For the Thursday Challenge .. LIGHTS (Holiday Lights, Candles, Street Lights, Fireplace, Fireworks,…). That’s the most recent one — our very own Christmas tree.
Let there be light
Now that’s what I call a rocking Christmas
Isn’t it funny how sometimes nothing goes according to plan yet everything turns out fine. And so it was that we had a wonderful Christmas party.
First it was the venue. We wanted to have the party in the society clubhouse but were denied permission because no ‘religious’ functions were allowed. It’s not like we were planning on having mass or anythingL. We were told we could have a party but not a ‘Christmas Party’. So it shouldn’t be on the 24th, there should be no Santa, no tree, no gifts. We found another venue before we lost our heads over the mindless suggestions. A friend’s place it had to be.
Preparations for the party got underway. The cake was ordered, the sandwiches sampled (I enjoyed that part.. he he), the decorations were bought and the gifts chosen. We were on track.
Then some legal work came up and we had to be in Mumbai right on the 24th. Sigh! Considering it was Government work we had no idea how long it would take. Anyway we were up at 5.30 and on our way by 6.30 so we could get back by the evening. Four hours on the road, three very very long hours at the Registry office (where the kids drove us up the wall) and then another four hours on the road and we were back home. Rush rush rush … bath, dry hair, dress up and walk out all in half hour and we were at the party right in time.
Then the guy who was supposed to deliver sandwiches backed out. Dominoes came to our rescue with prompt service and super hot pizzas.
The Christmas Tree looked beautiful. The red and white balloons, the streamers, the carols and above all the kids dressed in their brilliant reds turned everything Christmasy. The home was warm and cosy. We’re glad we were ditched by the clubhouse.
We started off with musical chairs. It was a funny kind of ‘ruleless’ game. The kids cris- crossed across and between the chairs. They ran around them and wouldn’t stop even when the music stopped. They sat when they wanted to. They refused to be eliminated — the eliminated ones simply carried their chairs and got back in the game.
Then we thought we’d try the ‘statue’ game.. where they had to freeze when the music stopped. It was the same story all over again and so we left them to dance while we caught up with each other.
Next morning Santa delivered the long-awaited gifts and was thanked over and over again with promises of being good ‘all of next year’. The evening was time for a family get-together. While Hrit watched the telly Santa hopped over again and deposited the gifts right under his nose without him catching a glimpse of the much loved old man. The poor boy has been going nuts trying to figure out how he did it. Pat on the back for smart mama J.
Then surprise surprise my 9-year-old niece managed to put the twins to sleep while we adults had a peaceful dinner.
I made up for my sad Diwali with a rocking Christmas. Happiness is complete.
Angels, Demons and Santa
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| Pic: Google imges |
It’s Santa season. All of December I take a back seat and every threat and bribe is channeled through him. “Drink up your milk or Santa won’t get you a gift”, “Keep your specs on or Santa won’t get a gift for you”, “Too much TV and Santa won’t..”, on and on.
My ever thoughtful daughter wondered what I was getting for Christmas..
N: Mama what is santa getting for you?
Me: I don’t know. What do you think he should get?
N: (After much thought) I think I’ll ask him to get you ten nailpaints. (Point to be noted: 10 is the hugest number in her imagination and nail paints the ideal gift)
Me: But I hardly wear nail paint, what’ll I do with ten?
N: ummmm… then I think I’ll ask him to get you a pink laptop.
Indeed the ideal gift!
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| Pic: Google images |
One specially bad day when I was low on patience and H was completely out of control I introduced him to the angel and demon. I told him they both lived in his head. Each time he did something naughty the devil would become stronger and each time he did something nice the angel would become stronger. Finally one of the two would take over completely depending on how he behaved.
To my surprise he took it all a bit too seriously. Now when he does something naughty all I have to do is feel his head pretending to look for horns, or his bottom to ‘check’ for a tail. And he completely freaks out. Heh heh heh… Gotcha H boy.
Ah the pleasures of motherhood.
Getting artsy craftsy
I’d actually been meaning to do this post on kid crafts for Diwali. I’d written part of it too then just felt too lazy and gave it up. Thanks to Mindfulmeanderer here I am doing it finally. Thanks Shruti for the push.
Designer Diyas
What we need: Plain diyas (they come at a rupee a piece), Acrylic paints, Rangeela glitter tubes.
What we did: We began with washing off the diyas so they absorb less paint. Then I got the kids to paint them.. you’ll see a lot of blues because my son was the more enthusiastic one! Then we did some simple designs with the glitter tubes. The nozzles are quite kid friendly but I did lend a hand.
We also did some diyas with sequins. The kids used toothpicks to apply fevicol and then stuck on the sequins. Kept them busy for hours while I got my cleaning done.
Diya streamers
What we need: Sheets of plain white paper, Oil pastels or water colours, Rangeela glitter tubes, Gota/ribbon
What we did: I drew a simple diya then cut it out. (I folded the paper over before cutting it out so I got multiple cutouts in one go). Then I got the kids to colour/paint them. Oil pastels work better than regular crayons. Then we outlined them with the glitter tubes and left them to dry. Finally, we punched holes and strung them out on the gota or ribbon.
Diwali cards
What we need: Paper, Oil pastels
What we did: I drew simple designs.. diyas, flowers, stars … sometimes I threw in a basic border and got them to colour it. Simple.
Diwali is where the home is
Yessss! I won. The kids did it for me this time. Here’s what the judge Bhawna of An Indian Summer had to say about my post.
Tulika: I relived my train journeys to Lucknow as a child through your post. Not that I travelled without a reservation 
, but the experience of taking a night train and then taking the rickety auto rickshaws (what are they called again?) once out of the railway station – all came back to me. The fact that you made it for Diwali as a surprise – I am sure, it must be your family’s favorite dinner table story 
. But the winning stroke of your post was the gorgeous handiwork of your four year old twins! Thanks for sharing the early works of the two very talented artists currently residing in your home! ”
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| Pic Courtesy: Google Images |
There’s something about Diwali that makes me want to go home. And each year I did, for many many years. All was well till I was in Delhi.. home was a night’s journey away and life was cool. Then I moved to Bombay. I thought I was all grown up and could handle being away from home. A few weeks to Diwali and the longing started. I can handle it, I reiterated, I’m a big girl. Diwali got closer. Activity in office hotted up, more so because I was in the business of stocks. Brokers poured in with gifts and sweets. Everyone, yes everyone seemed to be headed home. They waved their reservation tickets proudly. Everyone else seemed to be perpetually on the phone checking their reservation status. I didn’t even have a ticket. The longing kicked in real bad.
A week before, I became desperate. Of course by then reservations were full and there was no chance I was ever getting home other than by travelling on the train roof, something I wasn’t really keen on doing. Then, like a messenger from God, I got a call from an ex classmate who was also going to Lucknow and had tickets to spare. I shamelessly piled on along with another friend, double pile on. Then I discovered all his tickets were waitlisted. “They will get confirmed”, he assured us, “my uncle’s in the Railways”. The three of us reached the station only to find the uncle had failed us – just one ticket had been confirmed.
Interestingly, the moment other passengers realise you do not have a valid ticket you become an outsider and they tacitly gang up against you, and so they did. Oh I’ll never forget those scornful stares that seemed to say, “Aajkal ke ladke ladkiyan….” followed by thoughts of unmentionable things they were capable of. They checked the locks and chains on their luggage as if we would make off with it all. We sat through it, closing our eyes and ears to everything, chatting about our respective jobs and reminiscing college days.
Then the TT came along and we seemed to be in imminent danger of being thrown out. We talked and pleaded, argued and haggled to be allowed to just sit in the compartment. We did have one seat, didn’t we? The ‘uncle’ came to our rescue. Name dropping does wonders in India and we had our permissions. The TT retired grudgingly saving the worst stare for me.
That 26 hour journey squeezed together on a single seat with two boys is unforgettable.
I was given the privileged window seat by my chivalarous friends. By 10 the co-passengers switched off the lights and by 10.30 I was nodding off too. By 11 I was longing to stretch my legs and by 11.30 I was wondering why I came at all. I rested by head at the window and stretched out my legs sprawling on my one third seat. My head rolled with the train’s pace and its steady rhythm seemed to say.. sleep sleep sleep.. except there was to be no sleep.
The night was interminable. We got off at every platform through the night, welcoming the sounds of “chai chai”. Drinking endless cups of tea gave us something to do. Somewhere during the early hours we all fell asleep in one tired heap. We woke up on Diwali day with the muted morning sun upon us through the dark glass windows. The co-passengers seemed in a much better humour. Perhaps the morning cup of tea had warmed them, or maybe it was just the relief that we weren’t the goondas they’d thought us or was it simply the miracle of Diwali… they struck up human conversations with us. By 9.30 the train ambled onto the platform. We said our goodbyes and hopped onto rickshaws. That was another first.. a pampered me had always had my dad receive me at the station.. but this was different.. it was meant to be a surprise.
Anyone who’s sat on a cycle rickshaw knows of its dawdling nawabi pace. By the time I reached home I was almost hopping on the seat from frustration and excitement. That homecoming will always be very very special.
I don’t think I have it in me to do it again, ever. But that year I did get home…. and it was well worth it. The look on my mom’s face when she saw me made it MORE than worth it.
Afterword:
I kept up the trend for many years even after I was married. Diwali saw me making my way from Delhi, Mumbai, Bhopal, Pune.. wherever I was, all the way home and it was always worth it.. always. Things changed only after I had my twins. I leave you with some pictures of their handiwork this Diwali.
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| Hard at work |
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| The finished products |
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| A diya streamer |
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| Some of their Diwali cards |
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| If this seems a tad drab remember it was done entirely by the kids (other than lighting the candles) for I was down with fever on Diwali day this year and couldn’t leave the bed |
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