Age 25

I stumbled across this funny Norwegian series, Home For Christmas. The main female protagonist is in her 30s, constantly pestered by her parents to get a boyfriend for the big Christmas Eve dinner. I’ve always liked Christmas, but in Europe I truly understood why films about this topic were such a hit. It’s all about magic. The whole town transforms into a galaxy of lights. Stores, restaurants and streets are filled with cinnamon fragrance and decorations. Christmas markets have its own charm with adorable shops and lip-smacking food stalls. Bone chilling temperatures never felt better, when sipping Glühwein with your friends at the market. Christmas also stands for coming together as a family to spend a memorable time. The series especially focused on one scene. A big dining table with delectable dishes laid out with the whole family sitting around, eagerly waiting for the much anticipated partner. I also excitedly waited for such a big meeting with my then boyfriend’s family. Unfortunately, I never got to experience such a heartwarming and laughter filled dinner.

Christmas can become extremely isolating and lonely when you stay so far away from home. While missing my family terribly, the solitariness slowly started to overpower. My new friends also left to spend intimate hours with their loved ones. Since I had a partner, I assumed this time would be different. I was completely mistaken, again alone on Christmas. My boyfriend’s parents didn’t want to invite me because I was too brown and too Indian. They detested me even before giving me a chance. When I learned how they see me, I felt humiliated and defeated at the same time, but when I asked him if his parents would ever truly accept me, he said yes without any hesitation. I still had hope. He promised to convince them for Christmas, but they were adamant on their answer. So I spent that holy night in my dorm room, slurping soupy ramen noodles and bingeing Emily in Paris on Netflix. I slowly started despising Santa’s day of joy.

Next winter came, and I didn’t want to be cynical. Christmas market made me gleeful, but with underlying tension and sorrow. I still carried mild optimism that this Christmas episode wouldn’t be called Netflix, ramen and I. I kept pestering him about his parents’ decision, but he was good at dodging. Feeling restless, I asked him one last time, but his face was enough of an answer. I immediately ended our conversation, looked for an alternative and booked my flight. The anxiety of fitting everything into one bag, the urgency of reaching the airport on time and the hustle bustle would drown the staggering loneliness. While waiting for the flight, my view of Christmas gradually became abhorrent. My thrill for secret Santa and Glühwein will never change, but now it’s mixed with a twinge of resentment and rage. I craved the full Christmas experience, but to this day it never happened to me.