N. Arhe
Two Christmas ago, my mother, in her typical style, cooked a special Christmas meal and asked me to deliver it to a relative’s home. My errand came with strict instruction to bring back the container after emptying it.
At the relative’s home, as I was greeting the family and making headway to pull out the blue plastic container from my shoulder bag, a sturdy man rushed into the room carrying a massive thing covered in newspapers. The lady of the house calmly asked the man, “So, what has your aunty sent this time?” ‘It's a piglet’, the man answered, tearing apart the newspapers to reveal what’s beneath. It was indeed a full piglet, 40 kilos for sure, cleaned and ready to be roasted. Amazed at seeing a piglet in that form for the first time, my hand paused momentarily, holding on to the warm container inside my bag. “What can you give someone who gives you a full piglet as return gift? I asked the lady in astonishment. “Oh we’ve already given them, she replied calmly. ‘Oh! So what did you give them?’ I blurted out, unable to control my curiosity. With a wry smile, she continued, “two cartons of apples and a box of Kinnu (Oranges) from an orchard in Kashmir. ‘Wow’, is all I managed to say, imagining in my mind's eye, the apples and oranges the sizes of a mini football. Sensing my amazement, the lady continued “You know this family is good to us because we helped them when they were going through a rough phase. Today, they are super rich. They made a great deal of money so rapidly; they are so blessed”. I understood what she meant.
One word that encapsulates the Christmas of my childhood was Neemki (Neemkeen) as my late grandmother calls it, and cakes. Growing up at grandma’s home, I’ve had many Neemki experiences, especially during Christmas. My late grandmother, in my opinion, used to take it to a whole different level. Around 21st to 24th December, we would stay up late, rolling on the dough, and with the tip of a sharp knife cut one across and one down to yield four triangles. The most exciting part comes in the morning. Grandma would sit next to the blazing fireplace, count an equal number of Neemkis, add two or three slices of her favourite plain cake from Jadail bakery and wrapped them loosely in old newspapers. My sisters’ and I would be given the task for home delivery, timing it with neighbours’ morning tea. Weeks after Christmas, grandma would still hand us Neemkis hidden in her trunk - wrapped nicely in-between her clothes! Sadly, with time, our Neemki experiences faded away.
Christmas has always been a special time for us in Nagaland. It is also probably the most extended celebration of the year, needless to say, the most expensive. The decors and festivities start as early as late November and go on till the end of January. It is the season for celebration and sharing. However, what has changed over the years is that meetings and celebrations have become less important and gift giving the utmost importance. These days it has become a common sight to see drivers and helpers going from house to house delivering expensive gifts losing the personal encounters and warmth of the Christmas spirit completely.
We are blessed; we live in a society that encourages giving. A generous tribe by nature, there are some amongst us who gives freely and abundantly, festivals or not, throughout the year. Today, we live amidst a crop of ‘new rich’, convinced that wealth is evidence of worth. And, to a great extent, people around us judge our worth by what we have or how much we gave. As a ‘new rich’, greed and vanity is endless and money has little value.
Nagaland may be tucked away in one corner of India, but when it comes to gifting, I have no doubt it is at par with the world wealthiest states. For the affluent and connected, the gifts are getting grandeur year by year and, the competitions, steep. Getting a Christmas basket full of goodies from around the world is not a surprise anymore - the best of French and Italian wines, Swiss chocolates, special Christmas cookies from Harrods have all made their rounds in the Christmases past, for some.
I came across a Greek word recently called ‘haplotes’. It means ‘simplicity, sincerity, purity, of mind.’ This word instantaneously reminded me of an extraordinary woman who has been giving us gifts, especially to my mother, for as long as I can remember. What is so special about the way she gives is that, no matter what is inside, she wraps them beautifully with much care and love, including a mandatory handwritten card. There’s a lesson in the way she gives. First, she does not hoard. She gives out anything - it can be a cake, piece of jewellery, a shawl and always with copies of magazines that her family subscribes to. When they finished reading, she would neatly packed it in a carton box and sent it to us. Today, as we are older, we realised how gift giving could change and shape a younger person’s perspective in life. We remain ever grateful to this wise woman, who I am sure is also an inspiration to many others.
Every year around Christmas, a video about media mogul and philanthropist, Oprah Winfrey goes around WhatsApp. In the video, she shared her story of a lonely Christmas when her family was too poor to afford gifts, and how much it meant when a group of nuns visited their home with food and toys. That experience borne in her a desire to help others, she said.
This Christmas may we keep the true spirit of the festival, and give more to those who have less than us, with just a simple act of loving-kindness.
The writer can be reached at nonarhe@gmail.com
