The way we do it: Christmas festivities are rooted in local languages, food and ethos

Madhulika Liddle

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My earliest memories of Christmas celebrations date back to when I was about six years old. Every year, my parents, my sister and I would travel to Saharanpur (in Uttar Pradesh) to spend Christmas at my father’s ancestral home. Other uncles, aunts and cousins would be there too, and my grandparents would preside over the festivities. There would, of course, be much chatting and laughter and catching up with relatives whom we had not met in many months, sometimes years. We children would play all day, or improvise picnics in the large yard beside the house. But, come evening, we would all gather around in the huge drawing room and sing Christmas carols.

Our family has always been bilingual, with almost everybody at ease with both English and Hindi. Our Christmas music reflected that, but I think we always sang the Hindi carols with more joy and much greater gusto. ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ was solemn; ‘Sun Aasmaani Fauj Shareef’ had a joyous vigour to it. ‘O, Come, All Ye Faithful’, likewise, was marked by a certain gravity, which was leavened somewhat with happy fervour in its Hindustani version, ‘Ae Sab Imaandaaron’.

It wasn’t until I was older that I became aware of the many stereotypes surrounding Indian Christians. Films, TV and popular culture tended to (and still does) brand all Indian Christians as being quite westernised: wearing western clothes, speaking English and perhaps some broken and ungrammatical Hindi; eating sandwiches and roasts and other such ‘western’ dishes.

As a child, I saw none of this around me. In my immediate family, as well as among our distant relatives, the opposite held — and still holds — true. Though (like pretty much all other urban middle-class men) all male relatives wore shirts and trousers, the women wore sarees. Later, salwar-kurtas became more popular, but even in my generation, there are female relatives who feel awkward wearing western dresses. Hindi is perhaps more commonly spoken among us than English. And Christmas — from those ‘bhajans’ (carols) we love so much, to the curries and pulaos without which our feasts are incomplete — is a reflection of that general sense of identity. We are North Indians, and our Christmas is North Indian.

In the common perception about Indian Christians, the Christians of Goa, Kerala, Bombay (the ‘East Indians’) and the North-Eastern states tend to be the prominent, more ‘visible’ Christian communities. These include regions with majority populations of Christians. Nagaland (close to 88 per cent of the total population) leads the pack. North India, while it may have fewer Christians, and those not in highly visible communities, however, does have a history of Christianity.

Dishes like tikki, gajrela, aloo ke gutke overshadow Christmas cake and other goodies at a North Indian festive table

John CB Webster, in his book, ‘A Social History of Christianity: North-West India Since 1800’, discusses the work of missionaries like the American Baptists and the Welsh Presbyterians, who did much of the evangelisation in Punjab (including what’s now Himachal), Uttar Pradesh and other parts of north-west India. Webster talks about the education, social reforms, and the efforts at building the community carried out by these missionaries, in addition to, of course, the spreading of the word of God.

Among the more insightful topics Webster discusses in his book is that the missionaries, almost to a man, realised the importance of translating the ‘Bible’ and other religious texts into local languages; fostering education in the vernacular; and immersing themselves in the culture of the area in order to be more acceptable. Many of them even recognised the importance of regional traditions and culture, and made a concerted effort to include local music, art, and festivals in Christian worship.

This is probably a major reason why, all across north-western India, wherever Christian communities survive, they share much in common with their non-Christian brethren. The language is the same, the clothing, the food, even several of the customs and traditions, at least non-religious ones, are the same. And Christmas, the most visibly celebrated festival in the Christian calendar, brings all these colourful and local elements of culture together.

Bada Din (the Hindi term for Christmas, the Punjabi equivalent of which is Wadda Din) is a singularly appropriate way to describe this festival, and how it is celebrated: with the exuberance that a ‘big festival’, an important day, calls for. When I was a child and globalisation was a thing of the future, we didn’t get much tinsel or glittery mass-produced Christmas decorations. Fake Christmas trees did not exist (or at least not in the small towns where we lived), so our Christmas tree was a small cypress —what is known in Hindi as morpankhi —which we would deck up with paper streamers, white cottonwool fluffed up to resemble snow, and whatever few bells or painted glass balls we could manage, invariably bought on a rare trip to a metro like Calcutta. These days, of course, the dazzling array of ornaments available across most urban areas means that how we decorate our spaces for Christmas has changed. But there are still many homes across North India where the run-up to Christmas means a large paper star hanging outside the door or in a window; fairy lights on balconies and verandahs; paper streamers and cottonwool on little morpankhis or araucarias.

The warmth and brightness of Christmas decorations at homes and churches are, to my mind, always echoed in Christmas music, and this is where there is a much more emphatic influence of local/North Indian traditions. The languages used are Punjabi, Urdu, Hindi/Hindustani, Dogri, Pahari, etc (remember that in many Christian communities across this region, worship may be conducted entirely in the vernacular). But as much as the language, the music, the lyrics and their compositions, even down to the idioms used, may be very local. The Hindi hymns I mentioned earlier are a few which are direct translations from English hymns; there is, in addition, a huge array of hymns and carols which are completely indigenous, and have a long pedigree. In Hindi-speaking areas, for instance, among the most popular old carols are the ones like ‘Kya Din Khushi Ka Aaya, Rehmat Ka Baadal Chhaaya’; ‘Oho Masih Aaya Zameen Par, Khushi Hoti Hai Saare Aasmaan’; ‘Door Ek Taara Jaa Raha Hai, Pahunchega Ik Din Bethlehem Ko’; and ‘Mera Prabhu Janma Pyaara Prabhu Janma’: all resoundingly local, down to the delightful ‘Aage-Aage Taara, Peechhe-Peechhe Pandit Log’ reference in the last-named hymn.

Similarly, of course, there are hundreds of songs in other languages that are sung at Christmas time — by carolers going door-to-door in the weeks before Christmas; by choirs in churches and at choral gatherings; by families and friends gathering to celebrate. And, as in many parts of Punjab, in shobha yatras with much-loved dhols, daflis and chimtas — all unmistakably local musical instruments — providing the musical accompaniments. Dhols, harmoniums and clapping, by the way, are common accompaniments to Christmas carols in some of the smaller, more ‘local’ churches even in large cities like Delhi.

If Christmas music is one of the major ways in which North Indians emphasise their regional diversity, so too is Christmas food. While Christmas cake (and perhaps a handful of other ‘westernised’ Christmas goodies, such as baking powder donuts and chocolate fudge) are among the most popular delicacies, they are often swamped by much more desi favourites. In our family, namakpara, shakkarpara, baajre ki tikiyaan (deep-fried, sweet patties made from pearl millet flour) and gujiyas have always been the must-have snacks at Christmas. Other relatives and friends from across North India — from Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Garhwal and Kumaon — tell me that their Christmas pakwaan comprises similar items. Samosas (especially keema-stuffed ones) are also much-loved, though they do require a good deal of time and effort to make. Among the desserts, gulab jamuns as well as halwas of various kinds — carrot, pumpkin, sooji among them — are just as popular.

Then there are Christmas feasts: not roast turkey and Christmas puddings, but staunchly North Indian specialities. In thousands of homes, biryanis and pulaos, curries and kebabs are de rigueur, with regional dishes being added to the table here and there — aloo ke gutke, bhaang ki chutney and a spicy Pahari raita in Kumaon, for instance; or the hugely popular dal makhni in Punjab. Kachumbar or a simple salad, dahi vadas, raita and perhaps a paneer dish may be on the menu to provide some relief from the rich, heavy meat dishes, but the emphasis is generally on the meat. Christmas, for most of us, is the time to feast full-throttle.

Bada Din is here. It’s a time for rejoicing, for celebrating peace and goodwill — for most of us, in the way our forefathers (and foremothers) knew best: our indigenous way. The decorations may now be often glittery, made-in-China ones. Many of our choirs may use electronic music as an accompaniment. Perhaps in larger cities, a stollen or a panettone, bought from a fancy bakery, will be a part of the spread.

But the languages, the food, the ethos, all remain ours, solidly rooted in our land. This is our festival, an Indian celebration. Bada Din mubarak.

— The writer has co-edited the anthology ‘Indian Christmas’