Author’s note;
Christmas is not an occasion for celebration. Christmas was conceived as a social opportunity for Christians to remember the mission of Jesus Christ and renew their commitment to social and economic justice for which Jesus sacrificed his blood. It is an occasion to reflect on the holy commandment of love. In the words of Christ “I was hungry and you fed me not, I was thirsty and you comforted me not, I was in prison and you visited me not and I was sick and you attended me not”
Have we celebrated any Christmas with Jesus Christ? I have my own reservations on this. Except a very few, say Mother Theresas, majority of us are guilty of rejecting the golden commandment of our Lord.
Here is a heart rendering real life story narrated by a priest friend.
Why Christ was born?
The question entered deep into his heart as lightning accompanied by thunder and destabilized him. Rev. Fr. Ignatius, the new parish priest of St. Michel parish stood immobilized against the roaring waves. Jacqueline was holding the infant on her shoulder and it was all in slumber not having the least idea of the emotional breakdown of her dear mom.
The eldest, Nisha, still sobbing with dried eyes, was sheltering her head on the right side of her mother. A sense of guilt enveloped his heart as he had no answer to the question of Jacqueline ‘Why Jesus was born.
It was not a theological question thrown at him in a seminar to give a scholastic reply but a question coming out from a bleeding wound questioning the ethics of Christmas and the mission of Christ.
“It is time to celebrate the real Christmas” his lips silently murmured with a resolve.
Mary was an ordinary average kind of the fisher folk community in Kottilpadu, a remote fishing hamlet in Kanyakumari district. Every gene of her had been acclimatized to the cultural values and belief system of the coastal community. One thing that differentiated from the rest is her faculty of critical thinking which she might have inherited from one of her black sheep ancestors.
Being the only child of a loving father who was respected by the entire fishermen community of the tiny Kottilpadu, Mary was tolerated for her out of the common way of thinking’ both within the house and within the community for two reasons.
Her father, Francis – Francheese as he was addressed in the hamlet – enjoyed the respect the community. He was an active member of the parish council. Besides, a hard working and honest middle class fisherman having a boat and other means of production to provide employment to four fishermen coolies in his out board motor fitted vallam.
The tragic death of her mother had been still lingering as a painful memory in the whole village. The entire village, particularly the youth and men folk, had been indifferent to her stand against alcohol.
Francis was considered as ‘a saint’ in the village as he would drink only on Sundays.
When Francis was searching for an appropriate bridegroom for Mary, his focus was on a hard working honest youth. That the candidate George would consume alcohol once in a week, normally on Sunday was received with mild smile of approval “so what?”
The marriage relieved Francis of his final responsibility in life and he thought he would be more liberal in alcohol. Except hard work and honesty, George had nothing, either physical features or mental capabilities to attract a girl. But Jacqueline had the natural beauty and scored higher than George. The sociability of Jacqueline was high supported by her skills in fine arts – folk dance and singing which she inherited from being a member in the cultural troupe of the local parish. George was a social recluse that received a respectful acceptance in the violent and rough community.
George was a good boy in the coastal village of Colachel. After the marriage, he was even much reformed. He stopped alcohol and tasted it only on Christmas and new-year. Thus George joined the elite band of alcohol free adults in the village. The adolescent girls and married women envied the good fortune of Jacqueline. Somebody giggled during the leisure time with a concealed envy and even made fun of her” what black magic you have to transform George”
The partly educated village community had very poor understanding of the damage done to the emotional intelligence of the child by the alcoholic parent. George was one such, of course, with a gentlemanly behaviour.
The first and second Christmas passed off with no untoward incident in the life of Jacqueline. But George started exhibiting symptoms of his inability to manage his emotions and control over alcohol. Jaqueline is now the mother of two children.
Much water had flown under the Thames since then and she had then acclimatized to the changed environment. However, she would pray fervently every December that Jesus would change the mind of George.
However, she had been the darling of the women and youth in Colachel. Her only comfort in life was that whenever George went mad during the Christmas, it was the youth and women who not only protected her but even chastised George for his crossing the limit.
Unfortunately, George was slowly losing his control over his emotional management with the passing of every Christmas.
Jacqueline witnessed the climax during the last Christmas when George was at his lowest elements. He was simply uncontrollable. He started beating Jacqueline mercilessly for no reason even though he spared his children. Uncharacteristic of him, he started abusing and even threatening to attack those who came forward to protect Jaqueline.
Lucas, the Secretary of Vincent De Paul, was a youth of different metal. He dared to control Francis by force and even threatened him with dire consequences if he failed to behave properly. George calmed down.
As a last resort, she approached her father-like a whimpering child from the school embracing the shoulder of her mother with a bundle of petitions- to intervene and save her from the hell.
Entire coast was literally up in arms against her as such was the Mr. Clean image George had with the people. The old ladies even showed their open disapproval that Jaqueline violated the cultural values and the responsibility of a wife and mother.
‘The hand that beats also embraces’ – the traditional proverb decided the fate of Jaqueline.
Finally Francis consoled her and even went to the extent of advising her to adjust with George.
“Jackie” – he used to call her when he was ‘high’ with alcohol – “who is not beating a wife in the coast. You see child, the fishermen are really very rough and tumultuous like the sea but they also very love creatures in the world. Please Jackie, please …” His voice broke down and he whimpered for a while before breaking down into uncontrollable cry.
Alas! Darkness dawned upon Jaqueline. Like a child lost in the crowded festival and crying in agony for the comfort of its mother, she was, for the first time in her life, yelled out from her stomach and cried loudly for the help of her mother who vanished into the thin air long ago but remained as a half forgotten dream in her faint memory.
“Enough, enough” she murmured faintly unto herself. Enough that she had crashed through the iron gates of life, bleeding, writhing in pain and crying in agony over the numbing pain in her soul.
Her mother, who was with God in the Heaven, was her last hope.
The innocent but hopeless faces of her only assets prevented her from bidding good bye to life. Somehow, she dragged her life like an emotionless camel strolling along the pathless expanse of the scorching desert till the next Christmas.
The advent of next Christmas sent a chilling pain along her spine. She had been suffering from nightmarish dreams throughout the fourth week of December. To make matters worse, this time her neighbors, particularly Lucas and the old lady Kanikoornthal – her two reliable lieutenants in the entire village – had informed her in advance that they had enough with Jaqueline and Francis and asked her very politely to manage George.
24th night is the time for revelry- exploding joys accompanied by the cracking of fireworks, giggling happy faces of children illumined by the twinkling stars, exchanging fragrant candy and cakes with neighbors, flashing signals through Cupid’s arrow – for everyone except Jaqueline.
Her children were lost in the missiles exploding in the high skies and showering a rain of radiant colors that illuminated the dark sky. The little darling of Jacqueline occasionally shuddered at the thudding explosion of ‘vedi’ – the local slang for festival bombs- but recovered quickly to join the chuckling of her sister.
Jacqueline was busy in making sweets for her two angels. A deep ache pierced through her heart and she sat motionless for a moment.” It is he, it is he” she muttered. She forgot the fire and the boiling oil in the iron cheenachatti. She ran out to confirm her suspicion. “Oh Jesus” the deep yell shook her children from their dreamy vacation.
Hell broke out inside her house. George kicked the cheenachatti with the half baked sweets out in the floor, threw the x’ mas clothes of the children into the burning fire and started beating the children with stuttering words” you dirty devils! You are the burden in my life”
On seeing her children being beaten up, Jaqueline roared from her throat, separated her children from the clutches of George and pushed him into the wall. Like a cat holding its kitten in its mouth during contingency to safer places, she held the tiny tots upon her elbows and dashed out of her house like a lightning.
Exhausted, she limbered along the sands towards the tumultuous and turbulent sea waves with a steely determination. “I shall vanish into the deep bosom of the sea that will resurrect me into heaven where we shall be reunited with my mother”
Noticing that something was going wrong, Nisha whispered with a wimp in her ears, “Ma no ma, I will collect the free noon meal from the school and feed you both.”
It was a soft and weak blow that shattered the steely determination of Jacqueline into tatters. It was the final collapse of Jacqueline till she recovered from the distant call of Fr. Ignatius “No Jacqueline no.”
Father Ignatius now had a reply to her question. He had made a calculated but determined decision in his mind. He would send her and the children to the Presentation Convent and plead with Mother Superior to accommodate the family in her Home for the Orphans. He would send a monthly allowance of Rs. 2,000 from his salary to the Convent.
As a responsible father, he stood up and called her, “Jacqueline, come with me. Jesus was born for you. Yes, he was born for you. Please follow me”
Holding the half slept Nancy in his embrace, he strolled along the shore towards his parish house. Jacqueline followed him holding Nisha in her hands. The cool soothing breeze whispered happy Christmas in her ears.