I know the concept of Santa Cluas is pure myth and childish. He is just a legendary character. Neither anyone has ever seen it nor has any evidence that would trail us to the place of Santa. So a big portly joyful man with pounds of beard covering his face, wearing red, laughing and singing, shouting ho-ho-ho and carrying a bag full of gifts, is mere an illusion.
Yet, just for a while, keeping all the logics aside, let the child inside us imagine that there is Santa, who will come to you on the night before Christmas and silently slip something you wish for in the hanging stockings, something that you would have been banging your legs before your parents to bring. Then? What would you wish for?
Let me guess. A beach house, a month long vacation to some exotic place, a handsome guy or pretty girl, whichever is your pick, straight out of dream, a successful career, big promotion, name and fame. That’s what adults would wish for. By the time we grow up, our mind is so adulterated and disciplined by the societies need and our need that the only thing we see is ourselves. We are so busy to even pause a while and think back of what is going around before the destruction has inched in before us.
When I was around six years old and barely could speak Merry Christmas, I wished for a sister. A sister, with whom I would share my bed and my gossips. I would take her hand and walk her around. I would bring her chocolates of my share. I would spend in her choice of toy from my pocket money. I would warn her against the perverts. I would not let any boy make her cry. And if it happened the guy would not be alive to take another single breath. I would be the proud and fierce protective elder sister. I became an elder sister but to a cute lil boy. I won’t say I regret it but still, I craved for a sister.
When I was around fifteen years old, an age where hormones get a mind of their own and your brain becomes a complete useless puddle, I wanted somehow to bump to my then bollywood heartthrob. I wished to talk to him, impress him, surprise him somehow. I wanted to go out with him, pose before shutterbugs holding his hand, become a front-page news. Ah! What a silly wish. And I was so desperate that time that you can replace all the ‘wished’ in the lines with ‘was dying’.
Now that I am twenty-two this Christmas, do you know what I wish for? I think you will laugh at me when I say my unrealistic wish. This time I wish from Santa to take me to a world, where no one will be killing someone else for their religion. No one will be shameless enough to say that a girl was raped because she was using a mobile phone and no one will be ridiculous enough to support them. No one will be butchered because they loved someone from other caste. No girl will be burnt alive because her parents could not afford the skyscraper demands from her in-laws. No child will be pumped in to death because some a$*hole doctor diagnosed its gender as female. And because I tired here. I am tired of accepting all these bullshit. I am tired of realizing this mindlessness of people and this imbalance between progression of science and contraption of people’s mind. I don’t want to be a part these people. I want to go away.
I don’t whether my wish will be fulfilled or not, but yet before going to bed I wish for this and hope that tomorrow in the eve of Merry Christmas my wish will be fulfilled.
On this pretext, I would love to know what is your wish for this Christmas? Please do comment.
P.S: The post was supposed to be posted yesterday night only. But I have a bunch of crazy friend who don’t think I should even write in Christmas. Hope this procrastination will be forgiven.