This year, I’m struggling to process the dissociation between my inner world and the one I inhabit in South Tyrol. There is a deep schism between the grief I carry with me daily because of the horrific annihilation of Palestinians in Gaza by the Israeli state and the various manifestations of the Yuletide spirit that has already inundated the streets and markets where I live.

On Sunday morning, I took my toddler with me to church about half an hour before mass could begin. I’d learned that the town band would be playing. I thought that even if I got a chance to hear them practise, that would be something. Why don’t I just take my toddler with me to church for the service, you ask? Because the services are simply not child-friendly. The people who attend mass are usually older people and the instant they hear a toddler running around, I feel the heat of eyes glaring behind to determine its source. It’s so different from India where no one bats an eyelid at a kid running around the aisle. When you consider the diminishing congregation in churches across Europe and contrast that against the hyper-vocal Christmas spirit… Christmas markets, Christmas decorations, Christmas music, Christmas crafting, Christmas trees, all centred around a predominantly white Baby Jesus, you start to understand how disconnected the festival is from its reason…