Tag: holidays

Winter Solstice Celebrations

The last week of the calendar year is one of my favorite times of the year. The bustle of the year somehow sparkles – even as plans are being drawn up for the new year, and the world keeps spinning. I am one of those nitwits who gets excited by the winter solstice– I actually stand outside and imagine myself on a tilting Earth and wave hello to the setting sun. I know. The children already told me – thank you!

“Hello Yule!” 

“Do you have to sound like a mule, mother?”

Why yes! I am glad you asked. There is a reason we ask for the Yule-tide spirit during Christmas. It is a pagan festival honoring the winter solstice.  Norse roots and origins indicate that this time of year was especially tough for those near the North Pole.

They bought into their homes what they could remember of green – hence the Christmas tree, the yule logs for warmth and for some weird reason, they also brought in goats – maybe to honor their gods – didn’t Thor have a weird fascination with them? Or maybe they just liked goat’s milk and didn’t fancy stepping out into the cold and dark to get some.

Dongzhi (冬至)

That’s the winter solstice in Mandarin. This one, like many symbolisms, linked back to the yin-yang symbol. The darkest days of the year – yin, can now move towards light – yang.

This is reason enough to tuck into some dumplings as celebrations, no?

Dark Mofo

The winter solstice in the Southern hemisphere, is of course, celebrated on June 20th when we are mooning about our side of the earth enjoying long days of sunshine. The Tasmanians, have a festival called the Dark Mofo in which they go for nudist swims as the sun rises – on the coldest day of the year for them.

Human-beings celebrate in many different ways- I can’t seem to be comprehend them all.

In any case, the skies are hugely rewarding this time of the year. The rain-filled clouds – what are they called? Nimbus clouds or the especially royal crown looking strato-nimbus clouds.

The stars on a clear night, or when the clouds are parting seem especially bright too. It is probably why Jesus’s birthday was chosen this close to the Winter Solstice. There is something about watching the cold sparkling stars above, and wondering about how hot and cold the universe really can be. 

The tiny sparkling lights of holiday decor in our neighborhood make night-time strolls delightful. Cold – but delightful. I once scared the bejesus out of some deer in the meadows as I belted a Christmas carol out into the wilderness. Sirius shone particularly bright that night.

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” — Albert Camus

Have AI do something like that and I’ll accept it has achieved human intelligence.

The Magic Faraway Tree

I loved the Inside Out 2 movie – the one in which the newly minted teenager has a new range of emotions available to her, and the old ones either have a tough time acknowledging them or making space for them. In the movie, Nostalgia comes knocking the door too, and the other emotions all tell her that she’s got time. Nostalgia is for when you get older. 

Well, guess I have gotten older. December has become the time for nostalgia.

While younger, the Decembers seemed far and few between. But as I grew older, I noticed a familiar lament in my December posts – “Where did the year go?” Did it really go all that quickly? Every year, I asked the same – only I seem to be asking it more frequently. It is all very confusing. 

A time for nostalgia:

When I was around knee high, it was the time I waited to clamber up the Magic Faraway tree in my imagination. Winter vacations meant lots of winds, and rains thanks to the North East Monsoons in Nilgiris. This was the perfect excuse to imagine going to visit strange worlds everyday over the clouds, and far away. I am really excited to see that the movie about The Magic Faraway Tree is finally coming in Mar 2026. 

The Magic Faraway Tree | Official Teaser Trailer | Claire Foy, Andrew Garfield

I would love to see what they do with a generation of adults who all were enthralled with the stories, and are now trying to convince their children to try it out. But those of us who grew up loving the stories of Moonface, Silky, Saucepan Man and the many lands above the tree can relate to the term ‘life-changing’ being used for this series. I confess that when I gaze up redwood trees and tall giants,  I wonder about the lands above the clouds.

A time for resolutions:

We live in an era of social media. I don’t think there is any escaping that. I don’t know where we go from here. But what we thought of as spheres of influence etc are fluid, and not at all easy to understand. 

So, I thought about grand resolutions like ‘No social media’ etc, but I wanted to do something that wasn’t the equivalent of sticking my head in the sand and hoping the storm would blow away. 

It occurred to me while watching the trailer for The Magic Faraway Tree movie. It is a bold move to try to capture the magic of what a generation of adults felt as children in movie-form. After all, it was our generation that was enthralled with Enid Blyton’s Magic Faraway Tree. I know I have had to convince my children to read the books, because they had Harry Potter growing up. 

How easy is it to judge or critique someone? So instead this year, I am going to try and appreciate all that goes into making bold moves. The adults who grew up loving The Magic Faraway Tree will be the bulk of the movie-goers. Many of these adults would have navigated life for a few decades now – some world weary waiting to see if the world still can bring that touch of magic to them, some cynical to the point of wondering whether there is anything good left in this world, some still hopeful and loving – nurturing the soft wondrous parts of life in them. The movie has to kindle magic in all of them. That is a bold move.

What are you nostalgic about and what are your resolutions for the New Year?

A Sleepy Jolly Christmas

I lounged in bed – it was a Sunday morning, and the approaching holidays made the whole world seem more warm even though the world outside was foggy, rainy, and cold. It was the perfect weather to be doing nothing. It was also the perfect day – no one should be expected to bustle about on Sundays, I said severely to no one. The whole house seemed to have been knackered – there was some movement elsewhere but we were all happy to be left alone.

I read a series of books one after the other, still lounging in bed, completely aware of what a luxury that was. Indian women of our generation are used to this voice: it chastises you every time you don’t get yourself up to toil for the rest of the people around you. I ignored this voice resolutely, and plodded on. Indians pride themselves so unnecessarily on rising early and all that lark, it makes me mad. I liked sleeping in on cold wintry week-ends. Always have, even when the neighboring temple started blaring its margazhi music at an ungodly hour, or the maids swooped in to sweep at times when one cannot expect to be fully conscious.

The past few days had been a lot of doing after all. 

The Christmas tree and the decorations were finally up, and the husband and children had gone overboard with all the twinkling lights and the music during the decorating itself. The son and I sat by the twinkling lights of the christmas tree, and the little lights from the street outside well past midnight the previous night reading. It was a beautiful, silent night. 

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I remember sitting and reading well after the children went to bed. It felt nice – like I was sitting inside a christmas card. The only thing missing was a robin chirping. I smiled to myself thinking of this, and started up a silly song in my head. 

November’s gone nilly nilly, December’s here.

December’s here dilly, dilly, the year will be gone.

Where shall we start willy willy, what shall we do?

The next morning was a school day, and as such, did not afford the luxuries of the previous day. I stepped out for a short stroll before the day started, and the cloudy rainy day meant that the air was fresh, if nippy, the ground moist with the rains, and the whole Earth smelling fragrant and beautiful. 

As I was driving a few minutes later, the sun burst out from behind the clouds, and I scanned the skies feverishly for a rainbow. It must be somewhere – the conditions were just right after all. After a while of looking, when I’d almost given up, the little rainbow showed itself – not one of those fully formed ones, just a small-ish patch of it nestled amidst the clouds. But I had the luxury of seeing it from the bridge, and the bay below seemed to become prettier just by virtue of that. The birds flew past, and the clouds skittered, the world beautiful, and fresh once again.

The sun seemed to send the message that it was a day meant to be bustling about, and I didn’t mind that so much. It isn’t often that things turn out this way, and when it did, I was grateful to take advantage of them.