The December Nostalgia

Ever since I started having an understanding of what goes on around me, I have known that the month of December every year is time for the annual family gathering. December 26-27 of each year has always been the time slotted for the Hari Kirtan organized in the memory of my late Great Grandfather. Baba started this on the passing away of his father (on December 27) and following the year after Babuji's passing away, this has been a regular fixture of what I know as my childhood.

When I was a kid and all of my cousins were yet to be impacted by the travails of a busy, nuclear, and urban life, we used to get together, if not at any other time during the year, at least once during the Hari Kirtan. The timing was just right for my uncles and aunts to take their annual leaves and visit their hometown. The normally lean period between Christmas and New Year with easily obtainable leaves from work and the winter vacations in schools was utilized to the hilt.

While the grown-ups alternated between organizing and attending the Hari Kirtan and catching up with the news in each others' lives, the kids used to have the room farthest from the Kirtan venue, all to themselves. This does not imply that we were not the religious type but we were just too young to understand what the "Hare Krishna Hare Krishna" signified. For us, it was just a big distraction from the fun and games we could participate in, now that there were more than a dozen of us together.

From the games of Antaakshari and Passing the Parcel, to impromptu jigs and song renditions, those were the days. We were part of a big joint family despite each of us having our own nuclear set-ups. Baba and Amma used to pride themselves on the way the household filled itself during the five-six days around that period, with each and every room, nook, and corner taken up by someone or the other, voices of merriment coming from everywhere. There were no hassles that anyone had with all of us willing (and even wanting) to sleep on the husk covered floor with blankets being shared in the most chilling of winters. Unlike today when the most hardened of us have gone soft, the communal spirit then used to take care of all discomforts, in an absolute and complete manner.

Once Amma passed away in 2007 and subsequently as Baba started losing interest in many things (including his work as an advocate from which he retired at the age of 85), things started to change. In fact, things were already a little different with most of my generation already out of colleges and making a living in some remote city or another. It was getting more and more difficult to see all of them every year but it was still some consolation since I could see most of them, even if once every alternate year. For me, going to Buxar in December was still a part of routine because Papa, Mummy, and Baba would be there irrespective of whether anyone else came in or not.

Baba's health went from good to bad to worse very rapidly this year, so much so that for more than 3-4 months, he was bedridden and had almost lost the will to live. He is better now and can sit up for stretches of an hour or so, and can even walk from one room to another. However, for the purposes of treatment and in order to be close to doctors and medical facilities, Baba was shifted to Banaras to Bade Papa's house about six months ago. Ever since the ill-health, Baba has lost whatever focus he had and the only thing he seems to continue to be excited about is my marriage, whenever it takes place. To expect him to also worry about the Hari Kirtan would be asking for too much.

Baba always wanted to keep doing this, at least for his life time. Since it was the memory of his father that he used to celebrate, he never wanted to give up. As I was speaking to Mummy last night, I was joking with her as to why she did not ask me to come to Buxar in December this year and was playfully teasing her about how she has forgotten me ever since Priya got married. She told me then that in all likelihood, there is not going to be anyone home this time for the Hari Kirtan which would probably not take place at all.

I always knew that the intensity of the occasion has been going down and with Baba being in Banaras, it would be hardly of any import this year, but I had never brought myself to realize that it was well and truly over. I could hardly reconcile to the fact that the transition from one generation to another had failed...as Mummy told me that there was no one willing to take over the responsibility of organizing such a big scale festival (apart from the Hari Kirtan, there is also a Bhandaara organized where a lot of guests from the village and the town are fed the choicest of delicacies).

I am confident that my generation, all my cousins look at the last week of December fondly and associate it with happy memories. It is all about galvanizing them into taking the onus of running with the tradition for at least some more time...not keeping the next generation away from forming their own experiences, making their own memories of our roots. There is hardly any time for it this year but even if it is the first New Year resolution that I make, I want to try my best to do something about it the next year and if Hari is with me, I am sure that His tales will be sung again in Buxar very soon.