Santa Comes!
http://www.webarticles.com/Santa-Comes/a8119_1
Laxminarayan
By Laxminarayan
Published on 01/29/2009
Santa Claus means different things to different people. For children, however, he means time to enjoy, to celebrate and to shop and receive gifts in return.
Santa Comes!
SANTA COMES!
MY earliest memories of the affable old man date back to the time when I couldn't even spell Santa Claus. I was a little brat who tried to stop his running nose with his shirt-sleeves. That was the time when my mother used to put me to sleep by frightening me with the images of a fat old man with white flowing beard who would carry me away from her and the family to the land of demons if I didn't sleep. And it worked. And how!
I BEGAN to associate this frightful character with this smiling (?) red-clothed (red for danger?) man who would appear on the occasional greeting cards my father received around the time of December. I was naively convinced that the big sack on his back was full of naughty children who wouldn't sleep easily.
SO, it was a pleasant surprise when the grand old man with the bag sack appeared in flesh and blood at a children's party my father's 'gora saab' (white boss) had given on that December evening. My first reaction, I remember, had been to scream and run away when he put his sack down. And just when I was about to faint with fear, to my surprise, instead of stuffing poor little me into the sack, he fished out a big prize for me. I squealed with joy.
ON reaching home, I quarreled with my mother for telling me untrue things about the friendly old man with the red dress and the flowing white beard. And, for once, she had no answer to my questions. Maybe it had something to do with her belief that Santa Claus (I had found out his name by now!) belonged to Christianity, a faith she neither understood nor followed.
I HAVE come a long way since those days. I know now how Santa Claus must have felt when I used to run away from him, even when he beckoned me so lovingly. Some children used to do that to me. Yes, I know what it feels like to be Santa Claus.
MY only niece's birthday happened to be on Christmas Day. Ever since I left the shores of India in search of greener pastures (!) to Dubai, I started celebrating her birthday in the company of a few children who were my friends. When one of the younger children asked me if Santa Uncle was attending the birthday party, I said to myself, "Why not?" An old Christian lady stitched the red costume for me, complete with the cap and the sack. A lively mask with flowing white beard, bought from one of the super-markets, completed the picture and Santa Claus was born. "HE is here… He is here!", came the squeals of delight from the surprised children. Joy, disbelief loomed large on their innocent faces. They came from everywhere. They were of all ages, all faiths. What bound them together was that they all wanted to see Santa Claus, touch him, feel him, be a part of the joy he brought, and, yes, grab the gifts he carried for them. It was to share this joy that I jumped at the offer when one of leading departmental stores, the Mohebi Centre in Dubai, offered me an assignment to move about as Santa Claus for some days.
MY ready costume came in handy at this time. I only asked the Centre to supply me with big black gum-shoes. I remembered that on an earlier occasion, a child had asked me why Santa didn't have his gum-shoes on. I was completely foxed for a moment before I answered that he didn't need them in Dubai sands. The different questions asked by children kept me alert throughout my brief stint.
"WHY are you so thin, Santa?," a little girl asked.
"WHY is your beard so white?" asked another.
"YOU are not real, are you?," doubted one curious boy.
YET another wanted to take off my mask. What I was like behind the mask, no one knew. It was like seeing the world from so near… and yet, so far.
"WHEN did you come from Panchgani?" I asked a boy who, I knew, was studying in a boarding school there.
"HOW do you know I study there?", he asked in bewilderment.
"SANTA knows everything."
'YOU know my daddy, too?"
"YES, when he was a little toddler."
AND he just stared at my flowing white beard and nodded.
THEY came singly and they came in large numbers. Some came just to see and feel Santa, to shake hands with him, to get photographed with him. Some came again and again for the gifts. Many parents dragged their children, hiding the presents they had already got and asked for more. Some invited Santa to come to their homes.
"SANTA, will you come to my house?," one boy asked, pulling my cloak gently.
'OF COURSE, I will, darling."
"WILL you come for Eid to my house?"
"YES, I will."
"THEN will you come to my house for Diwali, too?"
THESE questions symbolized their belief in Santa.. Santa Claus was no more a Christian symbol for them. He knew no barriers of time and place and religion. He was just a harbinger of peace, goodwill and joy -- be it Eid, Diwali or Christmas. For a child knows no religion, other than that of humanity. In the adult world, full of strife, tension, terrorism and war, each child comes with the message from God that He is not yet disappointed with man. And Santa Claus comes with but an extension of that all-important message.
MY earliest memories of the affable old man date back to the time when I couldn't even spell Santa Claus. I was a little brat who tried to stop his running nose with his shirt-sleeves. That was the time when my mother used to put me to sleep by frightening me with the images of a fat old man with white flowing beard who would carry me away from her and the family to the land of demons if I didn't sleep. And it worked. And how!
I BEGAN to associate this frightful character with this smiling (?) red-clothed (red for danger?) man who would appear on the occasional greeting cards my father received around the time of December. I was naively convinced that the big sack on his back was full of naughty children who wouldn't sleep easily.
SO, it was a pleasant surprise when the grand old man with the bag sack appeared in flesh and blood at a children's party my father's 'gora saab' (white boss) had given on that December evening. My first reaction, I remember, had been to scream and run away when he put his sack down. And just when I was about to faint with fear, to my surprise, instead of stuffing poor little me into the sack, he fished out a big prize for me. I squealed with joy.
ON reaching home, I quarreled with my mother for telling me untrue things about the friendly old man with the red dress and the flowing white beard. And, for once, she had no answer to my questions. Maybe it had something to do with her belief that Santa Claus (I had found out his name by now!) belonged to Christianity, a faith she neither understood nor followed.
I HAVE come a long way since those days. I know now how Santa Claus must have felt when I used to run away from him, even when he beckoned me so lovingly. Some children used to do that to me. Yes, I know what it feels like to be Santa Claus.
MY only niece's birthday happened to be on Christmas Day. Ever since I left the shores of India in search of greener pastures (!) to Dubai, I started celebrating her birthday in the company of a few children who were my friends. When one of the younger children asked me if Santa Uncle was attending the birthday party, I said to myself, "Why not?" An old Christian lady stitched the red costume for me, complete with the cap and the sack. A lively mask with flowing white beard, bought from one of the super-markets, completed the picture and Santa Claus was born. "HE is here… He is here!", came the squeals of delight from the surprised children. Joy, disbelief loomed large on their innocent faces. They came from everywhere. They were of all ages, all faiths. What bound them together was that they all wanted to see Santa Claus, touch him, feel him, be a part of the joy he brought, and, yes, grab the gifts he carried for them. It was to share this joy that I jumped at the offer when one of leading departmental stores, the Mohebi Centre in Dubai, offered me an assignment to move about as Santa Claus for some days.
MY ready costume came in handy at this time. I only asked the Centre to supply me with big black gum-shoes. I remembered that on an earlier occasion, a child had asked me why Santa didn't have his gum-shoes on. I was completely foxed for a moment before I answered that he didn't need them in Dubai sands. The different questions asked by children kept me alert throughout my brief stint.
"WHY are you so thin, Santa?," a little girl asked.
"WHY is your beard so white?" asked another.
"YOU are not real, are you?," doubted one curious boy.
YET another wanted to take off my mask. What I was like behind the mask, no one knew. It was like seeing the world from so near… and yet, so far.
"WHEN did you come from Panchgani?" I asked a boy who, I knew, was studying in a boarding school there.
"HOW do you know I study there?", he asked in bewilderment.
"SANTA knows everything."
'YOU know my daddy, too?"
"YES, when he was a little toddler."
AND he just stared at my flowing white beard and nodded.
THEY came singly and they came in large numbers. Some came just to see and feel Santa, to shake hands with him, to get photographed with him. Some came again and again for the gifts. Many parents dragged their children, hiding the presents they had already got and asked for more. Some invited Santa to come to their homes.
"SANTA, will you come to my house?," one boy asked, pulling my cloak gently.
'OF COURSE, I will, darling."
"WILL you come for Eid to my house?"
"YES, I will."
"THEN will you come to my house for Diwali, too?"
THESE questions symbolized their belief in Santa.. Santa Claus was no more a Christian symbol for them. He knew no barriers of time and place and religion. He was just a harbinger of peace, goodwill and joy -- be it Eid, Diwali or Christmas. For a child knows no religion, other than that of humanity. In the adult world, full of strife, tension, terrorism and war, each child comes with the message from God that He is not yet disappointed with man. And Santa Claus comes with but an extension of that all-important message.