As a child, I was always in awe of the Christmas star that we used to put outside our house to mark the festival. I still clearly remember the whole “star process,” as my father called it. My mother was the one who made the announcement that it was time for the star. As soon as my father got ready to leave to buy one, I would tag along. At times, he did not get my unusual enthusiasm but still he took me.
There at the shop, I would see all those beautiful stars for sale. From a child’s perspective and more importantly height, it all looked so grand. I would almost instantly choose one — usually the most colourful. My father would choose a different one and pay for it. It was only after years that he acknowledged my aesthetic sense. So there I was, coming back home with mixed feelings. I felt a little disappointed at my choice not being the final one as well as a little elated that we were carrying our Christmas star.
Once my father was ready, he would call me to assist him in putting up the star. As he stood on a stool to adjust the orientation and light, I stood below on the ground to gaze up at him and run any errands necessary. I would switch on and off the light as directed till everything was perfect. Mind you, perfection is a big issue in our family. Thus, it requires a lot of patience too.
Finally, when it was all done, we would stand stare at our star and smile. My mother would also join us.
Through the years, my enthusiasm for the whole event has seen a dip. A lot of times, by the time I came to think of it, it was already put up. Yet, it brings a smile to my face even today.