The Christmas of 2003

            When I was about six years old, I moved to Australia, where I lived for about three years. Since my dad couldn’t leave India for so long (owing to his work), it was just my mom, brother and I, along with my grandparents. I still remember my first Christmas there. We went to the store and found a Christmas tree that we all liked, so we decided to buy it. We brought it home that evening and put it up decorated it together. There was so much laughter and joy in our home that day. I can still remember the feeling.

            Thirteen years down the line – it’s December, 2016, and my parents and I are putting up that same tree in our home in Vellore. As we hang the fairy lights and sparkling ornaments onto its dark green branches, my mother begins to tell us about what the Christmas of 2003 was like for her.

            She’d just moved to a new country and was supporting two children and two parents. We were renting a house, we had just joined school and there were a lot of things to buy and pay for. In the middle of all that, in came the Christmas season. Now there’s this tradition in Australia, where everything – literally everything – in most of the shops goes on a massive sale the day after Christmas. So all of my mom’s friends advised her to buy us a tree on that day. Considering the situation, it only seems logical.

            But here’s the thing about my mom – when it comes down to it, she doesn’t work on logic. She knew how happy and excited we would be to have a tree up in the house for Christmas. So she decided to forget about the money she could have saved by buying it later and decided to go ahead and buy it before Christmas.

            There are very few things I remember vividly about being six-years-old, but that day when we put up our first Christmas tree in Australia is something that is so crystal-clear in my mind. But I’d never thought of what it was like for my mother. All I knew was how happy I felt.

            When I listened to it from my mom’s perspective, it struck a chord in me. I realised how wise my mother had been in putting our joy first, despite what everybody said. In doing so, she gave me something I can never lose – a beautiful childhood. And that is something that no money in the world could ever buy.

            So here’s the thing about my mother. When it comes down to it, she doesn’t work on logic. She works on love.