A ‘letter’ from Santa...

Ho-ho-ho Ms Singh, I got your letter asking me to stopover at your Delhi residence. There was so much smoke in the air; I could see more chimneys than houses.

I tried flying low in my sleigh but Rudolf kept coughing, so I’m sorry to tell you I had to open up the oxygen masks you had asked for as gifts. His red nose had turned black with all the smog. I’ve had to increase the size of my sleigh, as all the kids these days ask for is bigscreen TVs, laptops and highend mobiles.

It’s hard to carry all that fragile stuff and impossible not to break them sliding down chimneys, so yes I just use the front door. It’s very difficult to tell if the children have been good or naughty, as they spend all day in front of screens and we cannot monitor online content from the North Pole, due to bad network. All my local elves had to be replaced with elves from China and Japan so I could cope up with the demand. I’ve also outsourced to India.

I was trying to navigate the flyovers and reach South Delhi; as its kids there who demand the most gifts; I lost my way and landed up in Karol Bagh.

When I greeted the Punjabis there with my customary Hoho-ho; they suddenly broke into a song, “Oh-ho-ho-ho, ohho-ho-ho, oh-ho ishq tera tadapave…”

They grabbed hold of me calling me ‘Santa Singh’ and started dancing the bhangra. The shopkeepers forced me to buy some ugly and overkill sweaters which looked too bulky even for the North Pole but they kept shouting in my ears “Pashmina pure pashmina….”

I hastened back to the park where I had left my reindeer and found Prancer was slumped over and retching after eating some leftover ‘chole-bhature’ from the open dustbin. He also mistook the toxic foam floating on the Yamuna for snow and ate some. As we dodged the crowds and sped away we nearly bumped into a herd of cows sitting bang in the middle of the road. I wanted to replace my sick reindeer with a sweet little jersey cow. As I was fastening her to the harness a mob surrounded me and called the Police. I asked if I could borrow a buffalo instead but they said it was a really bad idea as only ‘Yama’ the God of Death rode a buffalo.

I somehow managed to reach your house; placed gifts under the undernourished Araucaria bush that you pass off for a Christmas tree, but at least you don’t cut Fir trees. The reindeer helped themselves to the snacks you left for us. Those oily ‘pakoras’ and ‘samosas’ were spicy as hell but thanks to you, Rudolf’s nose is red again.

Next Christmas if you continue to live in Delhi I might need Sonar. I’m heading back before you humans melt my polar ice caps too. I’ve made my sleigh amphibious just in case. Yours in jest,

Santa Claus ‘Singh’

(Disclaimer: This letter is a work of fiction, humour and satire on our current times. It is not intended to defame anyone)

FOR REPRESENTATIONAL PURPOSE ONLY