ANGLO-INDIAN

CHRISTMAS STORIES
BY WARREN BROWN
The Christmas Visit by Warren Brown

The whole army, with a strong advance guard of cavalry, guns and infantry,
proceeded to attack the enemy’s position, at the Nuwab’s residence.

In this small camp at Bareilly in 1840, there were a few men led by Colonel Jones of
the 60th called “Jones the Avenger”. The place was still quite full of the enemy, most
were said to be fanatics who were still hiding in the Nuwab’s house, which they
would defend and fight to the last.

It was Christmas Eve, the European, native and Anglo-Indian regiment of soldiers at
the small camp were feeling very cold and hungry, as provisions had not been
supplied from the beginning of the week. It was now Friday and Christmas was the
very next day. The fury of battle had ceased temporarily.

It was dark and cold, when out of the shroud of mist and fog a man’s voice called
out in Hindoostanee, “ Don’t shoot, I am Abdul, I have the provisions”. Then out of
the darkness stepped a middle-aged Indian man and a teenaged Indian boy, with a few
bags of letters and provisions. The Colonel ordered a soldier to take the letters and
provisions and to distribute it among the men. “Why did you bring this young boy
with you to the battlefield ?”, asked the Colonel. Abdul replied, “ Colonel Jones
Sahib, I had met this young fellow on my way here, he is from a neighbouring village.
He insisted that he should come with me to meet the soldiers, so I brought him along.”
The young boy was talking animatedly to the soldiers who had gathered around a fire.
He seemed to keep them all amused. An hour of peace passed in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, the battle resumed, as shots rang out through the night. The enemy was on
the attack again. The soldiers rushed to their positions and manned their guns. Some
ran into the trenches around the camp and fired from their camouflaged positions. The
war resumed with renewed force. Small shiny bullets flew through the air and toppled
grown men, like lifeless puppets, soaked in dark flowing blood.

Robert, a young soldier from the frontlines was among the first to be fatally hit by
bullets in the first hour of the renewed battle. As he started to bleed profusely, the
young boy who had come along with Abdul, went quickly and knelt beside the
wounded soldier Robert and place his hand on the gaping chest wound, he next
whispered something in the soldier’s ear…….

The battle waged on, there were a lot of casualties. Three hours later the war ended,
the enemy’s position was finally captured, the guns were put to rest. The wounded
were attended to on both sides. As the injured were being taken off the field for
medical attention, Colonel Jones asked Rashid an infantryman, “Have you seen Abdul
and the young boy ?”. The soldier said “ No, Colonel Sahib, the two of them must
have left during the battle”.

The next morning was Christmas Day and the men who had survived the battle
greeted one another in joy. News arrived from base camp that the letters and
provisions would be arriving with gifts for the men, as Abdul the delivery man had
died five days ago, on his way to the battlefield.

The young soldier Robert recovered from his wounds, he kept saying that the Christ
child visited him that fateful night and had saved him from certain death. The words
that the young boy had whispered in his ear were, “ Jesus saves, your time has not yet
come to die young man”.

Were the soldiers at Bareilly in 1840 visited by the spirit of a faithful friend and the
young Jesus, on the battlefield where blood flowed, that Christmas Eve?

**************

The Musical Christmas Cards by Warren Brown

In a little colony in eastern India called Lawrenceganj there was no joy and no
happiness, as there was no music and no children. There was a strict law in the town,
which stated that no music could be played in any home, until a child was born in the
township. For the last ten years no child was born in this small settlement.

It was Christmas Eve, the streets were deserted, a sharp cold breeze had driven
everyone off the streets. Even the drunkard’s liquor would not keep him warm, in a
building, shivering beneath a staircase. The town wore a grim and deserted look on
the eve of Christmas. The gray streets and shadowy buildings cast phantoms into the
night.

The silence of the shadowy night was shattered by the harsh screeching of the
wheels of an old car, which came noisily into the town. The bright headlights were
shining and the car stopped near the Doctor’s Clinic at the end of the dark street. The
Doctor had closed his small clinic and gone to bed. The old gentleman lived with his
family directly above the clinic. The car from Mayurnagar must have been on its way
to the city nearby.

A young man stepped out of the car in a great hurry, he went to open the back door
of the car and a young pregnant lady stepped out. It seemed that she was heavily
pregnant and in labor and the young man was frantic. He kept ringing the bell of the
Doctor’s Clinic several times. The elderly Doctor opened his window and seeing the
situation below him, he along with his wife and two teenage daughters rushed to the
aid of the young couple.

It was two minutes past midnight on Christmas Eve when the young man’s wife
Radha gave birth to their first born, a healthy and happy baby boy. Raj was very
proud to be a father. The Doctor, his family, the young couple and their newborn child
went into a sound sleep, after all the excitement of the night.

The Sun rose brightly in the sky the next morning, it was Christmas Day. The town
seemed to be happier as news spread of the birth of the first child after ten years in the
small township.

That Christmas morning every citizen of Lawrenceganj found a beautiful musical

Christmas card playing “Silent night, Holy night”, placed in each of their homes
beside the Christmas trees. Each card was filled with Christmas wishes and New Year
wishes. All the Christmas cards were signed by “The Christmas Angel”.
Lawrenceganj was alive again with music, joy and the sound of a child’s laughter.

**************

Grandma’s Christmas Cookies by Warren Brown

Tracy always looked forward to Christmas, since she was a child. She loved the
Holiday season, the festivity in the air and a Calcutta Christmas with her grandparents
and family, which made the festival so very special.

Every year the pattern of preparations were the same or similar. Christmas was three
weeks away. Tracy’s parents were getting their home ready for the occasion. The
home was brightened with the Christmas tree with the colourful decorations bought
by Tracy’s Dad from the New Market shopping centre.

Two weeks before Christmas, Tracy’s mother and grandmother would cut all the
dried fruits for the Christmas cakes. They would then take the flour and ingredients to
the Bakery in McLeod street, to have the cakes baked.

During the Christmas week from the 22nd to the 24th heaps of egg shells could be
seen scattered on the pavements outside the Bakeries, where lines of people were
gathered to have their Christmas cakes baked.

Grandma started making all her Christmas cookies at least ten days before
Christmas. Tracy loved the smell of the “rosa-cookies” and the “Kul-kuls”. Tracy
enjoyed helping her grandmother make all these tasty Christmas treats for the family
and friends, as Tracy’s two brothers helped their father make the Christmas crib.

Tracy would always carry these special memories and cherish them, even though she
would be in Canada, which was simply miles and miles away from the small city of
Calcutta, where her family still lived.

Children like Tracy never forget the sweet moments spent during Christmas and
New Year celebrations with their families, friends, wherever in the world they may
be. The years come and the years go, families reduce in size, as we lose our close
ones, in our journey through life. Our early Christmas experiences remain in our
hearts and minds forever. Every Christmas which comes along will never be as
special as the cherished memories we have of our festive season with the complete
family, of parents, grandparents, children, grand-children, cousins, friends, Uncles
and Aunts. A special wish goes out to all those who are far away from their parents,
grandparents, brothers and sisters, “Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
with your families and friends.

************

The Christmas Email by Warren Brown

It was Christmas Day when Arlene received the Christmas email message filled with
the good news of……

Arlene C. had left Calcutta 45 years ago for Australia when she was a teenager. It
was now 45 years later, she was a grandmother and she wanted to find her long lost
cousin Dulcie, who had lived in Calcutta all those years ago.

Arlene approached a known agency in Calcutta which promptly started a complete

search for a substantial fee. Her friends had warned her to be cautious when selecting
an agent to track down her cousin.

As part of the complete search, advertisements with photographs, a brief history,

contact address, phone and email were printed in several newspapers and magazines
throughout India. A lot of false information was also received which was investigated.
In addition to this promotion, special posters were designed and distributed among
clubs, associations and church groups. The “cousin-search” was also posted on
several Anglo-Indian and Indian web sites, groups, clubs on the Internet.

One year later, on Christmas Day, Arlene received an email from her cousin Dulcie,
in Canada. She had eventually found her dear cousin who was a grandmother, and a
widow with two married children.

All searches do not necessarily yield fruitful results. However, at least an effort needs
to be made. Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year 2003 and may all
your dreams, hopes and wishes be fulfilled.
Warren Brown is a freelance writer, Life Coach, Copywriter, Administrator, Poet
and Affiliate Marketer.

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Kindly email Warren Brown for permission to publish any of the original stories
written by him. Copyright@Warren Brown. London. UK. 2010