Christmas Plans

December brings my parents, who come for just a couple to days to make sure I'm not being scammed. They leave, somewhat mollified, but not without commenting pointedly that I still dress like I'm living in the gaon (village). I think the ahimsa (non-violence) vow must be working, because instead of giving my usual caustic retort (“So?”) I say mildly that I'll think about it.

Though I doubt Gandhi would have celebrated Christmas (as a tolerant man he would have supported the expression of faith, but most likely would have balked at the consumerism), this doesn't seem to bother me as I experience Christmas for the second time in India, and the second time without my family.

It's different this time around, as I'm in a city where I can delight in fake snow flakes and trees twinkling with little lights. This time last year I was teaching the village kids about Christmas, failing when I didn't know the Hindi words for Three Wise Men, the Baby Jesus, or sleighs. This year there is the addition of a tiny tree with little ornaments on my desk at work. I never really cared about Christmas before, but I think it's my way of getting back at Christmas for being on a Sunday, which I would have had off anyway.

Christmas this year also means no presents, but it's ok because I have a frisbee and two friends, Anupam and Dhanajay. We take my disc to and organization called Jamghat, which works with girls from low- income communities. We spend a couple of hours teaching the girls, aged 5- 15, to throw and catch the disc. Some are better than others, but it doesn't matter because they all smile. And we find ourselves smiling back. I don't know if Anupam could have seen it coming that he'd be such a huge hit with Varsha, who demands that he pick her up, or that I think Dhananjay's mission in life should be to teach 5-year- olds how to hold a disc. Better still when we see one of the 5-year-olds teach one of the four- year-olds how to throw with one hand, when Dhananjay rewards first-time catches with a sincere congratulatory hand shake.

The entire experience reminds me of my Indicorps year. From the time we walk in and whisper, “Do we have a plan?” To which my response is “Oh of course not, but don't worry about it, I know a ton of songs and games.” Then till the time we leave, when the girls crowd around us and ask when we'll be coming back. I can't really think of a good answer, so I give the honest one. That we'll come when we can. I fuss over the sustainability, measuring impact but then I shove it all aside. I learned to measure my year in smiles and hugs, little hands thrust into your hand, eyes lighting up with joy when a disc dropped ten times has just been caught- and I don't plan to change my indicators.

My heart aches a little as we leave, but the good kind of ache. The sort of ache when you realize that you are blessed, and that you have the capacity to love fully, fiercely.

As I get ready for bed I start when I see that my outfit for the day was a red kurta, white salwar, and white dupatta. It's almost-- almost irony I think.

But I'm no Santa, I'm just Sumita, and maybe there is always more I can do. But I can't deny that I just experienced one of my favorite Christmases ever. 

Happy Holidays everyone!