I grew up having an unintentionally multicultural upbringing. While Hinduism has always been in the driver’s seat, Christianity and Catholicism were prominent backseat riders of the wagon of religious beliefs. Being a CJMite (A student of the Convent of Jesus and Mary) played a huge role in this, and the montage of memories that plays in my head each time I think of the festival of Christmas.
Much like my association with all festivals, regardless of which community they belong to, my memories of Christmas are in very minimal ways relevant to the birth of Christ or other Biblical events. For me, the 25th of December is a day of shimmer, sheep and ‘Showers of Blessings’. And if I live to the day when technology can display our memories in a calendar-like form, it would show just that.
Kindergarten
My earliest memories of Christmas are set in the basement of our school where most junior school celebrations used to take place. They amazed me- about three feet tall, sitting in the very front to view an introduction to the birth of Christ. The same memories also show how I carried the spirit of Christmas home with me. I would cry and wail to put up a red stocking on a nail. The next morning, I would wake up to the stockings heavy with chocolates from Santa Claus’ visit.
Grades 1st through 5th
This span of time went by in a blurry haze, however the sparkle of red, white, and green remains prominent. From taking away all the decorations my mother bought for use in her school to decorate MY class, to making small cards for the teachers each year, Christmas taught me the joy of giving. Speaking of giving, I am reminded of the Advent Friend Gift Exchange we had each year. Each student would draw lots that contained the names of all the students of their class, pray for the students’ good health, and on the day of the Christmas celebration give out a gift and a card to them. While whoever would receive my name would coincidentally forget to bring my card, I would put immense effort into making one with copious amounts of glitter and indecipherable handwriting.
Each year in the Christmas plays organised in the same green and grey basement, I would be a part of the choir. I knew all the carols by heart, well enough to make it sound very much like the actual lyrics. ‘Showers of Blessings’, ‘Jingle Bells’, ‘Silent Night’, and so many more carols would ring in the corridors every day until the main event. On one such event, when I was in the fifth grade, I was taken from my place in the choir to become a sheep. The role of the sheep was of utmost importance, or so I had mistaken. I was made to practise entering and exiting the stage on all fours alongside Mary and Joseph. This way, I made my debut in dramatics, the first of many trivial roles throughout my scholastic career.
Middle School
Christmas in sixth grade is not well-grained in my memory, but the same in seventh grade is etched permanently.
That year, the middle school had decided to hold a competition for the ‘Best Decorated Class’. Becoming a rather self-appointed but popular leader of the pack, I climbed desks, cut through heaps of shimmer sheets and tied bows of ribbons all over the class. Fighting with fellow classes and their teachers, and making best of friends with people I no longer speak with, our class won the hearts of all those who visited and the competition, with a little help from the magical chocolate wish bowl we had set out.
The year to follow, 2020, was a drastic contrast to its predecessor. Coronavirus had forced us to continue our schooling from home and thus Christmas was not at its quintessence. Yet, the spirit needed to be kept alive and that being the duty of us CJMites, we made it an excuse to gather at my house. Clicking the cheesiest photos and playing pranks on other friends, we had a time that I still have mixed feelings about. A smile that is both full of happiness and squirmy-ness curves my lips as I write about that year.
High School
The ninth-grade celebration remained lowkey due to the lurking pandemic. Even in tenth-grade, the celebrations could not be enjoyed in full swing due to the blow we had received from our pre-board examinations.
With new friendships, new traditions and new decorations- every year’s Christmas DJ saw an addition of a potluck. Everyone came into school with huge casseroles of food for everyone. In the chilling wind, our paper plates were laddened with flavours from a variety of homes.
The year passed on, and we arrived at the present. The most recent celebration of Christmas was also our second-to-last celebration in this school. Being eleventh graders, we rarely attended school enough to decorate the class. However, the potluck and the advent exchange went on as planned.
Looking Back Now
When I look back at all these Christmas celebrations, I see one thing in common- ‘The joy of celebration,’ which I fell in love with. Just to imagine that next year could be my last celebration is something scary. The 25th of December can never be ‘just a passing day’ for me. It will always be present in an immortal frame in the decked hall of my memories bringing back friends, joy and ‘Deck the halls with boughs of holly fa la la la la la …’
Writer : Kriti Gupta
Grade : 11 (Year 2023)
Place : Ambala, India
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