Syed Nissar H GilaniDecember 25th is a day celebrated across the globe, but when I close my eyes, I am transported back to the crisp, white winters of my youth. My memories of Christmas in Kashmir are not just about a date on the calendar; they are about the warmth of family, the spice of our cuisine, and the enduring bonds of friendship.
1976: The Morning of White Silence
In 1976, I was posted in Dooru Shahbad. That morning, the world had vanished beneath a heavy, silent blanket of snow. The nearby mountains, usually sharp and jagged, had been softened into dense, white mounds; their peaks were so heavily cloaked that they seemed to merge with the sky.
I remember the childlike excitement that took hold of me. I jumped into the fresh powder, feeling the bite of the air on my face. The reward for braving the cold was waiting inside: a steaming bowl of homemade Harisa. I remember sharing that meal with my grandmother and the children—a cherished morning of warmth and laughter while the world outside remained frozen.
1986: A Christmas Dinner in Bandipur
A decade later, in 1986, I was serving as an administrator in Bandipore. To honor the spirit of the day and celebrate our shared bonds, I hosted a special Christmas dinner at my official residence for my Christian friend, Mr. Joseph, who was then an Inspector in the 122 Battalion of the CRPF.
We arranged a campfire in the snow-covered lawns, the flames dancing against the white backdrop. As a Christmas song played on the tape recorder, I noticed tears in Joseph’s eyes; he was miles from his family in Kerala and missing them deeply. However, the melancholy was soon softened by the arrival of the dinner—a full Wazwan feast. Watching him enjoy an extra bowl of Yakhni, surrounded by colleagues who had become like a second family, remains one of my most poignant memories.
A Lifelong Bond: From Kashmir to Kerala
Mr. Joseph and I kept our friendship alive long after the snows of 1986 had melted and even after our respective retirements. Despite the distance between the Himalayas and the backwaters of the south, we remained a constant presence in each other’s lives. We would talk about everything—current issues, our children’s progress, and our shared family memories. We frequently extended invitations to one another, dreaming of visits to Kerala and return trips to Kashmir.
Sadly, Mr. Joseph passed away two years ago at his house in Thiruvalla, Kerala. Though I could not be there in person, I attended his funeral via video conferencing, watching from afar as my dear friend was laid to rest. It was a somber modern end to a friendship born in an era of handwritten letters and silent snowfalls.
Christmas by Default
In a strange twist of fate, my life after retirement has taken me far from the frozen peaks of Kashmir. By sheer coincidence, I often find myself outside of my home state or even out of the country during the month of December. Whether visiting family or traveling, I consistently find myself immersed in Christmas celebrations by default.
In these moments, as I watch the world celebrate with lights and carols in distant lands, my mind always wanders back to that campfire in Bandipore. I am reminded that the spirit of the season belongs to everyone who values friendship and hospitality.
A Legacy of Harmony
While the local Christian community in Kashmir remains small, the spirit of the day has always been one of communal warmth. Looking back, those were great days—nights defined by the crackle of a fire, the scent of Yakhni, and the quiet dignity of a mountain winter.
Rest in peace, my friend.
The writer is former Assistant Commissioner of Revenue Department, can be reached at (nisargilani57748@gmail.com
