Dr. Roopali travels in time and space to transport us to another Thanksgiving, six years back. A Special Feature, exclusively for Different Truths. 

It was Thanksgiving and we were in San Diego. A city on the Pacific Coast of California known for its beaches, parks, and warm climate. One of America’s most beautiful cities. Art galleries, artist studios, museums, gardens and the massive Balboa Park, site of the San Diego Zoo. A deep harbour is home to a large active U.S. Navy fleet. The U.S.S. Midway, an aircraft carrier-turned museum. 

Bob and Barbara, our dear friends, were waiting for us at San Diego airport. It was midnight. It was cold in London, where we had stopped for a week. Here it was warm and balmy. Bob had recently turned 80. He swiftly lifted our typical heavy Indian baggage and put it in the dicky of his car. We tottered behind. Embarrassed. 

We were overwhelmed to see both our friends waiting eagerly for us. We were meeting after many years. The years didn’t matter. We four had developed a deep bond of love. Inexplicable yet palpable. The last time we met was in India. 

Amateur Historian 

Each time he visits us, Bob declares, “This is my last visit to India.”  But a year later, he is back for more! I had accompanied him to many interesting places in India. An amateur historian of the British Raj, he is a collector of military medals. It is his passion. A globetrotter, he is like Ulysses. He is unable to stop in one place for long. Home is a place to return to. 

As we hugged each other, our eyes turned moist with unshed tears. We realised we had travelled many thousands of miles to be with our friends on Thanksgiving. Teary eyed porters and janitors and fellow travellers stopped to look. Some missed home and some had come home.  

America appeared to be gearing up for its Holiday Season, starting with Thanksgiving. Pumpkins and scarecrows made of straw welcome the harvest season. Stores full of shoppers and goodies. Families rushing off to meet each other at family dinners. Highways and airports jammed. Jostling with people quite like the crowds at India’s railway stations just before Chhat pooja. That too is Thanksgiving. 

Bountiful Harvest 

We could see Christmas was around the corner. As we drove through the quiet, clean, sparkling city we saw starlight-wrapped trees. Pumpkins rolled about in their ripened orange splendour. Pumpkins and scarecrows, and sheaves of barley waited at every doorstep. Thanksgiving was indicated. It was going to be a bountiful harvest. 

The fourth Thursday of November is Thanksgiving Day in the United States. Thanksgiving Day is a non-religious, non-denominational, family celebration. Families and friends get together for a big meal – Thanksgiving Dinner. This is usually served midafternoon, and typically includes a whole roasted turkey. Traditional side dishes are green beans, mashed potatoes, a sweet potato dish, stuffing or dressing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. 

Thanksgiving Day has been an annual holiday in the United States since 1863. But there are communities that do not consider this day to be a cause for celebration. The First Thanksgiving, in 1621, is often portrayed as a friendly harvest festival where Pilgrims (English settlers) and native Americans came together to eat and give thanks. But historical studies have revealed that this meeting had more to do with political alliances, diplomacy, and a pursuit of peace.

National Thanksgiving Day 

During the latter half of the 17^th century, giving thanks after the harvest became more common. Annual events began sprouting across communities with different celebrations on different dates. In 1789, George Washington, the first president of the United States, proclaimed the first National Thanksgiving Day. Nearly a century later, this became a national holiday, declared by Abraham Lincoln. 

Thanksgiving was two days away. Jet lag and a generous helping of red wine had made me sleepy. I gave Barbara the sobriquet “Devi”. She helped me relax on the softest of couches placing cushions under my aircraft swollen ankles. For me, I had come home. I had so much to be thankful for! 

With me supine on the couch, Barbara began her Thanksgiving dinner preparations. Everything was so elaborate. Seventy-nine-year-old Devi Barbara clambered onto a high stool and began to pull out and hand over gloriously delicate bone china and crystalware. The china was stored in high places behind glass doors. Only to be brought out on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. 

Bob washed the dust off the dishes, and the cooking began! Large reddish potatoes were boiled and mashed. Cans of baked beans opened; cranberry sauce stirred. And thick brown gravy made from the piece de resistance, the roast turkey. A farmers’ fare.  

In Bob and Barbara’s home, the red and gold table placement had to be elegant and celebratory. No half measures. The bone china plates are translucent with sprays of blue cornflowers. The cutlery, sterling silver. Wedding presents to Barbara and Bob. A year ago, they had celebrated their fiftieth year together. A golden ceremony. Dinner preparations were well-planned and practiced. 

Love and Gratitude 

Yet it was not all about the food. It was about feeling. About feeling love and gratitude. For the bringing of us together to be able to break bread together. 

The tall candles in the centre, and the beautiful red runner. The formal dining hall and the far away twinkling lights of La Mesa, California, beautifully framed by the French windows. It was mesmerising and so special. Six years have gone by, and I re-remember today, on Thanksgiving. 

Bob and Barbara’s daughter and grandsons were here for this very special family time. They had driven down from Los Angeles. The family welcomed not just us, but other friends from India, who were also veterans like my spouse. That made Thanksgiving even more special. Before dinner Barbara read out a special prayer. It was handwritten by her mother when Barbara was a child. 

“This Thanksgiving, let those of us who have much and those who have little gather at the welcoming table of the Lord. At this blessed feast, may the rich and poor alike remember that we are called to serve one another and to walk together in God’s gracious world.” We murmured in unison. 

Master of the House 

The turkey had been in the oven for over three hours. The cranberry dotted bread dressing at its side. Bob, wielding a large carving knife, was asked to do the honours. He was the master of the house after all and had to carve the roast turkey. 

There are many stories for why Turkey is the meat of choice on Thanksgiving Day.

William Bradford, a puritan English separatist wrote of how the colonists had hunted wild turkeys during the autumn of 1621. Since turkey is a uniquely North American bird, it gained popularity as the Thanksgiving meal of choice for Americans. 

It is said there were pragmatic reasons for eating turkey rather than a smaller sized fowl during Thanksgiving Dinner. Turkeys are large enough to feed a table full of hungry family members. Besides, turkeys also do not serve an additional farm purpose like laying eggs or producing milk. 

Bob and Barbara’s Thanksgiving dinner transported us to rural America. We travelled to the vast farmlands with hardworking immigrants. In our mind’s eye, we saw women carrying children on their backs as they worked in the cotton fields. We had so much to be thankful for. Gratitude overwhelmed us. No matter where we go, where we live, we must be thankful.  

Havan Yajna 

Before we left for our travels, I had invited a priest to perform a Havan yajna. A learned man, his chanting of the Vedas and the yajna holy fire brought on the divine. 

What is the occasion he asked? “Ishwar ko dhanyavad” – just a thank you to the Almighty, I said. He looked surprised. Usually, prayers like this are done to request a blessing. 

We sat around the holy fire. Its flames consumed the sacred organic ingredients we poured in at the priest’s bidding. He called upon peace to descend on all of nature, her rivers, vegetation, wind, earth. All her creatures great and small, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om Shanti, we chanted. 

The peace we experienced then traveled with us. 

Photos by the author

Dr. Roopali Sircar Gaur

Dr. Roopali Sircar Gaur is a poet, travel writer, and social justice activist. A former professor of English Literature at Delhi University, and a creative writing professor at IGNOU, she is a widely published academic and creative writer. Her book Twice Colonised: Women in African Literature, is a seminal text on women’s socio-political empowerment. In 2020-21, she co-edited two poetry anthologies – In All the Spaces: Diverse Voices in Global Women’s Poetry, and Earth Fire Water Wind.

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