The Golden Glow of a Ponda Christmas: A Journey Back in Time
In the heart of Goa, where the red earth of Ponda meets the lush greenery of the 1960s, Christmas wasn't just a day on a calendar—it was a season that transformed the world. Looking back through the eyes of a six-year-old, the memories of Ponda Tiska fifty years ago feel like a faded, beautiful postcard, smelling of pine needles and fresh neureos.
The Magic of the Tiska Canopy
Back then, the stretch from Tiska to the Civil Court was a cathedral of nature. Massive, ancient trees arched over the road, creating a cool, shaded tunnel. For a child, these trees weren't just landmarks; they were the source of Christmas itself.
My cousins would venture out to these giants, bringing back branches to build the Nativity Crib (the Presepio) in our hall. It wasn't just a small manger; it was an entire landscape. My cousins were engineers of imagination, crafting:
- Handmade houses with tiny glowing bulbs.
- Miniature waterfalls powered by hidden pipes.
- The Pine Tree: A real tree decorated with care, with a mounting pile of gifts tucked beneath its boughs.
The Longest Wait
For a young boy, the days leading up to the 25th felt like an eternity. To pass the time and quiet the "is it Christmas yet?" jitters, I would sit for hours coloring Christmas books. Meanwhile, the house was a hive of activity. The "Consuada" (traditional sweets) preparation began a month early. The scent of frying kulkuls and the rich aroma of dodol filled the air, acting as a delicious countdown to the big day.
Midnight Bells and New Shoes
Christmas in Ponda centered around the Mount Carmel Chapel. The atmosphere was electric. There is a specific kind of joy only a child knows: the feeling of wearing a crisp, new outfit stitched by your father and the "click-clack" of brand-new shoes on the chapel floor.
When the bells began to peal across the quiet Ponda night, it signaled the start of the Midnight Mass. The music—led by my cousins who were maestros with the violin—wasn't just sound; it was a feeling that stayed with me for a lifetime.
"The preparations—the cards, the stamps, the carols—were a language of love we sent out to the world, from Ponda to relatives far across the seas."
Tradition: Then and Now
As the years rolled by, the geography of my life shifted from the hills of Ponda to the streets of Panaji. Yet, the spirit of that Ponda childhood remained.
Today, my home is a beautiful blend of Goan culture. My wife and children, though Hindu, build the crib with the same fervor I had as a boy. We celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi and Diwali with the same heart we give to Christmas.
I still remember the "Santa years"—sneaking into my children's rooms to leave gifts by their beds, keeping the magic alive just a little longer. They eventually figured out who the "Santa" in the house was, but the sparkle in their eyes never truly left.
A Legacy of Memories
The trees on the Tiska road may be gone, sacrificed to the widening of roads, but the roots of those memories run deep. At 65, with 64 Christmases under my belt, I realize that the best gift wasn't under the pine tree—it was the warmth of a family that celebrated together, across faiths and across generations.
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