Note: This column of mine was published a couple of year back in a national daily. I am posting it here as it is without any abridging to show that how i look at other religions’ festivals. Its the web masters’ choice to approve it for publish or reject it.

Our Holy Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) was coming back from an Eid congregation when on the way he (PBUH) came across a small child who, while standing all alone on the roadside, sobbed and sniveled loudly. The Prophet (PBUH) went to him and asked the reason for wailing. The child narrated his dreadful account while shedding tears. He said he was an orphan and, as it was Eid day, he did not have parents who could buy him new clothes to wear or toys to play. The Prophet (PBUH) took him along to his place and got him new clothes and toys to play.

Though this is a small emotional anecdote, it certainly reflects what our religion preaches about commemorating the religious days bestowed upon us by the Almighty. Eid is one day that is meant to enjoy and shed the gloominess one passes through during the year. The day is meant to rejoice but we have discovered some other ways to celebrate this day. We laugh, giggle, amuse, throw parties and enjoy life in all possible ways for the whole 364 days, but on this one day which is meant for fun and making merry, we pull long faces and look for corners to sulk and sob while remembering those who have passed away...

I don’t say that we should forget our elders and dear ones who have left for their final abodes but my question is, what justification do we have to forget them for the rest of the year and out of nowhere suddenly start missing them on that one festive day which God has reserved for us Muslims to enjoy?

I always appreciate my Christian brethren for their celebration spirit, who go by the book and celebrate Christmas in true religious spirit with so much fun and fervour that even the people from other religions pine for enjoying at least the enjoyable part of it. I would never forget those golden days of my childhood when mother would take us to her friend Auntie Benjamin, who would invite the children to have Christmas Eve fun.

The gorgeously decorated Christmas tree, which has its origin as far back as 1510 when the first evergreen tree in a Christmas celebration was used in Riga, Latvia, according to many sources, remained the centre of attraction for us. Today, many of us, who are not Christians, seem to think that the Christmas tree and Santa Claus’ visit are a part of Christian worship. I think this is not true.

In fact, it started as a part of pagan activities in Latvia and northern Europe where people were living their life as they had been for hundreds of years. Coming back to Aunt Benjamin’s place where everybody would try to join the chorus:

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, O
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way.

Her younger brother Uncle Victor would dress up as Santa Claus and would throw around small gift packs and chocolates while taking them out from his fully tucked sack. I still remember that his daughter Laura would ask for special treatment, which she would not get.

Then I don’t forget Uncle Kanwal Feroze, a renowned poet and the editor of an Urdu fortnightly regularly published from Lahore. Uncle would always invite us to his place when a long time back we lived in Lahore. I would never forget the care and compassion of adorable Auntie, who is unfortunately no more with us though their daughter Shamaila is there to keep the relations alive, but she is good at escaping from the scene unannounced.

Presently, she is in London doing some higher studies and I am sure she would do as well as she did in Muslim Shari’at law some years back when, despite being a Christian student, she topped in Punjab. Shamaila would always call me brother Santa and the breaking news is that she has recently pasted my disguised picture on her website, considering it appropriate according to the occasion.

This well-loved figure Santa, who is known as ‘Baba Chaghaloo’ in Afghanistan, ‘Babadimri’ in Albania, ‘Santa Claus’ in the US, ‘Father Christmas’ in the UK, would always be my favourite one. His deep belly-laugh ‘Ho ho ho’ and his nine reindeer, Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Donner, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid and Blitzen would always enthrall me.

Many children write letters to Santa, usually to tell him what gifts they wish to receive. Many of these letters get sent to the small town of North Pole , Alaska , near Fairbanks . “HOH OHO” is a postal code used by Canada Post for routing letters sent in Canada to Santa Claus at the North Pole. Interestingly, the alphanumeric sequence falls within a grouping associated with the Montreal , Quebec area.

I am thankful to Aunt Lamuel, mother of my dear friend Leo Joseph, who would not forget me on Christmas Eve when she makes hunters’ beef. I know this Christmas would be very difficult for the Josephs as they have recently lost their family head, Uncle Joseph.

I consider it the right opportunity to extend my heartfelt greetings on the occasion to Leo, Bhabi Sabrina, kids Sheem, Tino, Adeel, Sarah, Shian and the rest of the family. My greetings are also meant for a forgotten Auntie, Muni David Chohan, and her family in Lahore . My warm wishes for Uncle Feroze, Shamaila and others. For a long time I have not heard of Uncle Victor’s family but still, wherever they are, may God keep them happy and may they have a blissful Christmas. A joyous Christmas to Uncle Victor, Aunt Rosy, Uncle Munir, Auntie Rashida, Naseera, Laura and Lilly.

I would not forget to say Merry Christmas to Rena Boudreau, Carlene, Janet and all my Christian friends here, there and everywhere in the world except for Dubya, Tony Blair and all those who have their hands dipped in Muslim blood in Iraq , Afghanistan and elsewhere in the world. Merry Christmas, my dear ones!
21st December 2006