Sunday, December 13, 2009

Poinsettias

[This is a work of fiction. All characters are imaginary, though any resemblence to people living or dead is purely intended.]
There should be snow on the ground, Christmas in the air. The trees should be real trees shedding their pesky needles on the carpet, not artificial ones in ugly plastic stands. Plum cakes are not plum cakes unless you lovingly pour brandy into them for a month. Turkey is meant to be stuffed with fragrant rice and baked in an oven, not chopped up and thrown into a generic gravy.
I catch sight of the poinsettias on my window sill. They are more beautiful than the ones I knew growing up in England. Christmas comes alive again.
Christmas in India.

Photograph of Poinsettias


I did this piece for the annual Advent Calendar at the Burrow.

2 comments:

youngbloodblog said...

aaah Naasha - I'll light a candle & put it outside on my douglas fir for you. I don't cut trees any more but like to have a few lights dangling around so the needles DON't drop, but the tree sparkles anyway. Sorry you miss your growing up in GB, but it' ajn't the same any more - ask Tara!!!

btw happy solstice ! x M

Rayna M. Iyer said...

Marian, I love the idea of my candle on a Douglas fir in Scotland. To be honest, if I could, I am pretty sure I would refuse to cut a tree down just to satisfy my whim of having a 'real tree' at home during Christmas. How selfish can that get.

And I guess it is never the same any more.


(BTW- I didn't grow up in England- this is the story of a friend of mine, who gets homesick only during this one time of the year.

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