our colony which was a more meaningful symbol to me. It was a neem tree in whose shade we used to play. Here, I, as the commander-in-chief of my set, led my friends in singing Rabinura Sangeet and dancing. Here, we children from different schools told one another what new things we were learning. The tree, with its many branches, was green, young like us, and like us, full of life. When a cool breeze stirred, the tree seemed to be talking and laughing. It seemed to be giving us its love.

Four years ago, when I revisited the place, it had changed. Many of my "uncles" and "aunties" had grown old; some of them were not there at all. My pals, too, had grown up. Some had families of their own now to take care of; others had to take care of their jobs. The tree had changed also. It had gone .dry. It was a little like my own heart. The same winds of change that had blown off the cool neem leaves, I thought with a pang, had withered much of the gaiety, the innocent abandon of the many young lives that once loved the tang of those leaves. I cried. It was, I suppose, the natural reaction of one who had gone through life, grown-up and in the process received both deep hurts and high material rewards. Childhood is like a flower, white and pure. Like a flower, too, it has a sweet but short life. Then you spend a life-time aching for it to bloom again.

Today, at Christmas, I rejoice in the birth of the Lord, our Saviour. But I have gained maturity enough to sense the undercurrent of pain that runs through His story. When I pray, I have the strength and wisdom to ascribe the gifts life has bestowed on me to His grace. With a bent head and humble heart, I ask, "Lord, give me peace."