Our correspondent on the highs and lows of doing up a giant Christmas treeI have never been a fan of the Christmas tree. I don’t like the idea of cutting an entire tree, getting it to your living room, doing it up and then throwing it out after a few days. And don’t even talk to me about spreading festive cheer. All that competitive joyousness during photo-ops in malls around Christmas trees is positively tacky. But Murphy being the ruling force of my life, when the idea of a Christmas test drive did the rounds of the office, the task fell on me. What’s the big deal about decorating a Christmas tree, you ask. All you need is a bunch of streamers, some shiny balls, candy canes and a whole of glitter to be heaped on one dark green conifer—or a plastic green one. The answer to that question came to a puny me while I stood at the foot of a nine feet high tree in a south Delhi mall, as I stood tip-toe to spot the head of that green giant. Big deal, indeed.“Start from the bottom and work your way up. The tree should be done in about three hours,” said one of the decorators. “How do I get to the top?” I asked. No answer, my man had already moved on. There were three more giants to be dressed up, after all. So there I stood with seven cardboard boxes of shiny ornaments and other decorations (Christmas balls, candy canes, stars) and waited for inspiration. My task was: “to make sure the trinkets were placed symmetrically and aesthetically, but at the same time looked traditional and warm”.Brainwave: Why don’t I first sort out the decorations in the boxes, count the number of canes, balls, stars and gift boxes and calculate how many would go on each layer of the tree? Brilliant, except that by the time I was finished with my calculation, the other decorators were already two to three feet up their respective trees. They had started by putting lights on the tree first, then the garlands and then the ornaments. I decided to follow. The lights were easy but the garlands were not. You could pin it up with purpose and hope at point A but by the time you reach point B, the garland would trail off from point A. And so they drooped, one garland after the other, till I stuck them up with fat blobs of tape. No, they didn’t look good but did they stay put. Then came the ornaments—thermacole bells, glass balls, stars. After every layer that was covered, I stepped back to see if the pattern had been symmetrical. It looked like an untidy mess from afar and had to be done again and again till I finally got it right. Two and a half hours later, the first five feet of the tree were done. Now comes the easy part, I thought. At least, this blasted thing gets narrower as you go up. I was wrong. To decorate the next four feet, I needed a ladder. Now you haul yourself up the steps, your fists clutching those shiny balls, put them up the tree, climb down and there you go, it’s time to haul yourself up again. Sisyphus couldn’t be more at home. After another hour of dangling from the ladder, I looked down. All the good people of my city spending to beat the recession and looking back at me with an I-wish-I-could-do-that-look. Well, boss, give me a hand and I’ll show you another bubble that went bust. After four and a half hours, my boxes were empty except for a few pink streamers and a bright red star. All that was left to do was perch the star on top. By now, nervous that mine was the drabbest tree around, I dragged up some streamers and wrapped them around the tree. A little girl watching from a distance made a face and firmly shook her head. Not a good idea at all. Ah well, I sighed and took them off. Back on the floor, I looked at the four trees. The other decorators had finished their work about an hour ago and their trees looked fancy and bright. Mine looked “traditional and warm” but was not too hot on aesthetics, I had to admit. But five minutes later, a bunch of college students trooped in, stood next to my tree and posed for a picture. So there. Did I tell you I like Christmas trees after all?
