Hairstylist Sagar’s household is one of the many where the virus has literally stolen the Christmas. “This year has been full of uncertainty,” he says, ruefully. “Personally, my family has been majorly affected by Covid-19. Three of our [family] members including my brother, my wife and my 90-year old father got infected.”

He speaks of his celebration of Advent which only points to a quiet and isolated Christmas, unlike any before: “I am mentally prepared for it. Can you believe there are still people who deny its existence?”

Sagar isn’t the only one who is visited by such depressing thoughts in the days leading up to the annual Christian festival. The Kot Lakhpat Parish, one of the main cathedrals in the city which attracts hundreds of the faithful every December, is already missing its usual exuberance and bustle. The church hasn’t arranged a single event in the past month. The Advent celebrations have almost completely vanished.

Father John Joseph, a priest at the Parish, echoes Sagar’s sentiment of scepticism but is realistic about how the often-ignored community would find it hard to cope. “All churches have been issued the SOPs for the occasion by the state,” he tells TNS. “The political leaders have also communicated with us about following the guidelines. We’ve consistently made [the community] aware of the risks involved. This is in everyone’s interests, after all.”

The Kot Lakhpat church is quite big and popular. According to Father Joseph, it is hard to say what kind of a turnout will be witnessed at a place which is close to Christian colonies and where thousands have shown up for congregations in previous years.

Prayers may be the only thing many shall stick to this year, says Architect Ahsam Saulat, who is in his late twenties. Despite government measures to protect businesses, many at the bottom of the wage spectrum have been forced to scale back on even the bare necessities of life.

“We first need to understand the percentage of Christians in Pakistan,” he adds. “It isn’t more than 2 percent. Now, how many of them do you think would be based in Lahore? Secondly, festivities are defined by the economic condition of an individual or a family. “For a community already marginalised and mostly below the poverty line, the occasion is visibly a low-key affair any way.”

This is also true of the 57 years old Angel Yaqoob, a single mother of six whose life is in great contrast with that of the people for whom she works part-time as a janitor in Model Town. She is a resident of Youhanabad.

Lahore is home to all kinds of Christians. This means that unlike the community members in Sindh, most of who claim roots in Goa and hold white-collar jobs in the port city of Karachi, Yaqoob is most probably a descendant of low-caste Hindus who were converted by foreign missionaries. Opportunities in all spheres of their life are few and meagre.

Yaqoob’s children, who are outstation, will take the train to Lahore to be with their mother on the eve of Christmas. They may not be able to celebrate as always, but the day will still be about being together and enjoying the festive spirit. Vanessa Alam, on the other hand, has planned to “send out handmade baskets full of homemade goodies.”

For Yaqoob, Christmas this year is only another reminder of the grim realities of life. “Usually, [on Christmas day] we have the morning mass after which we visit people’s houses for eidi. But this year, we’ve decided against the practice. People who offer sanitation jobs only to non-Muslims, and have separate cutlery for the choohras, will be biased against us and our hygiene standards,” she says.

Lockdown and the restrictions imposed on the public, coupled with the fear of the pandemic, have led to a substantial rise in levels of anti-social behaviour, stripping the minority Christian community of an already scarce holiday spirit at this time of the year.

Digital marketer and publicist, Vanessa Alam, the brain behind @millennium.alam on Instagram, reminisces about Christmases of the past. She sounds excited as she recalls playing an angel in the annual school play and singing as a soprano in the junior school choir. “The annual Christmas play at the Convent of Jesus & Mary used to be a big affair,” she says. “It would kick off the Christmas season for us. The rehearsals would be held in front of all the school children. Even the Muslim students looked forward to the performance. Because the schools are shut due to the pandemic, they are unable to put together performances now.

“Then there’s the Christmas mass which includes carol singing. Alas, this year, we’ll have none of that.”

Christmas was never a big affair in Pakistan, and it’s no surprise that every person contacted for this feature wished to experience a “white Christmas” once in their lives. With time, most have even stopped questioning why and understood that “we are in a Muslim country, after all.”

Interestingly, the non-Christian communities, chiefly the liberal elite, have increasingly taken fancy to Christmas festivities. Shops and restaurants in posh localities now routinely put up Christmas trees with humble decorations and set up lights to adorn their walls.

Zeeshan Latif, 22, is a lights technician at a local shop. He talks about preparing his children for a quiet Christmas. “It isn’t much of a holiday for me,” he declares. “Christmas, in our household, has always revolved around the children.”

Latif, better known as Shani on sets, says his Christmas day activities included a family excursion to the Lahore Zoo and parks as well as Joy Land in Fortress. Besides, his elder son likes to attend the annual performance of nativity at the Regal church.

“We haven’t discussed it yet but my elder one who has not been to school in months has an idea of what’s coming and has been a little glum lately,” he adds.

As an afterthought, Shani says that “it might not be that bad after all. You know, how things can get chaotic at the mass. Maybe fewer people this year would mean a calmer congregation. It would be so peaceful.”

Shani’s optimism is reflective of Pakistani Christians’ resilience. From 1970 to date, the Christian population in the country has dropped by over 28 percent. The community continues to face sectarian, ethnic and communal discrimination; their places of worship are attacked, their properties stolen, they are charged with blasphemy and their children are picked up and forced to convert.

Luckily, cultures are kept alive by the younger generation that remains committed to preserving, promoting and developing their traditions. On December 23, four of Angel Yaqoob’s children, who are outstation, will take the train to Lahore to be with their mother on the eve of Christmas. They may not be able to celebrate as always, but the day will still be about being together and enjoying the festive spirit.

Vanessa Alam, on the other hand, has planned to “send out handmade baskets full of homemade goodies, and a token of lots of love,” as she puts it. The goodies include an assortment of cakes, pastries, biscuits and a cardboard Santa Claus.

The writer works as an editor for Profit magazine and can be contacted at mariamzermina@gmail.com