Christmas Time and Holly

The Sun, he goes to bed early

But before he does

Kisses the Sky good bye

And, she blushes gaily and smiles.

The Stars, they begin to peek out

One by one

From behind the curtain

Of the dark night

The Moon, she gazes down

From her throne

Above the world, so high

Through clouds and mist

The Trees, they stand

All dressed

In shades of red, orange and yellow

Quiet in the night

The Wind, he softly glides

Making music

Touching the grass

Singing to the leaves

The Leaves, they hear the music

He creates

They soon begin to dance

Twirling through the air

The Crickets, they sing

They join in

Revelling, frolicking

In the silence of the night ...

I put my pen down as I look out at the darkness illuminated by tiny earthen lamps. A cracker or two can be heard. Soon there will be many more lighting up the dark moonless sky. My mother is busy placing the ‘diyas’ around the garden and on the pillars at the entrance of the house.

“Elvi...” she says as she comes in. “We’ll have to start preparing for Christmas soon! The peels and other dry fruits for the plum cake need to be purchased, cut and soaked in rum.”

“Hmm... yes! We’ll go to the market next Sunday!” I reply.

Whitu, my cat, jumps on to my lap as I sit lost in thought and I begin to rub his ears and head absentmindedly.

---

“Mummy... Mummy...!” my younger sister called. “Do we have to cut the peels smaller than this?”

“It looks ok to me,” said my grandmother who was busy with the dates and cherries.

“Hmm... yes! This is alright!” said my mother as she wiped her hands on a towel, coming from the kitchen. “But what has happened to the cherries? I think there should have been more than just this much.”

“Well... there would have been if we didn’t have those two legged mice in the house!” laughed my grandmother.

“Aha...!” My mother looked from me to my sister. And, we looked back at her innocently.

“Daddy! Is it you by any chance?” asked my mother turning to my father who sat at the dining table with us piously cleaning the raisins and black currants.

“Me? Why me? Ask the girls!” said Daddy and winked at us both.

“Hmm... I can see the whole gang is involved in this great Cherry Theft together!” said my mother and laughed.

Soon we were giggling and laughing as we sat around the dining table preparing the ‘masala’ for the traditional Christmas plum cake a month before we would bake the cake(s).

---

And, then the great day would arrive. Daddy would sit comfortably on a chair with a huge vessel placed on the dining table. My mother and grandmother would lay out the various ingredients- eggs, maida, vanilla essence, baking powder, the golden brown sugar syrup with lemon, powdered snow white sugar, golden sunshine butter and other interesting stuff. The fragrance was heavenly. My sister and me, we would be given the duty to put in tablespoonfuls of maida into the big vessel when daddy said. My grandmother would add various ingredients while my mother whipped the egg whites to get the frothy texture, she would make numerous trips to the kitchen to get whatever was missing. When finally the cake batter looked smooth and ready, both of us sisters would get a teaspoonful to taste. Grandmother would then announce that the dry fruit mixture soaked in rum had to be added. The big glass jar would be opened by mummy and a delicious aroma would fill the dining room. Generous amounts of the stuff would be added to the cake batter and my father would continue to stir the mixture under the supervision of my grandmother and mother. When the right consistency was met with, the batter would be equally distributed in buttered dishes to be placed in the pre-heated oven. The baking would begin at about four in the evening and go up to about nine or ten at night! There would be about 15-20 cakes, you see!

And then, there was the Christmas tree to deck out and the Crib to set up and all the other decorations such as the Star, the Christmas wreaths; and various tinsels and baubles to fasten. The fragrance of burning wood and charcoal from the ‘sigri’ and the leaves of the Christmas tree made a delightful combination. We would rush from the living room to the garden to the kitchen, watch the elders at work and not be able to decide what was more exciting.

All the while, the aroma of the cake would tempt us and draw us to the oven. Both of us would peep in through the glass front to see if the cakes were rising. Grandmother would allow us to ‘poke’ the cake with a ‘twig’ kept specially to check if the cake was done or not. We eagerly learnt how that was to be done and harassed her to open the door of the oven again and again till we were shooed away and finally sent to bed as we were ‘getting in the way’ more than doing anything else.

As we used to lie in bed we would hear the interesting sounds and wonder what was going on till we drifted off to the lands of cakes and breads and cookies. We would dream of Santa Claus and his reindeers too as we snuggled in our warm quilts!

---

“Miaouwww!” mews Whitu loudly, butting my chin with his head. I float back to the present and look down at him ‘making biscuits’ on my lap.

“Whitu baby! Are you practising? Are you going to help us bake the cake this time?” I laugh as I cradle him in my arms and walk to the kitchen where my mother is busy rolling out the chappatis.

“Mummy! Whitu will help us with the Christmas delicacies this year, he says!” I quip eagerly.

“You and your Whitu! What kind of help he plans to extend? Eating them or preparing them? Knowing him I guess the former makes more sense!” grumbles my mother.

Whitu looks at her with a bored expression, blinks and has only one thing to say!

“Miaooww!”

Now I wonder what that means. If you have any idea, do tell me too!