Edited by Madhulika Liddle and Jerry Pinto, Indian Christmas is an anthology of essays, poems and hymns that showcase the variety of ways in which Christmas is celebrated across India. The book comprises an eclectic collection of stories; there are essays on Christmas celebrations in Calcutta, a Christmas wedding in Kottayam, memories of celebrating Christmas in Goa, an East India-style Christmas in Bombay, memories of Christmas celebrations in the villages and hill stations of India, Punjabi-style Christmas carols, cakes and other Christmas goodies, and what have you. In his introduction to the book, Jerry Pinto recounts his memories of seeing his first ever ‘live’ Santa Claus – at the Akbarally’s department store in Bombay – and that while there was, of course, no snow in Bombay, the family had to make do with listening to Jim Reeves singing White Christmas (as, apparently, was the norm in most Goan Roman Catholic homes back in the 1970s/80s) and there were Christmas cakes with rum-soaked raisins in them, and Marzipan with peeled almonds, vindaloo and sorpotel and roast pork.
In the second of the book’s two-part introduction, Madhulika Liddle writes about the baking traditions associated with Christmas, which in India might have started with the Mambally Royal Biscuit Factory – a bakery in Thalassery, in Kerala. Its founder, one Mambally Bapu, who trained as a baker in Burma, is said to have baked the first proper Christmas cake in India sometime in the year 1883, and there was no looking back ever since. As Liddle says, ‘The general impression of a [Christmas] cake, rich in raisins and gaudy tutti-frutti, dark with caramel and with a distinct booziness to it is all very well, but there are more variations across India than one can count.’ She also writes about how food is representative of the indigenization of Christmas in India, with roast turkey and Christmas puddings often replaced with traditional local fare – duck curry with appams in Kerala, pork curry in Nagaland, sausage pulao and xacuti in Goa, and shami kebabs and biryani elsewhere.
Later in the book, in one of the essays, Liddle tells us the story of how her
great-grandfather converted to Christianity sometime in the late 19th century,
her grandfather’s house – named Dua ka Ghar – in Saharanpur and memories
of ‘cake ki roti,’ which the local baker used to prepare with leftover
cake batter. ‘It might have a few stray bits of orange peel or candied fruit,
perhaps a tiny piece of nut here or there, and a faint whiff of the spices that
had gone into the cake. A mere memory, a hint of Christmas cake,’ she says. And
on the subject of ‘Indian’ Christmas, Liddle also remembers listening to
Christmas carols being sung in Punjabi, seeing a statue of Mary clad in a blue saree
in a church in Pondicherry, and eating masoor ki daal and rotis
for dinner on Christmas eve, followed by matar pulao and tamatar ka
bharta for lunch on Christmas.
Mudar Patherya writes about his memories of celebrating bada din in
Calcutta – the distribution of gifts and sweets to children, midnight mass at
St Paul’s Cathedral, the drive to Bow Barracks and Anglo-Indian music parties
where one would be exhorted to ‘come bro, dance, men!’ Also, Christmas lunch at
Tolly’s Club, where the buffet would comprise orange-ginger roast chicken,
grilled mutton in mint sauce and blanched fish in leek sauce. And if you
thought that’s a lot of writing about food, wait, there’s more: Anupama Raju
suggests that Baby Jesus might have been born in the kitchen since, as far as
her family is concerned, ‘Christmas always signified food. Lots of it.’ And so,
chicken fry, beef cutlets and pork vindaloo. The latter, she tells us,
became ‘vindalee’ on her father’s side of the family, in Kochi, using
pepper, curry leaves and a dash of coconut oil, but not red chillies or
potatoes. A slightly Malayalee Christmas, instead of a Goan one? Why not.
And speaking of Malayalee, Elizabeth Kuruvilla’s story is no less interesting,
as she – along with her husband-to-be – rides a motorcycle all the way from
Delhi to Kottayam, arriving home just in time for Christmas, and their wedding
party at her grandmother’s house, which had been built more than a 100 years
ago. She writes of Christmas traditions of Kerala’s Christian heartland,
age-old Syrian Christian customs, of not going to Church every Sunday and of
Christmas lunch, which would comprise ularthiyathu (spicy beef fry with
sliced coconut), beef cutlets, mutton biryani and maybe meen
vevichathu (a red-hot fish curry) or meen moilee (fish curry in
coconut milk), and stir-fried beans with grated coconut. ‘Cake, of course,
would be consumed unendingly,’ she says, adding that after the wedding, the
motorcycle was sent back to Delhi by train, while the newly-wedded couple and
their wedding party moved on to Goa.
For those who love the idea of celebrating Christmas in Goa, Vivek Menezes
writes about his memories of a Goan Christmas, where he says everyone is
welcome to join the fun. ‘At Christmas, there is the apex event of midnight
mass, the part-solemn, part-giddy ritual of dressing up in your extravagant
best, and trooping to the parish church for the long, meandering musical
service that ushers in the nativity. It ends in the small hours of the 25th
but no one heads home. Instead, there are only warm embraces, lashings of
coffee and slices of cake,’ he says, emphasizing the fact that in Goa, Catholic
and Hindu traditions co-exist in peaceful harmony and that people from all
communities revel in the spirit of Christmas.
And from Goa to Bombay, as Deborah Rosario writes about an East Indian
Christmas in the Maximum City. East Indians, as many would already know, are a
Bombay-based Christian community who were once close to the former East India
Company. ‘During the weeks leading to Christmas, I drive around the by-lanes of
Bandra – this historically Christian suburb truly radiates Christmas,’ she
says, describing the Christmas lights everywhere, Christmas music wafting from
the houses, the colourful Christmas sweets on sale and the carnivalesque
atmosphere that permeates the streets of Bandra. She also speaks of how
Christmas in Bombay has become ‘internationalised’ over the years, with outlets
like Theobrama and the American Express bakery offering many of the continental
treats Rosario once enjoyed in the UK. ‘These days, we live in a cosmopolitan
suburb of Mumbai – Andheri West – and have lost close connections to a
tightly-knit Christian community. We do distribute trays to a few neighbours of
both Christian and other faiths. In return, we receive sweets from one or two
Christian families at Christmas time, and from other families at the time of
their festivals,’ she notes, perhaps with a mild whiff of nostalgia for the
past, the days when young people in suits and dresses would gather at her
mother’s house and then go to the Bandra Gymkhana for the Christmas dance.
The above are just a few of the excellent stories from Indian Christmas; there
are many, many more in the book. The common themes that run across most essays
are that of merriment, feasting, socializing and spending time with friends and
family while celebrating Christmas. There is some longing for the past, for a
time when the Christian community in India was perhaps more closely-knit, and
there is acceptance of change and closer alignment with people of other faiths
and communities. The writing, for the most part, seems heartfelt and the
emotions very real, very human, all of which make this book an endearing read,
and the photographs and illustrations provided add a nice visual element. For
anyone who’s ever wondered how – and in what different ways – India celebrates
Christmas, the tantalizing glimpses this book provides are unparalleled.
‘Jag mein pyaar ki khushboo lekar aaye Jesus. Happy Christmas!’
-Ataur Rahman Tariq
Indian Christmas is available on Amazon
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