Wherever I go, Christmas in Sri Lanka dwells in my heart
I spent close to 33 years of my life in Sri Lanka, and now living overseas, I feel Christmas in various other countries is not even near the cheer and warmth I experienced back home.
Growing up, I’ve lived in Kandy and Kurunegala. My brother and I travelled from Kurunegala to Kandy to go to school. If there is anything we mastered, that would have been packing and unpacking; we became experts in loading our whole lives into bags to leave for boarding school.
In a way, that’s how my journey unfolded. Aiya left Sri Lanka in 2006 for higher studies, and in 2020, I packed my life into two bags and left Sri Lanka too.
Snapshot from the past: Happy memories of Christmas at home (1992)
Now, five years later, I am living in my third country. Yet every December, no matter where I am, my heart longs for the feeling of Christmas in Sri Lanka.
As December approaches, the air starts to cool. Amma used to say it’s the “Christmas wind.” Christmas officially started when she started to play her Christmas playlist of Boney M or beautiful Sri Lankan Christmas songs.
A hybrid is what I called myself, both Catholic and Buddhist. I am fortunate enough to have experienced both religious cultures and their celebrations.
December was the most exciting month for us. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation. We would leave Kandy in the first week of December for holidays, and that bus ride home was the happiest journey I ever had. I always fell asleep halfway through, Appachchi waking me up when we arrived.
I also remember now how long Amma’s shopping list used to be at Christmas, never selfish, each item for somebody else. It was never about one person, but all the people coming to join us in celebration. We didn’t have supermarkets those days. The nearest town was Narammala, a little town with endless paddy fields around. Our grocery shop was R.M.S. Trading, a Muslim store that had been in existence since the 1930s. We were loyal customers, and the boy at the store knew Amma’s Christmas cake ingredients by heart, the exact amounts. Each year, they would gift us a beautiful calendar, a small gesture but something so dear to us.
I remember decorating the house with whatever I would find around us – dry leaves, branches, bits of nature. Each year was either silver or gold. I’d get into creative mode, and I can almost smell the fresh paint now. We had such a beautiful collection of indoor plants that I would place in every corner of the house. The last touch was always the Christmas tree and the manger.
Right in front of our house, we had two massive old pine trees. Every year someone had to climb and cut down the branches for a Christmas tree. We all would stand below and look up at Amma directing which branches needed to be brought down. The smell of those pine trees was something else.
Getting those huge branches into the living room and making a big Christmas tree out of them was one of the happiest moments of the season.
The next thing was decorating the tree. We never saw snow, but our imaginations made up for it. Amma would take balls from Styrofoam, and we would carefully place them on the spikes of pine leaves. Now, retrospectively, all these activities taught me the virtue of patience. It took hours, but it was worth it. After decorating the tree, we’d start building the manger house from bamboo with a roof made of hay.
Our house used to get crowded by the 23rd of December. I can still vividly remember the sight of my cousins walking up our long driveway, and how we would run out to meet them, barefoot, full of excitement. We had that carefree childhood, the kind where nothing mattered more than the freedom to run and play, nothing bigger than happiness itself. Some came by bus, others in their cars, and some of them would have to travel far just to reach our house. But, once through the gate of my father’s house, they were family.
In their company, we found our greatest joy. Whatever they gave us, we accepted with gratitude, knowing it was given with love. The lunches, dinners, endless laughs, and smell of Christmas – I miss those so much.
Amma never got tired of cooking, and I never did get tired of making those endless cups of tea. Laughter, chatter, music, and the jingling of cups filled the air, and the sound carried over well beyond our home. The jokes, dances, cricket games that went on well past afternoon tea. Then, the music would start again, and we’d sing and dance some more. When I reflect on it, we were all just simpler people back then, even the grown-ups. Life was not so complicated, and neither were we.
But as time went on, the world changed, and we drifted apart. For many years, we found ourselves working every Christmas day, too busy with life. We finally packed up our lives and moved thousands of miles away. I miss the feeling of going to bed, knowing the house was full of joy, surrounded by the warmth of loved ones.
We now have most of what we wanted, but still, the question goes back to my mind: are we missing something?
These Christmas memories of Sri Lanka – family time, tradition, love – stay with me wherever I am. The joy, the togetherness, is something one can never replace. Wherever I go, though dwelling in different places, the spirit of Christmas in Sri Lanka dwells in my heart. Merry Christmas, Sri Lanka! I miss you dearly.
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