When you spend a Sunday with family, chocolate and bunnies

What came first, the chicken or the Easter egg? For those who think that Easter means chocolate bunnies and egg hunts, it’s also about the love of sharing and family time

Some of my fondest childhood memories are those of Easter. It used to be summer, and going to school was a drag. We would wait impatiently for the school to be closed for the holiday weekend. Thrilled with the knowledge of not having to do any homework and scot free for the week — even parents would not scold us or put any kind of pressure on us as it was considered a solemn week.

Reminiscing about the day, I remember Easter more than ever because we had a ‘shippy’ uncle (Uncle Henry) who used to work in the mercantile navy who always came home for Easter since year-end holidays were iffy.

Unmarried and without any liabilities or ‘issues,’ Uncle Henry thought the world of us. He had us enthralled with some strange and exotic gifts he would have picked up from ports he visited.

It was a luxury to have such gifts in those days, because they were neither to be found in local stores, nor could middle income families, like ours, afford such lavish gifts. Now, shippies were considered wealthy folks in those days and they used to command great respect in the community. It didn’t matter whether he was an officer or a seaman. Being a ‘shippy’ was good enough. I remember walking down the lane with Uncle Henry and seeing people whispering into each other’s ears. And I used to feel mighty proud being seen around with him. He would also buy a tray of eggs from the grocery, ask mum to boil them and show us how to colour them, just like they did in the West.

Since we were his only ‘family’ on shore, Uncle Henry would lavish us with eye-popping gifts. I still remember a motorised toy racing car that Uncle Henry gave me one Easter. It made me the envy of the neighbourhood, and wearing those branded T-shirts would make kids from the residential complex go green with envy. Neighbouring kids would gatecrash my home just to see the railroad track that my shippy uncle had brought back from Europe. And if that was not enough, Uncle Henry would never forget to bring Easter eggs, bunnies and chocolates of all sorts (imported and Swiss-made). But more important than the gifts would be the stories he would tell us about foreign shores. Intriguing tales from unknown places. The entire family would gather around and listen to him with rapt attention. And the stories would take a break only when dinner was announced.

Easter meal was special. There used to be an assortment of festive curries, roasts, pulao and sweet dishes. No one used to keep a calorie count those days, especially on festive days. Our modest house used to be crammed with relatives and it used to be fun having everyone around.

Going back in time, I now think the spirit of Easter is really not about the celebration and partying, neither was it about the festive spread — it was all about the joy of having uncles, aunts and cousins all gathered at the table to share a special meal. The stories on the dining table were different than Uncle Henry’s. Aunts and uncles would heap praise on the festive dishes while recipes and tips would be exchanged across the table among the women folk.

We kids, however, used to have a different agenda. We would hurry up with our meals so that we could get our hand on the chocolate Easter eggs. However, it was not the Easter egg that held our interest, it was the gift concealed inside the egg that enticed us. One by one, the kids would crack open the egg, extract the toy out of the egg and compare it with the others. The smart cousins would convince the gullible ones to swap their toys for better ones.

Fast forward two-and-a-half decades and it’s Easter Sunday tomorrow. Here, the day will start by putting on our Sunday best (outfit) and attending the Church service. Many among us would have kept a fast or given up certain ‘vices’ for the 40-day Lent period.

It’s a regular working day out. Some of us will have the privilege of taking the day off to celebrate.

Celebrations are mostly held at home with family or friends, and dinner is usually at a hotel or restaurant. Unlike back home, where you would book a ticket for an Easter dance or ball, out here you would reserve a table for a special Easter deal, again with family and friends.

Long after dinner and small talk at the get-together is over, I will go home and pull out some old photo albums and scan through past Easter photos. My eyes still go moist when I see photos of Uncle Henry and the rest of the family in all their finery on Easter Sunday! I revel in the past as my mind rewinds to that day. That feeling itself is enough make my Easter celebration complete.

I now think the spirit of Easter is really not about the celebration and partying, neither was it about the festive spread — it was all about the joy of having uncles, aunts and cousins all gathered at the table to share a special meal.