Dear Santa

© by 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

From: SC
To: SC
Subject: Dear Santa 

I hope this letter finds you thriving and emotionally resilient, sipping a Piña colada somewhere... because I have some concerns.

I am xxxtyxxx years young. XXXTYxxx. Which means I have been a loyal believer to your whole cockamamie narrative for decades. And yet, despite being mostly good in the last few days (well, minor snarkiness on the WhatsCrapp groupchats notwithstanding), my Christmas wish list has now been ignored yet again, for the last FIFTY CHRISTMASES IN A ROW.

At this point, Santa, this feels... Intentional. Personal. Malicious.

And while we’re talking about it, can we discuss these unfair WhatsCrapp posts about... fruitcakes from Nahoum’s? Honestly!

One old lug who calls himself Jug, in full & nauseatingly nostalgic mode, writes something like:

“Slap, Tickle, The Lousy, blah blah blah…" and suddenly everyone is waxing poetic about a "Jewish bakery baking a Christmas fruitcake, celebrating a Christian tradition, for their largely Hindu bhadralok clientele.” 

Santa, if that isn’t the most Calcutta Christmas sentence ever written, I don’t know what is. And yet people are still not offended. By fruitcake. FRUITCAKE. I am not sure about Nahoum's but an average fruitcake has magical properties and is guaranteed to survive earthquakes, floods, fires. It can even be used as a weapon or a structural brick here in Da RedWhiteBlueLandistan.

But I digress. Let’s review my this year’s (very short, very reasonable) wish list:

* The latest geezer gizmos that make me feel futuristic, not fossilized. Without the annoying beeps, buzzes or dings disturbing my naps. 

* A smartphone dumber than me. One that remembers where I left it. The one which does not freeze, frightened by my face. One that actually unlocks without me having to beg it, threaten it or yell at it. 

* Wireless earbuds that don’t fall out like my dentures or my hair.

* A smartwatch that tracks my naps accurately (which is less than half of what Mrs. YT accuses me of! Believe me!!)

* A non-achey back. Or a knee upgrade.Firmware or hardware, I’m open, so it doesn't pop like bubble wrap. 

* One miracle, brand-name preferred. Or one original funny joke in WhatsCrapp, not more lazy forwards from 1986.

* And Good Kids. Whirled Peas. 

Let's review your non-performance this year against the wish list. What did I receive? Socks. Undies. AGAIN. Socks that scream, “You should lie down after this email.” The tighty-whiteys that don't slide off.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Yours Truly (YT) seems to have received MOST, if not all of the items on her list. How do I know? Because she has been chirpily singing and calling every sakhi & saheli in her entire phone book since early morning. Santa, it’s like living inside a celebratory call center.

I left you fresh low-fat milk (not implying anything or body shaming, mind you). Soft cookies, low-sugar. Antacids. I went to bed early, before prime Santa visitation hours. I practically rolled out the red carpet for you and those dang reindeers. And still… undies, socks and a lump of coal?

Which brings me, regrettably, to a rather delicate and sensitive topic.

I am beginning to have… questions about your whole Santa scam operation. If this trend continues, I may be forced to look under the tulsi shrub for a cake baked by Ralison's (R. Ali & Son Cake Shop & Bakery) instead. As for my toys, well, let’s be honest, your competition's elves are not asleep. They are toiling 24 - 7. Amma Jan still delivers next day or sooner, provided Mrs. YT's credit cards have not been naughty. And unlike you, she believes in gift receipts.

I’m not angry, Santa. Just just deeply disappointed. Profoundly, seasonally disillusioned. You did sock it to me again. While my toes are snuggly warm in these woolen socks and I am wearing fresh undies, this youngster is still gizmo-poor.

Next year, please do better. Or at least send a tracking number.

Festively snarky,

A XXXTYxxx-Year-Old Young'un

Desperately wanting to believe… But Actively Exploring Alternatives

(Apologies to Jug Suraiya and his article about A Calcutta Christmas)