Christmas in the Blue Mountains

Narrated by six-year-old, the story is situated in Wellington in the Nilgiris. The Anglo-Indian governess has christened the narrator’s older sister, ‘Porridge’. A short excerpt from Porridge & I, a forthcoming novel by Dr. Roopali. A Special Feature, exclusively for Different Truths.  

Christmas is a happy day. Everybody has forgotten the sad face of Jesus on the Cross. We are busy getting ready for Baby Jesus to be born. A big bright star in the sky at night has talked to shepherds feeding their thin and hungry sheep in the high meadows near a place called Jerusalem.  

It asked them to follow it to a cow place in Bethlehem where Mary has given birth to a really sweet baby boy who will save the whole world. 

Three Kings, who also want to be saved telephoned the shepherds and took the address of the cow place where baby Jesus is staying with his parents Mary and Joseph. The three Kings will now travel many miles to visit them.

Poor Shepherds

The poor shepherds only have their sheep, but the Kings are very rich and very wise, and have boxes of gold and chocolate and some other stuff. Miss Haley told us the other stuff is a medicine called myrrh, which will be used for rubbing Jesus when he dies on the Cross. How did the Kings know?

It is written that God will send his Only Beloved Son to save the world and some foolish people who don’t want to be saved will kill him. But they won’t be able to kill him.

Mother says that Lord Krishna told Arjuna that nothing can kill or destroy God. Water cannot drown Him, fire cannot burn Him, wind cannot blow Him away, and the Earth cannot swallow Him. Both Jesus and Krishna say that God lives inside us. Which means no one can kill us!

For the night before Christmas, we have made cows and sheep out of clay and a cow place with straw that we have pulled out of Father Dudley’s garden scarecrow’s nose, and an old baby doll and a doll mother in a blue dress and three king-looking funny faces with beards like card kings made out of cardboard and gold paper. The kings brought gifts of Kit Kat chocolates and a gold coin chocolate. 

Scent Bottle

We don’t know what myrrh looks like and Father says it is some kind of perfume. Hearing that Porridge has taken Mother’s round scent bottle that has a green pump made out of some net thing. She had taken it without asking Mother and kept it near the Three Kings. A thief has stolen it and Porridge is frightened. 

When Mother came to know she was very upset because Father had given it to her on her birthday. She called us to her room and told us, “Taking something, which belongs to somebody else without asking that person means stealing.”

Like what robbers do. Porridge cried because she never wanted to rob Mother’s scent bottle. She did it for Jesus. She was only returning to Jesus what is His. Then she began to fight. Mother, she said, has no right to what belongs to Jesus. Father Dudley says so. 

Porridge has gone to bed without supper. She has been saying all these rude things to Mother. Doris, Mother says, is not teaching Porridge and me anything at all. “Doris is wasting everybody’s time.”

The Church

In the church, little Tamil boys dressed in white began to sing “Glory to the King.” They sang about Jesus.  Porridge has stopped crying for the big Jesus who still hangs sadly out of his cross. We are busy planning his birthday party. Cook has baked six chocolate cakes full of raisins and little coloured bits of candy. 

He has also stuffed a turkey bird with potatoes, bread, peas, nuts, and raisins after plucking it of all its soft feathers. Cooking the guinea fowls will be difficult. Porridge has seen them. They are pecking grains behind the Cook House built in 1856. 

Porridge doesn’t know they are going to be cooked. The guinea fowls also don’t know.  At night Porridge and I are going to hang our stockings on the mosquito net pole. You see Santa Claws will come all the way from the far-far away North Pole in a snow sledge driven by red nose Rudolph and his reindeer. 

Their horns look like branches of trees. We are curious and wondering how he will come down through the chimney at the dead of night.  He will fill our stockings without getting stuck because he is really quite fat. I have seen his photographs. Doris says if a cat wants to know too much somebody will kill it. 

Father Dudley

Father Dudley was shouting from the high table in the church, “Only the believer will receive gifts. Faith can move mountains.” I know Faith is the parlour girl in the church. “Ask and thou shalt receive, said the Lord.” Father Dudley screamed.  

So, Porridge and I have written letters to Santa Claws, asking him for things we have seen in English magazines. A postman comes all the way from England with these magazine books for Mother. 

One Christmas we asked for a yo-yo. Another time for a pair of red and white woollen gloves. That’s because Mother said we should ask for sensible gifts. Our letters to the North Pole always reach him. And Santa never says NO. Only once we asked for a fur coat and a white horse and Santa Claws brought Kit Kat chocolates and orange cream biscuits Made in England. 

 “The Imperial might of Britain can be seen in all the gifts Santa Claus brings. It’s all the way from the North Pole,” Father says. I saw him wink at Doris our governess.  She bent her head back shook her hair like a wet dog and laughed like a hyena. 

Old Santa

With her gooseberry jam voice Mother tried to make us feel sorry for Santa who is old, “Fur coats and horses are too heavy, darlings. Santa is growing old and has to carry so many things for so many children all over the world. If you love him, you should not trouble him.” 

We love Jesus too. Is he not growing old, too? Why is everybody always troubling Jesus with “do this for me do that for me. Why can’t Santa bring us a fur coat and a horse? He can put the fur coat on the horses back and let the horse pull his sleigh.”

Mother wanted us to feel sorry for Santa Claws just because he was old. He has been old for many, many years. Porridge groaned and moaned till Mother told us to behave. Porridge puffed up her face like a frog. Her skin blew up into goose pimples.

“Santa doesn’t bring gifts for naughty children.” Mother scolded. “He only reads letters written by good children.”  So, Santa hardly ever read our letters!  Yet we never stopped writing …. Dear Santa. If not, a fur coat then could he get us both a small boat?  Or how about some magic beans? It is difficult to be good. If you are bad then Maggie says, “Jesus will beat you.”

Lots of Goodies

Porridge wants lots of goodies. Father Dudley howled, “Jesus won’t let a rich man enter heaven. Too many things to carry and too fat to enter through the eye of a needle. Blessed are the poor for they shall enter the kingdom of God.” Poor people are thin.  Doris says hunger is good for health. 

“In Heaven you will be denied nothing.” Not even fur coats and white horses? In heaven you are allowed to grow fat. Porridge and I are not happy with things that Santa brings for those who can’t always be good. Chocolates and biscuits! Now we will only write to Jesus.

The branch cut off the pine tree stuck into a tin drum hung out its droopy leaves filled with glass balls, silver stars, strips of coloured paper, bits of cotton snow and gold wrapped candy. 

The party is full of fun, and everybody is laughing, and we don’t care that we are “Hindoos” and won’t be allowed to go to heaven. Doris says we can’t go. A camel can go. 

Baby Jesus

We are very happy for Baby Jesus. His pictures on the greeting cards are really sweet. The cards which have come from America and England have snowflakes and small cottages. This pink and white baby in a straw bed looks like it is a Doris baby. It has rosy-red cheeks like English babies. 

Uncle Muthuswamy Iyengar says Jesus was born in Africa. Doris is sure he is pucca English. She says Jerusalem is a place near her home in London. “Doris, do you know Jesus?”

“Don’t be stupid! I am not that old.” Doris laughs without being happy.  How old is baby Jesus or Jesus on the cross?  “Two thousand years old.” Mother says. Why didn’t he come to his birthday party? 

I want to say Merry Christmas!

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