Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! Please?

Come December and the holiday cheer descends upon us and everywhere you look there are people shopping, stores decked out with seasonal items, aisle after aisle of wreaths and Christmas trees and holiday trinkets and candy, houses twinkling with icicle lights, Christmas carols that haunt you long after you've turned the radio off, grocery stores that put out the turkey and the ham, the pie and the cake up front where you can't miss it, and a lot of smiles and good cheer and people in red sweaters.

But everytime I think of Christmas the first thing I picture is a lot of snow. I guess I can blame the stereotype that the media has plagued us with since we were kids. Even back in India the greeting cards featured snow laden roads and Santa's sleigh, mistletoe and a big snowman and kids in boots, cap and sweaters riding sleds on snowy terrain. So when I picture Christmas I always visualize snow and cold and mittens and boots, a warm fireplace, and subzero temperatures. And all the time I've been in the US I've never been disappointed. It always snows.

And then we have something like this. A whopping 70 degree Farenheit a week before Christmas. Bizarre to say the least.

And no, it doesn't feel like Christmas at all.

O brother

Okay so I'm going to be mostly gone for the next week or so. That does not mean I will not surface from time to time.....but for the most part it will be kind of irregular. So my kind reader, please bear with me.

After a good many years this is one Christmas that will be spent with a lot of family. My sis-in-law will be here with her family which is always nice. And then my cousin P will be here the whole week between Christmas and New Year. And my other cousin B who I mentioned in a previous post will be here for the New year's weekend with his family. People all dear to me. And it promises to be a fun week ahead.

Last time I wrote about my cousins I promised to write a sequel with snippets about the ones I left out in that post. And I never did. However with P coming over this weekend and me being totally excited about seeing him after all this time, just couldn't help but stir up my treasure chest of nostalgia. So do forgive me if I sound all soppy again.

P is my Kaku's son, six years younger to me and as close as it gets to being my own brother. I still remember the day when he was born in our nursing home in South Calcutta. I was really excited about having a kid brother and couldn't wait for him to get out of Kaki's tummy. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him. He was in the nursery with a bunch of other newborns, wrapped up in many, many layers, sleeping peacefully. Minu-di-pishi who was the nurse on duty took him out of the crib, ever so gently, and brought him over to the window so that I could get a better look at the tiny little thing. And I looked at him in total awe, wondering how on earth this tiny little specimen of humanity would ever be able to play with me. And then the next week Kaki brought him home and to me he did not look any bigger or stronger than what I remembered from my first visit. I distinctly remember everyone fussing over him. He was the first boy in the house in our generation and we had a constant stream of relatives and well-wishers pouring in to see the little one. I was allowed to hold him, play with his little fingers and shower my affection on him. To me he was like a living doll that I could play with. And I was so interested in all the new things that sprung up since P arrived......like gripe water (which I thought was a very nice thing to drink) and jars of baby food ( I so wanted to taste the Cerelac) and all the Johnson's baby products...the powder and soap and shampoo.

And slowly P started growing up. He learnt to roll over and smile....he learnt to sit up on his own....mouth garbled words that sounded like ba-ba-ba....he took his first steps.....he started to walk and run and play. And all of a sudden he appeared to be more interesting than I had given him credit when I had first laid eyes on him. He called me Didia. And he followed me everywhere and wanted to do everything that I ever did. He adored me. And I loved him like crazy. Here was one person who actually looked up to me and I could boss around if I felt like taking advantage of my six years of seniority.

I think one of the biggest scares P gave us was when he was barely two and had to undergo a hernia operation. I remember how tiny and frail he looked on the huge hospital bed. Kaki stayed with him the whole time. Daddy was in the O.T. during the surgery while the rest of us waited outside with bated breath. I still remember the gush of relief that swept over us when Daddy came out along with the surgeon who was smiling and reassured us that everything had gone well. P had a second hernia operation a couple of years later and then another one to remove his adenoids. To me who had never spent a day in the hospital it seemed like P was a very weak and sick kid who I had to protect. And I was ever so protective of him. I would defend him, spoil him silly and love him with all my heart. I gave up eating icecreams because P had a tonsil problem and was not allowed to have anything cold. I would accompany him to school, listen to all his tales about his friends, spend hours playing carrom, chess, badminton and tag, come up with new ideas to build things, do stuff, have fun.

And with the years we just grew closer. I still remember the last year that I spent at home right before I got married, P would spend every waking hour at home with me. I guess he had realized that I would be leaving soon and had started missing me in a way. He was busy at that time with school and tuitions and friends......yet, the moment he came back home, he would run up the stairs and come into my room, sit on my bed and give me a detailed account of his entire day's activities. He would tell me about all his troubles at school, keep me up to date on his numerous girlfriends and listen to any advise that I handed out regarding life. The last Christmas I spent at home, feeling sad and lonely because B was in the US and my parents were out, P bought me a Christmas tree so that I could cheer up and decorate it and not feel so blue.

And although it has been several years since then, to me P will still be my little kid brother and I love him exactly the same way I did back then. I asked him last night if he wanted to eat anything special when he would be here with us and he said in a sheepish voice, "luchi". So if you find me missing this following week, you'll know where I am....making luchi, alur dom and fish-fry for my kid brother. So you'll excuse me, won't you?

'Tis the season to be merry.......

So it's December again. The snow is here, winter has set in, the stores are decked out in their holiday display, people are ice skating, houses are adorned in twinkling lights and lawns are a display of lighted reindeers and Santas, children are happy writing letters to Santa, parents are scratching their heads figuring out what to buy, the post office is overflowing with holiday mail, grocery stores are resplendant in red poinsettias, charities are collecting "Toys for Tots", and everyone has plans for spending time with the family or friends. Yes, it feels like December. The culmination of yet another year and the anticipation of starting out afresh in the new one. With hundreds of resolutions and countless aspirations and abundant hope.

Back in India December had always been special. Final exams would be over and schools would close for the year. That meant no studying, no holiday homework, and nothing to do but having a good time. December meant Christmas and although it had very little religious connotation in my life, I always looked forward to Christmas. I would sit down and laboriously make my own greeting cards which invariably had a theme of snow and Santa and Christmas trees. I would make one for my family, one for my maternal grandparents and one for Sister J, who was the principal of my school. And on Christmas morning I would go visit Sister J in school (the convent was adjacent to the school building) who would be thrilled to see us and would give us some cake that she had baked the night before. This was a tradition I maintained until I started going to college and heard Sister J had been transferred to some other school in South India.

Other memories of Christmas include going to a mid-morning wine and cheese party at the Woodlands Nursing home with my parents where I would stuff myself with brownies, except I did not know that they were called brownies and used to refer to them as tiny chocolate cakes. Then we would go for a sumptous lunch at the Calcutta club followed by the Christmas party at the Calcutta Rowing Club. There would always be a Santa who would arrive by boat to distribute toys and other goodies to the children who would be frantically waving and screaming from the lake shore. And of course there would be things like "Sit and Draw" and "Fancy Dress" and children's races which had a tremendous amount of participation. It always was a day spent with the family. And it always was fun.

Now years later, far removed from the Christmas scene in Calcutta I still cannot help feeling all happy and mushy just thinking about Christmas. I see the smile on people's face and it makes my day. I hear Christmas carols and it fills my heart with joy. I stand and admire the beautiful Christmas decorations and imbibe the happiness that seems all pervasive. For the first time this year I put up a Christmas tree in my living room and decked it all out with lights and sparkling balls. People have pointed out that I am overdoing it and the US is turning me into a Christian. And I tell them there is nothing religious about having a Christmas tree in your house. It is more cultural than religious. And yes, I grew up learning not to differentiate or discriminate between religion. I have been to temples and churches and mosques and gurdwaras.....I have a Gita, a Bible and a Quoran at home, I have a "Thakurer ashon" and do Lakhsmi Pujo on Thursdays, I have slept with a Bible under my pillow for years and I have partaken of the feast laid out after Id. So what does that make me? A human being, I hope.

And yes the US has changed me. I am careful to wish people "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas", I buy greeting cards that veer away from statements about Christmas but instead say things like "Best wishes for the New Year" and never ask people what they are doing for Christmas, but instead "what are your plans for the holidays". But to me it is still Christmas.....it is still time for the family and presents from Santa and huge dinners and fruit cake and eggnog. Here's wishing everyone a happy holiday and the very best for the year that is to come.