CAROL SINGING IN ALLAHABAD

 

Have you ever been Carol singing? Have Carol singers ever visited your home?

If you were a resident of Allahabad in the 70’s, a teenager back then, could sing or at least hum along, clap in time, had a certain amount of rhythm, played the guitar, the bongos, or no instrument at all, then I am sure, if you were part of a church group, you probably went Carol singing. Even if you did none of the above – you were welcome to join in!

Carols for those who may not be fully aware , are songs of praise and joy!

For the uninitiated, Carol singing, or ‘carolling’ is the singing of happy Christmas songs, by groups of people going from door to door (at Christmas) with the object of raising money for their church or a charitable cause .

 

Singing of carols goes way back in time and has always been an enjoyable experience for so many people, all over the world.

 

A few weeks or so before Christmas, the various parish priests in Allahabad would usually remind their youth groups to get the ball moving. Not that anyone had forgotten! It was foremost in many minds. There were innumerable groups of Carol singers, and I was part of a few, over the years.

 

The announcement would be followed by evenings and weekends of practice, merrymaking, amusement, and frolicking. We would reach the church premises around six in the evening and the practices would continue in some room or hall till about nine. It was also an excuse for us teens to get out of the house, for girls and boys to meet, to have fun, share stories and jokes, exchange story books, pass ‘love notes’, let your hair down and do a little singing. Remember, before you judge- there were no phones back then into which you could whisper sweet nothings and chat, if you get what I mean. I played the guitar so Christmas and carol singing is something I really looked forward to.

Scooters and motorcycles were a rarity in those days, so we would cycle to and from church, often with a girl or boy friend on the carrier of handlebar! Tell me about it!

 

Allahabad is bitterly cold and bone chilling in winter, and the temperature usually plumets to five and six degrees by mid-December, but it feels much colder.

 

We customarily went carol singing for five evenings between the 18^th and 24^th of December. The evenings were scheduled to end by nine but often dragged on till well past midnight- not that anyone was complaining. For us it was a case of – the later, the more preferred by all.

If you were not dropped home when the night ended, you had to make your way back alone and let me tell you – that was scary, and I did have a few hair - raising and rather petrifying experiences!

 

Thermal wear, if you had it, cardigans, mufflers, coats, gloves, & balaclavas were a necessity – we had to really cover up to the maximum to beat the cold. Some of the girls wore cute red Santa caps and on a few occasions, we had a boy dress as Santa Claus with his customary bell which he would ring with gay abandon !

I remember us being given a small school bus to use, and about thirty of us would pile in- the more the merrier. There were so seat belts, and the seats were rather hard and uncomfortable in case you would like to know. It was just the driver and then us at the back- singing, hollering, screaming, banging the side of the bus and in general making quite a nuisance of ourselves & almost causing a bit of a riot! The poor driver tried to get us to behave- in vain. His complaints fell on deaf ears.

We would then visit colonies, stand-alone houses, bungalows, and the like. Some people knew we would be coming and prepared in advance , while for others we landed up unannounced.

At every stop we would jump out, as silently as possible – the intention being to surprise the people in their residences.

Often, we were welcomed inside enthusiastically by Christians and non-Christian alike. By mid-December, all homes were done up with beautiful Christmas trees, coloured lights, wreaths, bunches of holly, and all the different Christmas ornaments and knick- knacks, and the atmosphere was festive and high- spirited. The little crib was always the center of attraction. Some families were so very creative and original, and their cribs were breathtakingly beautiful. The house often smelt of paint!

Once inside, we rendered about six carols, were offered snacks like cake, kul- kuls, various types of fudge, sandwiches, sweets, rose cookies, juice and of course given  some money which we collected in a sealed, tin box.  When we were offered ginger wine, steaming hot tea, or coffee – wow – that was amazing. Most of the items were made at home and the generosity of the families we visited was heartwarming.

 

We spent more time at some homes than the others and often there was a little dancing as well to add to the enjoyment.

Surprisingly, we were all, always hungry and I sense the cold and the singing had something to do with it, hence any quantity of snacks we were offered, were always polished off. Many generous people would tell us to ‘Take what was left over’ and eat it in the bus. Kind souls indeed.

 

There were some families who would not open the door to let us in – usually older people whose house we would reach too late – they had probably already gone to bed. However, their dogs would be barking loud enough to wake the dead, so it left me wondering. At times we would see lights being furtively switched off.

On a few rare occasions, we were shouted at to ‘go away and not disturb’. On such occasions we would retort by screaming, making barking and mewing sounds, howling, and piling up flowerpots near their front door! We felt they deserved it for their rudeness! I now feel bad we were so naughty!

 

All in all, we had a marvelous time, did our bit for the church, and really felt Christmassy!

 

I must not forget to add that many a love affair blossomed during this time, and quite a few ‘carol singers’ ended up marrying each other! There were match makers among us too for your information!

 

Those were light- hearted, vibrant, playful times filled with mirth, mischief and merriment and they will always be a part of my life.

The Packet

 HE PACKET

It was an evening in late July

When he saw him sitting under the gnarled banyan tree,

Wizened and apparently gasping-

A maniacal look on his face

Clutching an earthy brown, cloth bag

Under his sweaty arms.

His rasping cough made him breathe heavily.

“Who are you”? asked the young boy-

Just all of eight- marbles jingling in his pockets.

‘Are you waiting for someone’?

What’s in your bag’?

There were no answers forthcoming,

But the silence was broken with a ‘pechak’

As the old stranger spat his betel juice, into the dust around them.

He smiled- a red toothy smile and whispered-

In almost a threatening growl

‘My boy – don’t ask me those questions- ever again’.

He bowed his head, which sunk deeper

Into the depths, of his seemingly, hollow torso

And gasped aloud.

There was a pregnant pause-

And the young lad was terrified.

In the distance the ‘kik- kik- kik’ of the ‘Koyal’ could be heard.

Summer was coming to an end.

Lines of soft, grey Nimbus clouds

hung low and spelt rain- later that night.

An eerie stillness prevailed.

The old stranger looked crestfallen,

-utterly broken.

But wait -there was something else-

Were those tears, amidst the wrinkles?

He fumbled with his belongings –

A bell and some beads strung together.

He took out a tattered paper bag,

And laid it on the ground.

His scaly hands trembled and beads of perspiration-

Appeared unexpectedly- trickling down,

His seemingly, scrawny neck

Losing themselves in his grimy garments.

They both stared at the bag in complete silence.

The ‘kik- kik- kik could be heard, in the distance.

The echoing voice of his mother calling him home-

‘ Balaaaaaa’- roused them from the reverie.

The stranger hurriedly picked himself up-

Dusted his garments and shuffled away-

Pulling a ragged shawl

Tightly over his long, matted hair.

He didn’t look back.

The young lad sat mesmerized-

Staring at the abandoned packet for a few,

Agonizingly long moments.

This couldn’t be his birthday present in advance?

His father and twin brother

Had left for the market early that morning.

He willed them back, as night

Was fast approaching.

He had always been petrified of the dark

The tension was palpable and

He could contain himself no longer.

‘Balaaaaa ’- shouted the mother once again.

It was now or never.

Stretching his right hand forward-

He reached gingerly, for the creased packet-

Pulling it towards himself, hesitatingly.

Taking a deep breath – he opened it warily.

And took one furtive look

Screaming in abject terror

Bala bolted towards his little thatched hut-

At the edge of the large paddy field.

He collapsed into his mother’s arms-

Sobbing inconsolably

Pointing vaguely to nowhere

Muttering unintelligible sounds-

hysterical and incoherent.

The family rushed out-

Just in time to see an old stranger-

Board the last bus out of the village that night.

The lad led them to the banyan tree-

Still sobbing and gesticulating towards the crumpled bag.

The pale crescent moon illuminated the sky-

And bathed them all in a silvery glow.

Then the skies opened and the tempestuous rain

Came down in torrents.

Packet in their hands- they walked home

Their sobs mingling with the thunder

21Mervin Joel, Deven Shah and 19 others

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The Packet

 HE PACKET

It was an evening in late July

When he saw him sitting under the gnarled banyan tree,

Wizened and apparently gasping-

A maniacal look on his face

Clutching an earthy brown, cloth bag

Under his sweaty arms.

His rasping cough made him breathe heavily.

“Who are you”? asked the young boy-

Just all of eight- marbles jingling in his pockets.

‘Are you waiting for someone’?

What’s in your bag’?

There were no answers forthcoming,

But the silence was broken with a ‘pechak’

As the old stranger spat his betel juice, into the dust around them.

He smiled- a red toothy smile and whispered-

In almost a threatening growl

‘My boy – don’t ask me those questions- ever again’.

He bowed his head, which sunk deeper

Into the depths, of his seemingly, hollow torso

And gasped aloud.

There was a pregnant pause-

And the young lad was terrified.

In the distance the ‘kik- kik- kik’ of the ‘Koyal’ could be heard.

Summer was coming to an end.

Lines of soft, grey Nimbus clouds

hung low and spelt rain- later that night.

An eerie stillness prevailed.

The old stranger looked crestfallen,

-utterly broken.

But wait -there was something else-

Were those tears, amidst the wrinkles?

He fumbled with his belongings –

A bell and some beads strung together.

He took out a tattered paper bag,

And laid it on the ground.

His scaly hands trembled and beads of perspiration-

Appeared unexpectedly- trickling down,

His seemingly, scrawny neck

Losing themselves in his grimy garments.

They both stared at the bag in complete silence.

The ‘kik- kik- kik could be heard, in the distance.

The echoing voice of his mother calling him home-

‘ Balaaaaaa’- roused them from the reverie.

The stranger hurriedly picked himself up-

Dusted his garments and shuffled away-

Pulling a ragged shawl

Tightly over his long, matted hair.

He didn’t look back.

The young lad sat mesmerized-

Staring at the abandoned packet for a few,

Agonizingly long moments.

This couldn’t be his birthday present in advance?

His father and twin brother

Had left for the market early that morning.

He willed them back, as night

Was fast approaching.

He had always been petrified of the dark

The tension was palpable and

He could contain himself no longer.

‘Balaaaaa ’- shouted the mother once again.

It was now or never.

Stretching his right hand forward-

He reached gingerly, for the creased packet-

Pulling it towards himself, hesitatingly.

Taking a deep breath – he opened it warily.

And took one furtive look

Screaming in abject terror

Bala bolted towards his little thatched hut-

At the edge of the large paddy field.

He collapsed into his mother’s arms-

Sobbing inconsolably

Pointing vaguely to nowhere

Muttering unintelligible sounds-

hysterical and incoherent.

The family rushed out-

Just in time to see an old stranger-

Board the last bus out of the village that night.

The lad led them to the banyan tree-

Still sobbing and gesticulating towards the crumpled bag.

The pale crescent moon illuminated the sky-

And bathed them all in a silvery glow.

Then the skies opened and the tempestuous rain

Came down in torrents.

Packet in their hands- they walked home

Their sobs mingling with the thunder

21Mervin Joel, Deven Shah and 19 others

10 comments

Like

Comment

Share

Vaccinations by 31st December is a joke

 The whole of India to be vaccinated by 31st December 2021? Seriously ?

Happy new year all and I pray that this happens, but who has done the Math and convinced Our Government to make this bold announcement ?

As of now we just do not have the capacity and that is a fact.

Are we counting on the new vaccines that are just being produced and have not yet been tested or approved ?

Are we planning to import vaccines ?

Have prices and suppliers been fixed ?

Have the logistics been worked out ?

Will this be for all those 18 years old and above ?

Will children also be vaccinated as Covid is now spreading to them too?

Will the centre and states work together and put politics aside for once ?

I really wish this happens for the welfare of our countrymen who have had more that their fair share of suffering but I have my doubts .

Just hope I am wrong this time .

Vaccinations by 31st December is a joke

 The whole of India to be vaccinated by 31st December 2021? Seriously ?

Happy new year all and I pray that this happens, but who has done the Math and convinced Our Government to make this bold announcement ?

As of now we just do not have the capacity and that is a fact.

Are we counting on the new vaccines that are just being produced and have not yet been tested or approved ?

Are we planning to import vaccines ?

Have prices and suppliers been fixed ?

Have the logistics been worked out ?

Will this be for all those 18 years old and above ?

Will children also be vaccinated as Covid is now spreading to them too?

Will the centre and states work together and put politics aside for once ?

I really wish this happens for the welfare of our countrymen who have had more that their fair share of suffering but I have my doubts .

Just hope I am wrong this time .

Do you have a pet

 

This is serious.

 If you want to be happy, share your life with a pet.

 It can be anything – a pair of love birds, a parrot, a dog, a cat, hens and cock birds or ducks and geese. Don’t go for anything too exotic as they cost a tidy sum and require more care than the normal pet. Some advice- Don’t go for an elephant, if not you will have to empty the fridge to put it in. Not a giraffe either, because each time the giraffe must be put to sleep, you will have to take the elephant out of the fridge to put the giraffe in. Both will also eat you out of house and home. Corny joke I know – but jokes were never my forte. I am just not the among the ‘funny types. Anyway, back to my tale.

As far back as I can remember, we always had a pet at home – at least, for a large part of my growing years. (I am still growing breath ways). Another stupid joke but I can’t help it – part of growing older!

There was ‘Lovey’, the Cocker spaniel. She was loveable, to say the least, had a lovely silky coat and enjoyed biscuits. I recollect attempting to teach her to beg, but despite my, and her best efforts, it was an exercise in futility, as she was too fat and her hind legs said no!

 Then we were talked into keeping love birds,which we bought from an old gentleman in Allahabad- Mr Eates . There was a lovely cage made, water bowl, food tray, ‘et al’ and the two little ‘budgerigars’ arrived. We were told that they would multiply and soon we would need another cage or two. Well, I presume they were both males, as there were no eggs laid, and hence no miraculous babies. Despite the old seller replacing them on and off, it was an exercise in futility. We seemed fated to have just two birds for life. Well, the plus side of this was that I spent many an hour looking at them, feeding them and at times poking them with a knitting needle and making them fly. I found them a trifle lazy. They were not exactly ‘love birds’ if you get what I mean and were fairly well behaved. We finally gave them away with the cage too.

We then got some hens and a cock bird. They were truly productive and every morning I went around searching for the eggs that were laid in the hedge in the compound. For some obscure reason they refused to lay eggs in their coop, and so the treasure hunt had me, as the sole participant every morning. Five or six fresh eggs, made for quite an inexpensive, yet tasty breakfast every day. Then, they suddenly stopped laying eggs. Some sort of strike I guess, or a plan, as one fine summer day they all stopped laying together. I don’t quite know what happened to them, but I am sure that we did not have chicken on the menu anywhere around that time.

I must add that the rooster was rather wild and whenever he saw either another rooster or a defenceless kid, he charged – feather all bristling as he tried to peck the enemy! We had named him Jonny and he seemed to answer to his name and would calm down when shouted at. The neighbours had a similar ‘fighter’ and my friend, Phillip and I often tried to get them to fight each other, much to the amusement of the other kids. And yes, there was blood too.  

Some years later we had ducks. Ducks were easy to keep- plenty of water and almost all kitchen leftovers for meals, and they were fat, happy and healthy. They were lazy and did nothing but waddle around all day and eat. They seemed to overeat because they did cause quite a mess.  I guess they were all males and hence no eggs were forthcoming.

My best friend who is now my brother-in-law, kept a few dozen pigeons and he was crazy about them. We spent many an afternoon staring up at the sky watching them fly. There used to be competitions as to whose pigeons stayed up the longest, and there were prizes and stuff for the winners.  He was just a teen at that time, but quite a well known and respected pigeon breeder.

Many families had dogs in the Railway colony, and dog fights were common. There is one sad incident I can never forget. The neighbours would go to Goa for a month or so during their summer holidays every year. One year they went off with their Tin trunks , bedding rolls and water bottles and secured their house with padlocks, telling us as usual, to keep an eye. However, sadly, their dog got locked in. It must have been quite a silly dog as it never barked, nor cried, nor scratched, or else it did so, and no one heard it. A month later when they returned, they were shocked and dismayed to find a skeleton and no more. The stench was unbearable to say the least, and it took a few days to dissipate. I am sure they were heartbroken and the whole family was devastated, as it was a loving pet that had been with them for years.

There was another neighbour who had an extremely ferocious dog as well. It was always chained up with a rather thick chain. On the few occasions it managed to get lose, a few children and adults were sure to be bitten. It was named Tiger. Somehow any striped dog back then was named Tiger, and they sure lived up to their name.

Many of you would know that here in Dubai we have a cat- ‘ Chanel’. She is a mix between a Turkish Angora and a Persian.  She is a beauty and I have mentioned her in stories before as we all adore her. She keeps us amused, is playful, intelligent and a natural stress buster for the family. Like most cats, she is a bit miserly with her love, does not like to be carried, and if you call her, she often walks in the opposite direction. With a personality of her own, she often has us dancing to her tune. My wife is certain that she says ‘mummy’ but that is a different story. Ever second month she gets well groomed, and a few photos are taken of her ‘looking pretty’. In reality, my phone is full of photographs and videos of Chanel sleeping, playing, walking, jumping, looking at the pigeons and in dozens of cute poses.  Believe it or not, but I do not need an alarm, as promptly at Four- thirty in the morning she jumps up and pushes her nose on to my face and ears demanding her snack, ‘Dreamies’. She does the same twelve hours later! With the granddaughter visiting frequently, I have observed that she is a trifle jealous and peers at the little one from various places, but most females are jealous by nature, so she is no exception!

My elder daughter and her husband have adopted a cat too – from our parking lot. It is an Arabian Maou. He was injured, weak and lame when they adopted him.  A year later, he  is ‘Lord and master ‘of their home. ‘Munchie’ goes in and out when he pleases, brings another cat home to play, purrs rather loudly, has extra-long legs and a thin body, and lives a comfortable life, while his sister continues to struggle as a stray. Such is life!

My brother-in-law and his wife have a parrot. He has always had birds as pets and is quite an expert. The parrot however seems to have taken over their household. Every time we visit, we are shown how the parrot walks, talks, goes in and out of the cage, flies, swoops, plays with a ball, eats etc. I am not a big fan of parrots in general, and their parrot in particular, as it seems determined to attack me, bite my shoes, peck at my watch and in general cause a nuisance near me. They however have the parrot nibbling their ear, kissing them, sitting on their head- literally and figuratively speaking. I know verbatim how it bathes, which son it prefers over the other, when it wakes, what it does on waking, and how it does not like to go back to its cage. The parrot ‘bathing story’.   I have invited them to bring ‘Nicky’ their pet to meet ‘Chanel’ but till date they have refused!

My sister-in-law has a son, who does not actually like pets and stuff but lives by fads and whims like most teens. Recently he woke one afternoon – and decided that it was about time the family had a pet.  When he wants something, he harasses till he gets it, and so to cut a long story short, the mother took him to a pet shop, and they returned with a rather costly African parrot.  No advice taken, no questions asked, no experience whatsoever, but the parrot was brought home in a fancy, gilded cage. For the first two or three days we were inundated with calls about how clever the parrot was, how it was starting to talk, how it whistled and how beautiful it was. There were photos and videos too and relatives and friends all over the world welcomed him into the family.  Then there were two days of silence. I thought the parrot had died. However, I was wrong. They were struggling to look after the poor creature, which had stopped eating or something to that effect, so they sold it back for half the price! I was sure their tryst with pets was over and done with – I was so wrong.

They then went out and bought a pup. Duke is a handsome looking Golden retriever. We were invited home to meet him.  I admit he is smart to look at and has been with them a month already, so I guess he is there to stay. Now a days, the husband wakes at four am to take him for a walk. Then he gets back to bed. The wife then takes him for a run at five. Both have begun to look rather worn out & exhausted though they deny it’s anything to do with Duke. The maid then does ‘dog duty’ for the rest of the day and she has silently begun to rebel- the maid, not the dog. There are stores about how clever Duke is, how he has learnt to beg for biscuits, is particular about his bedding etc. The son has gone off to college in the UK and so the ownership of the pet has changed hands, as expected.

 Meanwhile the ninety-year-old great-grand- mother lives there too, and she is determined that Duke will not enter her room upstairs, lest he drop her down. Valid point no doubt. However, the poor puppy is not allowed into the bedrooms and nor in the hall either. I do not think he will celebrate his first birthday with the family. Wish I am wrong on this one as he is a cute chap.  

I have always advocated about families keeping a pet. Yes, there is an expenditure involved  and a fair amount of commitment required  too,  but it’s the same with your kids, isn’t it?

The advantage of pets is – you don’t have to send them to school or college nor worry about getting them married, and believe you me, that is something to think about.

And to those who do take my advice and keep a pet, PLEASE listen to this – You don’t kick your kids out of the house and on to the street, if and when you get fed up of them.

It’s just not done.