BackCovid and the advent of an ascetic Christmas season
Christmas makes us feel warm and snug, with all the wine, mistletoe and Jim Reeves carols setting the mood for a new year to come, but 2020 has been aberrative. Blame it on a bug.
PremiumIn the second week of November, a former colleague called to ask me for my address. “I have a little something for you," he explained. “My driver will bring it over."
Why, I wanted to know. For Diwali, he said. “When is Diwali?" I asked.
“In a couple of days," he laughed. “Did you forget?"
I had actually forgotten I was bang in the middle of north India’s “festive season". Well, yeah, that’s what covid did to me. But in any case, I’ve personally never been too enamoured of Diwali, with its attendant traffic jams and raucous firecrackers and (consequent) bad air quality. And, of course, the mandatory ingestion of sugar-overloaded mithai: it’s bad manners to say no to a potential onset of diabetes.
Christmas, on the other hand, is a different ballgame. I’ve always associated it with a warm, fuzzy, mellow feeling. Like coming home to a well-lit fireplace on a cold winter night. Mulled wine with the underlying taste of bits of seeped cinnamon, pops of red, mistletoe, carols by Jim Reeves (no one does them better than him), good food, plum cakes and a bedecked tree. And, of course, the gifts. Carefully wrapped in colourful paper, placed under the tree with name cards.
The most thumping endorsement of my love for Christmas is that, once, I didn’t take down my tree for a whole year. For the next 12 months, I’d come back home from work every evening, put on the fairy-lights and bask in the fluttering glow. People would exclaim, “At your place, it’s Christmas every day." I took that as a compliment.
Whether or not you believe that Jesus Christ was born on 25 December to save us all from damnation, it’s the snug spirit and comforting cheer of the occasion that stands out to be counted. Christmas gets us into a happy groove in good time to welcome yet another new year.
This year, for the first time, I’ll be giving conventional Christmas a pass. There is talk of going on a long drive—in individual vehicles that have been suitably sanitized to keep the virus at bay—to get our minds off the gloom, but with social distancing and general paranoia consuming the human race, it all seems rather pointless.
Along with the rest of the world, I’m trying to find cynical coping mechanisms. Like soaking in a telling piece Jessa Crispin wrote for The Guardian titled ‘Does Covid Mean You’re Spending Your First Christmas Alone? Let me guide you’. “Stripped of its typical distractions—the physical presence of people you love, the same family stories you hear every year, the exasperating proximity of children enthralled with a new toy, capitalist rituals of consumption and excessive waste—the holiday season is revealed for what it is: a grim slog." That rang a jingle bell.
Fortified, I decided to knock off the usual suspects from my ‘holiday season’ movie list. It’s A Wonderful Life and Meet Me At St Louis and Love Actually. Settled for completing season two of the surreal Twin Peaks. Swapped Carrie Underwood’s O Come All Ye Faithful with Barry McGuire’s Eve of Destruction as my evening anthem. Made my peace with the prospect of a dhaba-style tandoori roti and dal makhni lunch (while on that alienating long drive I mentioned earlier), instead of rotisserie chicken stuffed with sage and onion. Ducked meeting friends for mall crawls and retail therapy, and shopped for stuffed red chilli pickles and Vitamin D supplements online.
Yet, just because ‘tis the season, I suppose, there have been good tidings creeping in, making me feel warm and mellow despite the odds.
My father has booked a portion of caramel custard from his neighbourhood patisserie. He’ll have his mask on when he receives his order, and proceed to wash his hands immediately after, he informed me. “It’ll be something to look forward to after my solo Christmas lunch comprising of the previous evening’s leftovers."
My school batchmate will be cooking up a feast for two—herself and her husband—at home. “We usually have a big get-together on Christmas day—friends, family, neighbours—and I order this incredible pot roast with all the right trimmings from an Anglo-Indian contact who turns into a home chef during the festive season." This year, since there’s no party, and she has all the time in the world, she’s trying her hand at making pot roast and baking a slew of breads. “And pudding with plum sauce—hopefully, it’ll get the romance back in my life too!"
Someone else I know told me he plans to host his customary—and red-letter—Christmas party as soon as the situation returns to normal. “Even if it’s sultry summer or raining cats and dogs."
A friend’s NGO is taking donations from people like us to buy Christmas goodies and cakes for slum kids, which will be distributed without violating any norms of social distancing. “We have been giving the children quick workshops on covid protocol, and have told them the gifts are only those who follow them. They are eager to be sticklers now, and have offered to spread the word."
The gospel, as it were.
So, for whatever it may be worth in these new-normal times, Merry Christmas!
Sushmita Bose is a journalist, editor and the author of ‘Single In The City’.
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