The death of a Christmas story

The Death of a Christmas Story


A sudden laughter broke out in the class-room when Praveen Gomes, asked by his professor to introduce himself, uttered his name for the first time. He was furious but could not express his anguish.
“What a cranky name? Who gave you this name?” many murmured.

“Could you repeat your name?” someone stuttered.
He repeated once more, “My name is Praveen Gomes.”
Once again laughter broke out. He felt affronted. He felt like giving them an apt response. He thought of all his friends, with whose help he could have given them an apposite retort.

Lowering his head, Praveen brooded; his professor Smt. Bidisha came to his rescue. She revealed to the class that Praveen Gomes was a Christian. She elucidated in the class that ‘Gomes’ is a Portuguese surname. She also said, “It is believed that when the Portuguese set their feet in Bengal they converted many locals to Christianity. They gave Portuguese surnames to the new converted Christians. Thus many Catholics in Bangladesh and West Bengal bear surnames like Rozario, Gomes, Palma and so on.”

The explanation worked a miracle. It brought an exceptional sympathy for Praveen from his classmates. Soon he became the centre of all attractions and many began to call him, ‘Gomes.’ During the course of conversation many would ask him questions related to the Christianity. Although he did not like to share much about his religion the situation compelled him to do so.

It was just before Christmas that his class representative asked him to write a short story about Christmas for the upcoming college magazine. He even mentioned to him some of the common practices he heard or read about Christmas. Praveen too mentioned some of his reminiscences. Finally he promised to pen a short story based on Christmas after the semester exams.

Due to exam pressure Praveen had almost forgotten about the short story. It was just before the winter vacation, he got a SMS from his class representative, reminding him about the short story. Praveen replied immediately with his consent.

He thought this would be a very simple task for him since the coming Christmas was scheduled to be celebrated at his ancestral home. The last Christmas he celebrated in the village was when he was just studying in class five. Many years had passed since... Praveen vividly bears in mind all the good things he used to do in his childhood. The best part was taking the blessings from the elders. Because most of them would give him money! He also remembered the carol singing on December 25. The carol singing would go on till January 1. He thought of having the same fun and frolic this time too. As he was ruminating, the plot for his short story was taking shape in his mind.

As per the schedule, Praveen along with his parents reached their village on the eve of Christmas. When entering the village he could feel the external preparation being made. He met many of his relatives after so many years. The drastic change already taken place was very much noticeable. Cell phones were practically in everyone’s pocket as compared to match-box in earlier days. The Crosses, which were placed in many of the roof-tops, had been replaced by the dish-antennas.

Praveen was a bit surprised when his cousins refused to go for midnight mass with him. They said that they had prior engagements. Finally he walked down to the church along with his grandfather. On reaching the church he was disappointed to see the poor turnout for the mass. Few elderly people, mostly women turned up. Just before the communion the priest announced that those who were drunk are forbidden to take communion. The announcement came to him as a gigantic shock. As mass proceeded he was upset to find out that many were busy sending SMS and chatting over the mobile phones.

Immediately after the mass he found many people are rushing back. The usual custom of greeting one another was now history. Touching the other’s feet had changed into handshaking and saying, ‘happy Christmas’. While returning home he asked his grandfather why there were so few people for the mass. He also asked about the youngsters, who were almost invisible in the mass.
“Oh, they must be busy in drinking.” his grandfather said.
“It has become a fashion that on 24th December youngsters raise the toast.”
In the evening of the 25th there were two separate cultural functions in the village. The two youth clubs had separately organized cultural programmes a stone’s throw away from each other. Praveen, after being persuaded by his cousins went for one programme. His cousins said that they were the members of that particular club and claimed that every year they put up the better programme. As he approached to stage, he saw a big banner at the back of the stage was written in Bengali, ‘baradineer milon mela’ (Christmas get-together). He laughed at himself and asked his cousins, “If it is a milan mela, why can’t you have one programme in the village?”

While the programme was going on, a few youth from both the clubs had picked up a quarrel. Soon it turned into turmoil- women and children began to scream and run to save their lives. Praveen was told that the both clubs were backed by the two major political parties. It turned into fighting between two political parties. Finally the police had to be called in. Many were arrested and put behind bars. The joy which was prevailing in the village turned into sorrow within a few minutes. Praveen was so sad to see the police in the village on the Christmas day. He even heard a police constable saying, “Christians celebrate their Christmas with the drinks.”

While returning home Praveen had made up his mind that he would not write any Christmas story for the college magazine. He took out his mobile from his pocket and wrote to his class-representative, “My short story has embraced sudden death on the Christmas day.”