Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells
Of all the Christmas carols, this was my favorite as a child. It announced that Santa Claus was coming soon with his big red sack full of gifts. And he had something for me too! Technically, Christmas was not a festival celebrated in our family. However, in the country where hues of different cultures and religions unify to create a vibrant picture, that does not really matter. As the little lights glittered, the bells chimed, tempting smell from bakeries filled the air, and Christmas carols were everywhere, I waited impatiently for dear old Santa. And the gift.
I do not remember the year I was introduced to this idea of gift giving around the Christmas time. As my grandma retells my childhood, I realize that it wasn’t really about Santa then. I celebrated getting something all over the winter. As she would call me to wake up in the morning, I would sleepily search under my pillow. And would refuse to get up unless I found the coveted ‘gift’. The ‘gift’ would usually be a carrot, a few peapods, an orange, an apple, a tomato etc, whatever was there in grandma’s kitchen. I love fruits and vegetables; and soon after brushing, would munch on those fresh produces. I only remember those mornings in bits and pieces. I have this one faint image of me denying getting up from the bed complaining about the missing gift. My grandma hurried with a few pods of peas from her busy kitchen and kept it under my pillow. All the time I pretended to sleep with eyes closed. On some Sundays, it would maybe be one bar of chocolate or a few lozenges. Sometimes I even got a coloring box or a new pencil. I knew that ‘Santa’ was my dida only, but never stopped believing in the story somehow. I never stopped enjoying in those little moments of surprises.
The earliest real memory of Christmas I have was from the time when I was already a toddler in school. There would be a big Christmas tree in school, and one of the teachers dressed as Santa would distribute some sweets. We would enact the nativity play. When I was in the primary school, we would decorate our classrooms with paper chains and balloons and glittery decorations. We would arrange to bring a cake and have a little feast of our own. A fun filled and colorful day in the school before the winter breaks.
Where those cheerful banters filled the classroom, at home it was all about putting up the stockings on the Christmas Eve. We did not have a tree at home, not one to put the socks anyway. I used to decorate the little tree I made in the art and craft class of school. Therefore, my brother and I would hang socks on our bedposts before going to bed that night. I took pleasure in imaging that putting on the longer stockings instead of shorter socks would make Santa keep a bigger box of gift by it for me. I never made any list for Santa, simply wished anything nice. In the morning, I would wake up to a big packet hanging on my bedpost. In crisp paper-wraps would be some surprise gifts. One year it was some bright warm woolens, another year there was matching lunch box and water bottle for school. Sometimes I got books. There would be also some chocolates and other goodies. However, I do not remember getting any toys or similar things ever. Even though the gifts were always things I needed or things that were useful, they never ceased to make me happy. It was never about what were inside those packets. It is always about opening those packets.
Children, as they grow up, start doubting the existence of Santa. They make plans trying to catch the parents in Santa act. My brother did. That year around Christmas, he started to voice his doubt regarding the old man. On Christmas Eve, he went to bed after putting up the socks like usual. And then, he just pretended to sleep. Later at night, as my parents were hanging the gift bags by our socks, he startled them saying ‘Ma, baba, ami kintu dekhte pachi je tomra gift rakhcho!’ (Mom, dad, I can see that it is you who are keeping the gifts). My parents exclaimed, ‘Didn’t you sleep yet’!! I never opened my eyes to peek into the tale.
Maybe, because I always knew it were parents or grandparents sneaking in to silently put the gifts by the bed, I was never eager to remove the wrap of mystery. I was always keen on keeping my eyes closed and living in the fairy tale. I made myself believe that the packets arrived there magically from some old friendly grandpa like man. I liked to keep the Christmas gifts wrapped under veil of surprise and tales. I still do. The anticipation, will there be a gift in the morning by my pillow, underneath the tree. The excitement, what will be inside it? The slow careful unwrapping of the colorful paper. The ripples of instant surprise and happiness in my heart. This is all what Christmas gifts are about. As Blaž and I were wrapping up the Christmas tree last weekend, I was already eagerly looking forward to take it out next winter. I love decorating the tree.
And the child in me still loves to hang the socks on a Christmas tree. And waits for Santa to come and sneak in the house to leave a gift for her by the tree…
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh
Of all the Christmas carols, this was my favorite as a child. It announced that Santa Claus was coming soon with his big red sack full of gifts. And he had something for me too! Technically, Christmas was not a festival celebrated in our family. However, in the country where hues of different cultures and religions unify to create a vibrant picture, that does not really matter. As the little lights glittered, the bells chimed, tempting smell from bakeries filled the air, and Christmas carols were everywhere, I waited impatiently for dear old Santa. And the gift.
I do not remember the year I was introduced to this idea of gift giving around the Christmas time. As my grandma retells my childhood, I realize that it wasn’t really about Santa then. I celebrated getting something all over the winter. As she would call me to wake up in the morning, I would sleepily search under my pillow. And would refuse to get up unless I found the coveted ‘gift’. The ‘gift’ would usually be a carrot, a few peapods, an orange, an apple, a tomato etc, whatever was there in grandma’s kitchen. I love fruits and vegetables; and soon after brushing, would munch on those fresh produces. I only remember those mornings in bits and pieces. I have this one faint image of me denying getting up from the bed complaining about the missing gift. My grandma hurried with a few pods of peas from her busy kitchen and kept it under my pillow. All the time I pretended to sleep with eyes closed. On some Sundays, it would maybe be one bar of chocolate or a few lozenges. Sometimes I even got a coloring box or a new pencil. I knew that ‘Santa’ was my dida only, but never stopped believing in the story somehow. I never stopped enjoying in those little moments of surprises.
The earliest real memory of Christmas I have was from the time when I was already a toddler in school. There would be a big Christmas tree in school, and one of the teachers dressed as Santa would distribute some sweets. We would enact the nativity play. When I was in the primary school, we would decorate our classrooms with paper chains and balloons and glittery decorations. We would arrange to bring a cake and have a little feast of our own. A fun filled and colorful day in the school before the winter breaks.
Where those cheerful banters filled the classroom, at home it was all about putting up the stockings on the Christmas Eve. We did not have a tree at home, not one to put the socks anyway. I used to decorate the little tree I made in the art and craft class of school. Therefore, my brother and I would hang socks on our bedposts before going to bed that night. I took pleasure in imaging that putting on the longer stockings instead of shorter socks would make Santa keep a bigger box of gift by it for me. I never made any list for Santa, simply wished anything nice. In the morning, I would wake up to a big packet hanging on my bedpost. In crisp paper-wraps would be some surprise gifts. One year it was some bright warm woolens, another year there was matching lunch box and water bottle for school. Sometimes I got books. There would be also some chocolates and other goodies. However, I do not remember getting any toys or similar things ever. Even though the gifts were always things I needed or things that were useful, they never ceased to make me happy. It was never about what were inside those packets. It is always about opening those packets.
 |
| The Christmas tree.. Gifts were already opened and loved.. |
Children, as they grow up, start doubting the existence of Santa. They make plans trying to catch the parents in Santa act. My brother did. That year around Christmas, he started to voice his doubt regarding the old man. On Christmas Eve, he went to bed after putting up the socks like usual. And then, he just pretended to sleep. Later at night, as my parents were hanging the gift bags by our socks, he startled them saying ‘Ma, baba, ami kintu dekhte pachi je tomra gift rakhcho!’ (Mom, dad, I can see that it is you who are keeping the gifts). My parents exclaimed, ‘Didn’t you sleep yet’!! I never opened my eyes to peek into the tale.
Maybe, because I always knew it were parents or grandparents sneaking in to silently put the gifts by the bed, I was never eager to remove the wrap of mystery. I was always keen on keeping my eyes closed and living in the fairy tale. I made myself believe that the packets arrived there magically from some old friendly grandpa like man. I liked to keep the Christmas gifts wrapped under veil of surprise and tales. I still do. The anticipation, will there be a gift in the morning by my pillow, underneath the tree. The excitement, what will be inside it? The slow careful unwrapping of the colorful paper. The ripples of instant surprise and happiness in my heart. This is all what Christmas gifts are about. As Blaž and I were wrapping up the Christmas tree last weekend, I was already eagerly looking forward to take it out next winter. I love decorating the tree.
And the child in me still loves to hang the socks on a Christmas tree. And waits for Santa to come and sneak in the house to leave a gift for her by the tree…
No comments:
Post a Comment