Christmas Star

It was a very pretty star. White colour, made of paper, with many little Santas in red laughing all over.

It was a very very pretty star.

We weren’t exactly one of those families who put up a star during Christmas every year. Not because we didn’t believe in Christmas- we are Mallus. We believe in ALL festivals, religion no bar. We just need a reason to celebrate and eat and drink. We just didn’t have a star. The one that was bought even before I was born had lived its full life and had to be thrown away. So I didn’t really have any memories of Acha taking out the star during Christmas and tying it to the light-bulb. But I loved stars. Absolutely loved them. I used to go around the whole apartment admiring my neighbours’ stars. Aren’t they just lovely?

So one Christmas, when I was in college, I pestered Acha to get me one. Off we went one evening, father and daughter, star-shopping. I dragged him along to numerous stores until I found the perfect one. Normally, he would’ve taken whichever star he found first in the first shop and bought it. Not exactly the patient shopper, my dad. But for once, he seemed as excited I was, to buy a star.



Shiny ones, huge ones, small ones, ones with intricate designs- we found loads of varieties. But I didn’t like any of them. I wanted one that, when I looked at it twinkling in my verandah in the evening, would make me smile and appreciate the spirit of Christmas. Not one that would hurt my eye with its glossiness and give me the feeling of being in a very tacky discotheque. Nope, I didn’t want a disco ball.

After a couple of hours of rigorous searching, many rounds of screening and elimination, we finally found one. It was very simple, the simplest of the lot. There was nothing outstanding about it. But the jolly little santas on the white background brought a smile to my lips instantly.

I was like an excited bunny all the way back home. I couldn’t wait to hang it up. I didn’t even let dad change clothes or have a sip of water once we got home. It HAD to be up immediately. And so he pulled out a few wires, found a bulb, and hung it up. I spent the entire evening outside in the corridor, admiring my star. I knocked on my neighbours’ doors, dragged them outside and showed it to them proudly. I just loved the way it lit up our corridor. Before going to bed at night, I went and peeped at it again, said a ‘Goodnight’ to it, and went to bed a happy, excited person.

For the next couple of days, I couldn’t wait for it to be dark outside, so that I could switch on the star-light. I didn’t let Amma or Acha switch it off till late into the night.

One morning, I was standing outside in the corridor, talking to Ritu Didi and Amma, when I felt something amiss. I glanced up at my star- and all I found was a bulb hanging there.

Somebody had stolen my Christmas star.

I don’t know which bastard could do such a cheap thing. A Christmas star, of all things?? And that too such a simple one? Till date, it’s a mystery. Where could my star have gone? No, it could not have got torn and flown away in the wind, because there were no remains of paper or the string on the bulb wire. It had been neatly cut away.

I haven’t bought a Christmas star after that. I was heart-broken. I know it’s over-dramatic to be so dejected over such a simple thing, but to me, that star was special.

Dad bought another star a couple of years back. It’s big and shiny and twinkly and lights up our verandah.

But it’s not as pretty as my Christmas star.

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I didn’t want to write a negative Christmas story, but I wanted to share this with you guys.

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What are your favourite Christmas memories?




P.S: I’m going home on 24th morning. HOME! Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!! :) :) :)

Images courtesy Google and The Raw Hen (also goes by the name of Rohan)