Christmas Lights: My Personal Medicine for Seasonal Depression by ISHIKA SRIVASTAVA ‘Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer’ - except picture this sung in the high pitched voice of Alvin from Alvin and the Chipmunks. Growing up in India, a large amount of my exposure to Christmas traditions came from where most self respecting children get it from - Hallmark Christmas movies. My favourite part of these movies was the hopelessly illogical plot which always seemed to work out for the main character in the end. Seven year old me learnt a lot from the media - from mistletoes mentioned in a Justin Bieber song to the Rockefeller Christmas tree from Home Alone. However, these artefacts of American soft power failed to capture one essential element: Christmas lights. Where I grew up, Christmas traditions looked slightly different. My neighbourhood of Bandra in Mumbai has the highest concentration of churches in the world ( even compared to the Vatican). This meant that Christmas lights lit up every nook and cranny. What made every twinkling light all the more special was they were the product of individual creativity and effort, rather than a mass project undertaken by the city. Walks around Mumbai during
From our Black Out Poetry Workshop
December are quite different from those in London. The temperature is still warm enough to walk around in shorts, but the occasionally chilly sea breeze makes hot chocolate a welcomed drink. In my own family, we kept the lights up from Diwali in October all the way down to December. In recent years, my mom makes sure that every time I come home from university I’ll have lights waiting on me, just so that I can feel special. While it has meant that strangers have knocked on our door wondering if there is a wedding upcoming because of all the festive lights, it’s a misconception I’ll happily accept. The lights are some of my favourite parts of this time of the year, giving a sense that there is always something to celebrate - despite the cold, despite the wind, despite the darkness. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like this. On 28 November, a crowd gathered outside the Centre Building to watch as the Christmas tree lights were switched on. The momentary joy felt by the cold students suffering under the weight of deadlines was tangible. And in that moment, at least for a second, we all stood still and smiled.