Debasish Chowdhury
The natural ambiance seems to have, for once more, returned to its festive attire. The soft warmth of the morning sun at the crack of the dawn, tiny dewdrops on grass tips sparkling like bright little diamond dots, the deep azure apparel of the sky spread unto horizon, the relaxed look in the eyes of children leisurely enjoying the temporary reprieve from the maddening school rush, the ringing church bells gradually rising to its crescendo, the Santa Clause assurance of dream gifts for every kid, naughty or gentle, the local carol team enthralling the young and the old with their door to door visits as dusk descends out on the lawn have all returned to us once again to announce aloud that another Christmas is knocking at our doors.
Festivals of all hues in this age of ours, no matter from which religion and in which place they originate from, are hardly strictly religious in nature. Overriding their religious flavour, they often, graduate into social festivities that no more remain confined to the narrow boundaries of nation, society, language, ethnicity and whatever else kind of identity one may like to think of. Christmas too in that sense is hardly a purely Christian festival. Coming of Christmas to a host lot of us as such is the return of an all-endearing festival. Cutting across all perceivable boundaries that seek to divide and differentiate one man from the other, this most widely celebrated birth anniversary in the world has long transformed itself into a true carnival of love, compassion and humanity. Christmas celebration, even for the non-Christians also is a festival dear enough to adore and belong to.
Christmas being a celebration of love and empathy, it perhaps demands of us to at least note, if nothing else, with a sense of deep disquiet the scores of lives we keep on losing almost on a routine basis due to the countless instances of violent conflicts and clashes that keeps on disturbing the lives of our fellow brethren at home and elsewhere. Most of such deaths and the consequent sufferings they cause in the lives of people indeed are not only avoidable but are grossly unwarranted. Remember the poor Syrian toddler washed ashore dead by the gushing sea waves at Bodrum beach?
The failed attempt by the hapless parents of that innocent kid to rescue the family to safety by moving away from the spot of unabated violence close to home only resulted in the death of the three year old far before he could reach the age to understand who is fighting whom for what end to achieve. The picture of little Azlan lying on the beach dead in his red T-shirt and little shoes still tied to his little feet that would walk no more on this earth went viral in the media drawing bitter contempt and condemnation from all over. But that is all that the world could do. Months down the line, the fight carries on without us rising in revolt to say stop this madness right here and right now. Our ability to be compassionate, it seems, has taken a beating long ago.
Nearer at home, things do not seem greatly delighting either. The long drawn and seemingly unending toil of the people in strife torn J & K, Manipur and even coastline states of Andhra, Telengana, the hostilities, both natural and manmade that our brave soldiers face day in and day out while guarding our borders, the mob lynching of a human life for an alleged crime ruled punishable by a kangaroo court overriding the law of the land or the suicide by Rohit Vemula for the alleged mistreatment meted out to him by authorities and fellow compatriots alike are all pointers that we too are not making great strides in upholding the essence of the wisdom we often boastfully claim as our rightful inheritance.
The audacious demonetisation drive, the latest of the moves so far to redeem this country from the clutches of unabashed corruption, despite the upheaval it has caused to us, the ordinary foot soldiers on whose shoulders rests the pride of our grand democracy seems to have also not delivered the desired result. The ever shifting contour of the expected outcome from the massive exercise hints at the gross failure in planning and execution of the intended operation. Apparently the inept anticipation of the probable impact that can befall the nation consequent upon such a gigantic exercise now leaves our Christmas at home largely a dull affair. A cash starved people, the poor and not so poor alike, would be compelled to celebrate this Christmas in a largely gift less and therefore much less joyful environment particularly for the children of these families. The yearlong anxious wait for a joyous Christmas this year in our blessed motherland, despite the grand promises from the offices of the authorities, is likely to be much lack lustre then it ever had been in the recent past.
Christmas, being a global festival, however, would be celebrated elsewhere with its usual pomp and gaiety. A little more than 2.2 billion of us (about 32.0% of the world population) consider ourselves Christians and, therefore, participates in this celebration as followers of Christ whose single most emphasis was on love; love for self, for nature and for all human beings. By the by, though not one in the category of the organised religions, Hinduism, one of the oldest surviving religion in the world owes its allegiance from about 14.0% of the world population as on date and takes pride in the ancient wisdom of their religion that millenniums ago dared to declare ‘Basudhiaba Kutumbakam” – the whole world is a family. Much of the sagacity, courage and compassion that enabled the wise ancestors to consider humanity as family, sadly, seem wanting these days. Our temples and churches rarely radiate the aura that is divine and reassuring. They often sum up as mere statements of power demanding obeisance and abiding servitude rather than distributing an all-embracing spirit of love and empathy to light our souls up.
A look at the Atlas of the world would reveal that the coastline at Bodrum, Turkey where little Azlan was washed ashore by the sea waves lies less than a thousand kilometres away from Bethlehem, the holy city where Jesus, the star of Christmas celebration was born some two millennia ago. Physically, the distance is at best a nominal one in today’s high paced techno crazy world. In terms of love, compassion and empathy and going by the hard experiences that life thrusts upon us in this modern civilised world, the distance often looks like an unsurpassable one to cover. Little Azlan’s dead frame lying on the sea shore was a terse indictment of humanity exposing into open the ugly truth that despite our claimed allegiance to the Lord of love, we actually have miserably failed to stand upright in support of what he preached and for what he himself had sacrificed his life on the holy cross.
We live in troubled times that often deny us the sagacity to live in peace. It is an age of conflicts and contradictions. Technology has made our lives fast but distorted its mission in such a way that nothing but speed and profit perhaps make any sense to us these days. We live in an era in which top of the brand medicine is available off the shelf but the curative healing touch needed to recover from sickness is missing. Our education has become a commodity. Its utility value rather than its life enriching role is what only seem to matter these days. Amidst plentiful resources, we are condemned to live in abject penury.
Still Christmas returns to us at the year end. And, when Christmas comes calling by, we do respond and prepare us for the celebration. The Stars lit atop our decorated homes serves to assure that the divine blessing is upon us. At each Christmas, we miss a few who adored our lives with their colourful presence. We miss them knowing well that someday we too would not be around and hoping diffidently that someone might then also recall us in the passing. Life, meanwhile, would carry on.
Coming of Christmas also serves an advance notice that another year from our lives is almost on its way out. And, as the year draws to a close, it perhaps softens us at the core to pause for a while to have a relook at the days we would never get to live again. The dying days of the year are solemn moments to record our heartfelt gratitude wherever they are due, to take note of the mistakes we committed and to pledge not to repeat them again. In paying our homage to the bygone, let us ready ourselves to welcome the new with an open heart. In resolutely abiding by the faith that the Lord of love would reign supreme in our hearts this Christmas and ever after; wish you, dear reader, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
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(Debasish Chowdhury is presently working as Controller of Examinations, Sikkim University) .