Destination: Christmas #12

This Christmas series is brought to you thanks to Book Riot’s Literary Advent Calendar. It’s a combination of poetry, short stories, and essays. I’ll be posting every day, some days twice to keep up with my regular posts. Click the story title for the full text. Now, let’s get this Christmas show on the road!

Day 12

Christmas in India

I hope your Saturday has been full of joy and merryment and cheer and some more joy. Because I love you. I’ve spent today baking up a (faulty) storm. My fruit cake came out too rummy and the dough for my cookies was impossible to work with. However, tomorrow is another day and I will try, try again. Look at me persevering, kindergardeners would be proud.

Today’s selection was really unexpected. Not because the text itself was great, because poetry that rhymes so obviously annoys me. But rather because forces you to think beyond yourself and your own experience of Christmas. It pushes you to imagine Christmas somewhere else, somewhere where it’s not White, but saffron yellow. Christmas for people who don’t have the luxury of fretting over the trivial things that seem monumental during the season. I don’t know about you, but I never sit down to consider the Holidays as an experience outside of myself. And it sounds shallow, but unless it’s a conscious exercise (like now) it’s always a non-issue. Having read the poem now I can’t help but wonder what other Christmas experiences are out there. What food do people make? How is the music different? What does the marriage of religion and culture result in? It’s quite an interesting subject, when you think about it!

Something else that caught my attention was the general tone of the poem. Usually Christmas anythings tend to be about hope, union, happiness, this one is almost the polar opposite of that. It speaks of pain and aching, of hopelessness and forced laughter. It depicts a very practical approach to Christmas, almost like it’s a nuisance. Which is something that I’ve never associated with Christmas. It makes sense though in the context of the poem, right?

I’ll keep contemplating my shallow existence, while you guys go on about your day (or night).

Have a good one, readers!

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