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What Men?

A trademark line of every Goan Catholic (makapav) that you and I know.

Christopher is a Goan Catholic that I know of.

“What Men, you’re not doing anything for Christmas?”

“No”

“Why Men?”

“I just don’t do much. I visit my granny for lunch and that’s it.”

“Fucker men you are”.

Christopher can make 14 grammatical errors in the same statement. But that statement somehow hit me. I’m not a very “celebratory” person by nature. I don’t do parties like typical catholics or people my age. I don’t dance, drink or smoke and hence put a serious doubt to the fact if I’m really catholic. I’m more “understated” as some oversmart MBAs would conclude. But Christopher’s “Fucker men you are” somehow hit me, it redefined my Christmas plans.

25th December – 1:30 am

I stepped out of the church. People genuinely wished each other. Men kissed their wives, Boys their girls, Brothers and sisters embraced, the children smiled and laughed playing with their balloons. People were “together”. People were happy. It was Christmas and I was happy.

“You took your coffee and cake?” said mom, tugging onto my suit.

“Mama, lets go to The Heritage (A four star hotel opposite the church)”

“Why? Madowhat?”

“ I want to take you some place nice on Christmas night. We’l have coffee and eat something”

“No. Why do you want spend all that money?”

“I have the money Mama. Chal lets go. I’l call everybody else”.

It took me 30 minutes, convincing the rest of my mom’s 3 sisters and 2 brothers and their families that we should go there.

What followed in the quiet coffee shop of The Heritage at 2:15 am on Christmas night was loud relentless conversation of what was going on in who’s life. My mom caught up with most of her siblings. They caught up with her and dad. The sons and daughters caught up with their cousins. We ate. We debated. Discussed the terrorist attacks. Asked Diandra (my 20 yr old cousin) what she ate to maintain her Size Zero figure. Ordered more coffee and hot chocolate. It was 4:30 am. Christmas had arrived and “this” was a good idea, I thought as I dug out the credit card from my wallet. Mastercard could make an ad out of this. Dissolving yourself in family : Priceless.

25th December – 11:30 am

I woke up, dressed and headed to Nana’s (my granny) house. It’s a traditional thing we do on important days. Most of her 9 children were already there when I arrived, busy in mindless conversation.

I kissed Nana, wished her, gave her, her gift. Opened the cake I picked up, so we could get this thing started. Nana cut it with my 8 year old cousin Kunal, who was dressed in a miniature Santa outfit with all my aunties and cousin sisters bellowing “Awwwwww” for 15 seconds as they cut the cake and fed each other.

There was a lot of chicken, beer, cake, idlis, whiskey, wafers, children and loud voices. I guess celebration and chaos go together. Traditional gifts like watches, designer pens, mobiles, shirts, ipods, games were given to the men and children. With women, in my family, there is only one “gift” that usually gets them up, “dinner set”. I don’t understand the logic behind their collection. Every woman has atleast 4 dinner sets and the joy of getting a new one somehow rivals the previous one. Other popular gifts include sarees, electric iron, crockery, lipstick and other things that I have no interest in.

After lunch it was time for Nana’s custard and more irrelevant conversation, where the “slightly drunk” men discussed the current financial crisis each giving their own expert opinions on the causes and remedies. It was funny hearing them especially since not one of them has any remote expertise in global credit fallouts or equity fluctuations. But it’s our job to ramble, to talk, to pass time, to disagree with something we agreed upon 10 minutes ago. My fat aunty was describing how she has become an “L” from an “XL”. Everyone clapped. Tea was ready.

I connected the Karaoke machine. We started singing. We like to sing. We all have great taste in music, it’s one of the few advantages of being a catholic. The “XL to L” size woman, Greta sang “Elton John’s - Sacrifice” considering it’s slow and hence easier to score when singing on a Karaoke machine. Greta scored 95. She is a very competitive woman. My Uncle Edward is equally cunning, so he sang “The Beatles’s – Yesterday”, which is as slow as they go. He scored a 96 which was stunning considering he was visibly drunk. He started dancing, making gestures at Greta after the score. Greta got irritated, picked up the mike and started singing “Chicago’s – If you leave me now”. It’s a song she knew by heart and used it only when it was a “do or die” situation. I was in splits just looking at how hard she was concentrating at the screen. She scored a 72. My family laughed so hard that Jesus would have heard it. Diandra then sang “Shakira’s – Underneath your clothes”, the title of the 20 year old’s song raising more than a few eyebrows amongst the elders. Diandra assured them the song had a “deep” meaning. Kunal sang “Nat King Cole’s – Love” to raptures of applauses and “Awwwws”. Walter sang “The Police’s – Every Breath you take”. I sang “The Beatle’s – A Hard Day’s night” considering how short and well paced it is. I scored a 96. Edward and I danced in front of Greta. It was 9:00 pm.

We planned a family picnic to a water park on 28th December considering how much fun Christmas was. What followed was another amazing day. Another day I spent with my family, reminding me of their significance, their warmth, their jokes and what they mean to me. Those two days shattered my basic idea of Christmas being just another holiday to “do” something with friends or listen to music. Being with family somehow seemed “cool”, it seemed nice. It was the most fun I’ve had in the entire year. Work, Money and the busy Life had made me forget that sometimes happiness can be found just by looking “close”. Love resides “closeby”. You have to find it yourself.

As I slid from that 70 degree drop water slides, my entire year flashed before me. The completion of my MBA, the great job at The Times, a heartbreak, a heart mend, money, a large screen TV and a home theatre system, responsibility, maturity, gifts for the family, my first deal worth 30 lakhs, the sexy secretary of this client I frequent without work, success, failure with the recession, the terrorist attacks that tore my city, the romantic trip atop the boat with her, the incredible sex that followed, the conversations, Christmas, family, the picnic at this water park. Just them, the slide submerged me in the depths of the pool and it felt as if I had sunk in a year and was all set to welcome the next. I hope you do too. I hope and pray for me and you that the next year be a happy, fulfilling and peaceful one. After all it’s a short life and I’d rather it were pleasant for you, me and everyone else.

We drove back. I played a cassette. “The Beatle’s – Hey Jude” played and immediately everyone began singing. John Lennon would have been proud of our collective talent. We smiled as we tapped our feet singing. The worries in the world were forgotten, if only for a little while. It’s these little whiles that I will long for, the coming year.

Life is good.