Christmas Cheer
(This is in remembrance of the days running up to Christmas in an Anglo-Indian home in a small town in
India. Some of the words are distinctly Anglo-Indian. I wonder if there is anyone on Poetry Soup who can
relate?)
It’s a December evening, we’re back from school
The house feels nippy for a breeze, nice and cool
Wafts through the trellis, while Papa gives a rendition
Of carols that herald an annual family tradition
Mummy’s come back with bread, eggs and flour
We little children, get ready for many an interesting hour
Of digging our fingers into a tub full of batter
As the house vibrates with loud, cheerful chatter
It’s that time again, that time of the year
For, cul-culs and cake and Christmas’ cheer
To roll out on forks, an Anglo-Indian delight
And to grease the cake tins with all our might
As Mum-mum calls out for us to ‘take care
Or we might fall into the oil that’s boiling there’
Which is ready, of course, to splutter and crackle
As we dip in forked creations of eggs, flour and butter
The whole family sits at the dining room table
Each one doing what he or she is able
And stories are told of Christmases past
While ros-a-cookies are into the boiling oil, cast
When the whipping and blending has been done
And the cake’s in the oven, it is time for more fun
So we lick our fingers with many a hearty smack
As we enjoy this tasty pre-cooked snack
That comes for us, only once every year
A time that is filled with memories dear
As carols croon in the chill evening air
And family stories, Papa, does joyfully share
It’s been years now, since I have had such fun
And I hope, I can, one day relive it with my son
Those hours spent in a house on a railway colony
Hours that I now recall, with a smile and much glee.
Hours that have since made nostalgia smile
Hours that have made childhood worth the while.
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