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A house, sitting on the slopes of a verdant hill, has a different view of things even on things heavenly , --a star in the western sky.                                            A star with silver sheen, smiles down at the children playing in the engulfing darkness in front of a hut , thatched with  braided coconut leaves. Chilly wind blows, children shudder, their tattered clothes flutter, they are hungry still , looking like withered pepper vines, facing blazing sun, all day long waiting for their parents to turn up after day long toil in the rice paddy yonder. The jackals howl, chicken in the coop, respond in fear. From afar, strains of music waft, from Syrian Orthodox Church in tea estates atop the high rages of Kerala mountains. "Why they are so late?" the youngest, a frail anemic girl asks- "They may have gone to market to bring us delicacies for Christmas" the eldest girl, a cheerful but wimpy one quips, hiding her own fears... Tomorrow is the day of Christmas, (if they don't get their wages..) Night descends from the hills in thick rolls through the slopes, flooding their hut and them all in inky darkness, without any hope, the boy and the girls, not ready to  loose hope look up to the lone silver star, even when darkness eats them up. The star gives them it's happiest of smiles at the saddest of times, it ever did... a drop of tear from the eye of the hapless star falls on a child's tattered dress. O
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Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 8:17 AM UTC
A Christmas can also be sad like this
A house, sitting on the slopes of a verdant hill, has a different view of things even on things heavenly , --a star in the western sky.                                            A star with silver sheen, smiles down at the children playing in the engulfing darkness in front of a hut , thatched with  braided coconut leaves. Chilly wind blows, children shudder, their tattered clothes flutter, they are hungry still , looking like withered pepper vines, facing blazing sun, all day long waiting for their parents to turn up after day long toil in the rice paddy yonder. The jackals howl, chicken in the coop, respond in fear. From afar, strains of music waft, from Syrian Orthodox Church in tea estates atop the high rages of Kerala mountains. "Why they are so late?" the youngest, a frail anemic girl asks- "They may have gone to market to bring us delicacies for Christmas" the eldest girl, a cheerful but wimpy one quips, hiding her own fears... Tomorrow is the day of Christmas, (if they don't get their wages..) Night descends from the hills in thick rolls through the slopes, flooding their hut and them all in inky darkness, without any hope, the boy and the girls, not ready to  loose hope look up to the lone silver star, even when darkness eats them up. The star gives them it's happiest of smiles at the saddest of times, it ever did... a drop of tear from the eye of the hapless star falls on a child's tattered dress. O
In the South Indian state of Kerala, there is a considerable number of ancient Christian population ; indeed an interesting mix of churches including, Eastern Orthodox(Syrian, Chaldean, Jacobite,  Mar Thoma, and other smaller churches),Catholic( Roman, Latin rites) and Anglican.Traditionally it is believed that St.Thomas visited Kerala in A.D. 52 on the trail of Jewish merchants doing spice trade based in Malabar and Cochin region of Kerala.Interestingly Kerala is  probably the only place in the world now,  where Aramaic (semitic language from 300 BC to 600 A.D) supposed to be spoken by Jesus Christ, is still in use in Orthodox Church services.There are still few Orthodox priests left in Kerala,  who can converse and write poetry in this biblical language.
k-balachandran
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Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 8:17 AM UTC
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