Chapter Text
Winter winds blew across the streets of 1920s England, taking with them the songs of carolers and the tinkling of sleigh bells. The joy and laughter of the night before had settled in to rest as the holiday came to a close. Yesterday was the day to be up bright and early to the excitement of presents under the tree. Today, most would say, was a day to sleep in.
Aman Pandey was not most. He was awake, looking out of the window from a higher level flat. It didn't seem he needed to sleep, he wasn't even sure he could sleep, and, given that the last time he tried he woke up as a ghost, he didn't find it worth trying again. Today, however, he wasn't sure how well he would have slept either way. Something had been gnawing at his belly since the night before, when the Disaster Gang had come to James and Sybil's room to round out the evening. Unlike Kit and Sunil's flat, the Cordova-O'Connell Suite was heavily decorated for the holidays, though those decorations were a tad...unconventional. There was a suspicious amount of bones amongst the décor, to say the least. The tree was trimmed with popcorn, though, which everyone who could had picked at, so Aman guessed that made up for it. It wasn't the reason he found the unease, anyway. That feeling was much less of disgust, and more some kind of longing he wasn't sure how to place. He continued to stare out of the window, not hearing the footsteps from behind him.
"Aman?" came Sunil, groggily, before walking towards the window. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing." Aman mumbled back.
Sunil was holding a mug of the hot chocolate that Kit had so graciously made that morning. Kit had been up for a while going about in the kitchen, but, as they often did, he and Aman had kept a quiet space from each other, themselves to their thoughts. Sunil was probably the first to utter a word in the flat that morning, the others in various states of rest all about the rooms. The owners of the suite had taken themselves to the Master bedroom, Kit and Sunil had taken the guest room, and Mason was right there, passed out on the couch. He didn't stir much as Sunil pushed his feet aside to sit down next to him.
"Even if you're looking at nothing, it seems like you're thinking about something. In fact, especially if you're looking at nothing, that would be the case." Sunil leaned into the arm of the couch. "Have you caught the post-Christmas blues?" Aman sighed, not quite turning from the window.
"I dunno. Sort of? It's complicated."
"Need it be so? I'm pretty sure I can handle a lot by now." Sunil nodded, assuredly. "As you would say in your time: Lay it on me."
Aman rolled his eyes. Had it been a few months previous, he may have hesitated if not outright been resistant, but the two had known each other for a while now and through various adventures gained each other's trust. Maybe he could handle a lot by now.
"So today is actually the first day of Kwanzaa--" Aman started.
"What's Kwanzaa?" Sunil asked.
"It doesn't exist yet. It's a holiday...going to be a holiday. It's not like Christmas though, it's more culturally specific? Like, you know how my mom is--"
"Overbearing?"
"No! Well yes, but no."
"Ah."
"I mean Black."
"Oh!"
"Yeah, so, it's a holiday for that side of me. It's kind of like Hanukkah for Black people, I guess, except I was told not to call it that even though there's also the totally-not-a-menorah thing--"
"Oh, Hanukkah! They've been talking about that in the papers--"
"...This was a bad analogy whether it was offensive or not, then. Um. How do I--"
"Start off simple."
"...OK. So."
"Kwanzaa is a Black holiday that starts in the sixties. A lot happens in the sixties, but I digress. It's so new to you it hasn't even been invented yet, is my point. It's seven days long--Hanukkah is eight, for the record,but this isn't about Hanukkah--starting from December twenty-sixth and ending on New Year's Day. Each day has a theme, most likely about some form of making yourself or the community better. It's a really...productive. Kind of holiday. It's meant to productively bring people together. And we do that by having the "Seven Principles" which are yknow...principles we should live by? They're marked by candles and...that's where the not-a-menorah comes in and there's fruit and...and...what else..." Aman, the entire time, grew increasingly upset as more and more details escaped him. It felt like explaining green to someone who was colorblind, while being colorblind to green yourself. Eventually he gave up. "I'm sorry, I'm not good at explaining this. I only did it a few years. Natasha was always the one who was more connected to this stuff, we started doing it together in college and I didn't memorize everything--"
"It's fine, you're doing fine. We'll remember as we go." Sunil nodded slowly, then took a sip of his hot chocolate "So, what's today?"
"Heh. Funny you ask that." Aman smiled a bit, breathing. "It's kind of how you start everything. Asking 'Habari Gani?" or 'What's the news?'. Today is....Umoja, I think? It means Unity."
"Habari Gani..." Sunil repeated, rolling it around in his tongue. "And what do we do to celebrate Umoja?"
"Well there's not really a set.... thing to do. It's just we think about Unity, and do whatever honors that, I guess." Aman thought for a moment. Sunil thought as well. Sunil finished first.
"Well, I have a bit of an idea of what we could do--" Sunil said, hovering his hand over Mason's thigh, before patting it profusely. "Mason? Mason! Come on you sleepy-head, it's time to get up." Mason grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut before stirring.
"I used to charge people to touch my thighs like that." he said, clutching the couch cushion. He stretched a bit, then sat up on his elbows.
"Good thing it's free real-estate now. Get up, we have more holiday to do." Sunil said, drinking from his mug.
"More holiday? What, is it New Years already?" Mason asked. Sunil shook his head.
"Not exactly--"
"Oh boy is it New Years!?" A sudden burst came from the door of the Master bedroom. It was Sybil. "It feels like Christmas was just yesterday!"
"No, Sybil, it's not New Years." Sunil said.
"Are you sure? We haven't marked the calendar in months."
"I feel like you're gaslighting me? Yes, I'm sure."
"But are you? "
"... yes? "
Amidst the growing confusion, James emerged from the doorway.
"Shame, was ready to pop some more champagne." he smirked. He then kissed Sybil on the top of her head and addressed the room. "Good mornin' everybody. Happy Not-New Years."
"Right, it is Not-New Years. It's Kwanzaa, so the champagne can wait." Sunil paused "Is drinking normal on Kwanzaa?"
"What's a Kwanzaa?" Sybil asked.
"Is this an… Indian thing?" James asked.
"Now that's the segway we needed! and No, it's not! I actually have no idea about it! Well, I have some idea. Aman was just explaining it to me." Sunil turned back to Aman "Well! Go on!"
Aman blushed, slowly trying to recount once again what he could remember from Natasha's teaching. He mentioned the greeting again, and the Principles, the fruit and the Not-A-Menorah, which he remembered was probably called a Kinara, but don't quote him on that. He started off shaky, but as the thoughts came back so did some of what they did. The technical terminology was lost on him, but he began to soften in his explanation as though he were reminiscing, the longing in his stomach being fed yet aching evermore.
"And...yeah. That's what me and Natasha would do around this time of year. She came to my home a year or two and we spent it together. It was only a few years, but even then it feels like tradition."
The Gang had been patiently listening all the while, including Kit, who emerged from the kitchen with cups. While they didn't understand everything that was said, they understood *that* wholeheartedly. There was a somber silence in the room, before Sybil piped up.
"Why don't we do a Kwanzaa?" she said, raising her eyebrows towards the group. Aman shook his head
"But you're White! You can't just push your noses in a culture and start poking around in other people's deals!" he sputtered. James snorted.
"Sounds like White people to me." he said.
"That is very... White." Kit said.
"Really, it's a staple." Sybil said.
"Especially if you're British." Sunil said.
"Eau de White People." Mason punctuated, wafting the air. They all nodded in agreement. Aman sighed.
"Guys..." Aman wasn't so sure. Was it okay? He had no one else to celebrate with, and even he wasn't always sure he could do it himself. There was a certain fear in getting in touch with oneself, and he has been experiencing it for a while now. There were layers here, internal ones, that he didn't quite know how to deal with yet. Surely the semantics were okay, but there was something in him that wasn't quite comfortable accepting it yet. Sunil caught his shift, and cleared his throat to quiet the Gang.
"Well, we don't have to celebrate." he started "But isn't you getting together with some people mean that you * will be celebrating the Seven Principles, as you so called them?" Aman blinked.
"Well, yes..." he said. Sunil nodded.
"And the first one is Unity, right?" Sunil asked.
"Umoja. Yeah..." Wheels were turning.
"Alright then. I think spending time with the people the cosmos have stuck you with is pretty unifying, personally." Sunil smiled.
The people the cosmos have stuck me with Aman thought. That made the previous something more comfortable. It removed some of the intimacy of maybe calling them....family. They could be family. Sunil was family, but were the rest? He wasn't sure. He wasn't ready for that conversation. But, if the people the cosmos had stuck him with wanted to be around, well, who was he to tell the cosmos not to let them.
"Yeah. It is."