I am pondering over my wish list for Christmas.
This letter is to Santa Claus who sings and lives in the North Pole and not Santa Singh friend of Banta Singh.
I knew of your existences when I was a little girl at Manipal. You were there at the church ,giving us gifts and toffee, Christmas eve. We sang Rudolf the red nosed reindeer, and Jingle bells. Of course we did not ask for gifts or make lists, because those were not the days of flipkart or mall sponsored Santa. We did enjoy singing and then hogging the “eggless Christmas cake Ruby aunty made.” Oh! Yes we did not ask for gifts, because were told it was rude to ask, and being rude meant not good behaviour so we automatically would be not eligible for the gifts, and also we were not sure if you knew the addresses of Hindu houses.
One Christmas my BFF (those days I would never refer to her so, for BF meant boyfriend and obviously not mama approved.) and I did wonder if we could help you by discussing our inner greed. But unfortunately good sense prevailed, and the handsome priest who was to be our Christmas gift was saved.
When I became a mama, you became a little more secular, and even outsourced delivery to the local courier companies. Maybe on a busy day twenty-two thousand people would descend to visit you, and I believe that it was an elf’s lot to remain merry in the face of torment and adversity. Maybe that is why you had to outsource and have a PR- representative at the mall.
So I had an year long gratitude book for my daughters, they had to thank god for 5 good things in their life, and put drown one need and one greed. I then had a advent calendar each day there would be a small gift earrings, hairclips whatever. On Christmas , You would delegate your newly recruited courier company to do the delivery of the oft repeated greed usually a book.
There were times, I wondered how this whole concept of a stranger entering through our. Chimney—not that we have one—suggested burglary more readily than generosity. If you actually tried it maybe yo would have gotten a bullet in holly, jolly keister. But then I discovered the real meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with you, at all, nor about the toys and toffee you bring, it was about a very special gift and I want to tell you about that special gift. Sorry, Santa but you happen to be a fun read and twist on Christmas, because it involves you and jesus, and I am not saying you are bad or irrelevant, but Santa the true reason for the season is Jesus.
On my wish list, I wish you would call back all those outsourced upstarts you have on your call sheet, and just deliver the most precious gift of them all, the belief in love, belief in magic, that why we believe in you Santa, its also about belief in others, belief in ourselves, belief in our dreams and we don’t who will.
Santa can you give me the gift that will keep my belief intact?