As the spread of consumer capitalism brings plastic trees and jolly reindeer dashing through fake snow to Christmas all around the world, I remember how the celebrations from my childhood in Jharkhand looked markedly different.
The red, green and gold tinsel decorations that are now found abundantly in the markets were nowhere to be found. Absent too were the Santa hats, Advent wreaths and mistletoe.
Instead, multicoloured paper streamers were hung across living rooms, stretching from the ceiling fan to the side walls. Often the glue would be homemade, a solution of mushy boiled rice.
The central decoration would not be a Christmas tree but a crib with figurines representing Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the shepherds and the three wise men who are believed to have attended at his birth. These statuettes would be bought from the church office.
Since agriculture and animal husbandry are a mainstay of the local economy of my hometown of Gumla, about 100 km from the capital city of Ranchi, fresh hay would be readily available to build the cribs.
Christianity arrived in Jharkhand in the mid-nineteenth century with German missionaries. Today there are four main Christian sects in Jharkhand – Roman Catholics, Gossner Evangelical Lutherans, North West Gossner Evangelical Lutherans and the Church of North India. According to the 2011 census, Christians form approximately 5% of the state’s population.
While many critics claim that Christianity destroyed the region’s native Adivasi culture, the religion also adapted to the local culture. While my family gave up speaking our native Kurukh tongue at home a few generations ago, the very first Kurukh song I ever learnt was in church – a slow, high pitched carol sung to the deep booms of the mandar, a traditional Adivasi drum.
Billi barcha, billi barcha merekhanti puna billi barcha
A light has arrived at my home and village.
In recent times, electronic keyboards have begun to accompany the mandar, even though the drum remains the primary instrument. Across the state, there are plenty of carols sung in Adivasi languages such as Mundari and Santali, and also in Sadri, which is used as a lingua franca by several groups in the region.
In some churches with a near dominant population of one community, service is also held in an Adivasi language instead of Hindi or Sadri.
The clergy too have acknowledged the Adivasi identity of the congregation in the celebrations. In Christmas 2021, I was struck by the fact that the altar on the grounds of St Patrick’s Cathedral in Gumla was flanked by giant cutouts of a man and woman dressed in traditional Adivasi gear – red and white scarves, loincloths and sarees.
Celebrations in the state are special even today.
After midnight mass on Christmas Eve or the morning service, food is, of course, imperative to stave off the biting cold. Popular treats include arsa, a traditional sweet ball made out of a rice flour coating stuffed with jaggery or sugar. Also savoured are khajurs – fried bits of curly dough, similar to the kalkals of Mumbai and Goa.
Plum cakes are common now – though earlier, before ovens became widespread, Christmas cakes would be simpler but equally delicious affairs of maida, eggs and sugar steamed in pressure cookers.
On Christmas day and even more so later for New Year’s, it is common for families and friends to set out on picnics by riversides or hills. Lunch is cooked on makeshift stoves set up with wood fire, out in the open. My favourite is chilka roti, a thin roti made out of fermented rice and pulses eaten with pork or even duck curry.
Later, as with most Adivasi celebrations, there is singing and dancing in circular groups, and the youth usually dance late into the night. With traditions like this, who really needs turkey or pudding?
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