Do you remember that major task around the end of each year in the past — the business of sending annual cards to people we'd spent time with over the years?

In our household, the great greeting card ritual was father's undertaking so, naturally, we children were roped in and each given a job. (In those days, schools and colleges had their winter break at the same time so the house was overflowing with children at a loose end and constructive ‘helping out' was one way to keep us out of trouble — and away from the larder and from each other's throats.)

Father was meticulous about making a list and ticking names off as our cards were sent — and he also cross-ticked the list as incoming cards arrived. It seemed a cold-blooded way to get such a goodwill-oriented enterprise done — but it worked — and our suggestions to include our friends and favourite teachers on this list were shot down with a forbidding look.

Apart from the all-important list, there were other assignments for each of us: One's calligraphy was deemed appropriate for salutations and sign-offs inside the cards, another's handwriting was only good enough to address the envelopes, and the third's stubby fingers were allowed to tuck in flaps and stick on postage stamps. In time, our roles changed, with budding artists encouraged to hand paint cards — in which case work began at least two months in advance in order to get the 150 plus cards done by our December-end deadline, when, finally, we would troop off to the post office to have the cards stamped before our eyes.

That done, our attention turned to the postman's visits. There was much excitement as each card was received. We'd try and guess the sender's name from the stamp and the handwriting and would wait eagerly for father to open the envelopes — for that was his prerogative. A quick read, a grunt, maybe a smile, a cross tick on the list and then we were allowed to string the cards above the mantelpiece or in streamers across the room. We kids took great pleasure in placing them so that the dull ones (with regimental crests or simple stencilled drawings) were interspersed with ‘Christmassy' pictures or reproductions of famous paintings.

Largest collection

When D-Day plus Ten on father's calendar (January 10) was crossed and receiving late New Year cards was unacceptable ‘form', we were allowed to take down our ‘streamers' and settle on who kept which cards. This activity was largely unsupervised by the adults so it was generally initial victory for the largest and strongest. But that was not the end of it. Other tactics were employed and soon the loudest wails prevailed. That's how the youngest often wound up with the largest collection of old greeting cards that were then used for all kinds of craft work through the year. Whenever we ran out of ideas, that treasure trove of winter scenes, Santas and cribs was there to inspire us for a wall mural or a cardboard model or anything else we set out to create.

I can't pinpoint when we stopped this year-end ‘tradition' of keeping in touch with friends and relatives but now the long drawn out process of sending printed greetings cards has been replaced by SMS, group e-mail, musical e-card or other instant e-greetings.

Now we send about 10 paper cards each year and we receive fewer than that. Certainly not enough for even a single string across our little sitting room — but luckily, there's that handy box of old cards from which we can still decorate our homes and make believe that we're back in a different time.

 

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.