Christmas! The most beautiful time of the year.
Being in a convent school, Christmas is always a treat!
There is jovial carol singing in the morning assemblies, a decorated manger near the entrance, and to top it all off, a real, living Christmas tree on campus adorned with ornaments every year.
All the classes jazz up their classrooms in an unofficial competition of who could decorate better. The Christmas spirit is accelerated when our class teachers give motivational speeches to decorate. The tone of the speeches was even more motivational than the “Study well for the exam” speeches. At least, we thought it is that way. We as kids, always bend rules in our favor.
All excited for the annual Christmas party. An event that is no less than a red carpet for us. It’s the one day we could wear colored clothing in place of beige uniforms. Weeks took in planning the appropriate outfits complete with accessories. A stylish bag pack is a must, the smaller the better. The small backpack is a symbol of freedom and merriment as opposed to the scene of the bigger-than-us bags of constraint we used to carry every day.
The party is traditionally organized by the fifth graders for the entire school. They sing carols and re-enact the birth of Jesus. By the time I had completed my schooling, I had the history of Jesus and the lyrics of traditional carols imprinted on my brain.
The party is an excuse for friend circles to organize ‘Secret Santas’. Every year we promised to keep it a secret, but eventually, everyone would find out who their Secret Santa was. Though the name of the Santa was revealed, at least the gift remained a secret till it was opened.
This was a complete antithesis to the concept of Saint Nicholas, our original Santa. We don’t know who he is…but we do know what gifts he gets us as we give him the specifications ourselves.
In my humble opinion, Secret Santa must be renamed as Private Presents.
***
Speaking of Santa, I, a sixth-grader, still believed he was real. The reason? My parents gifted me things every Christmas on behalf of Santa and hadn’t given me ‘the talk’ yet.
It must be so sad for parents to burn a hole in their pockets buying gifts just to see Santa get all the credit. Then again, ‘getting on Santa’s good list’ is a much more efficient way to get the kids to do exactly what the parents want.
In my case, I felt my parents wanted to make the ‘good list trick’ work for a long time and it did.
***
One fine morning, I was discussing Christmas wish lists with my friend...
Me: I want a new doll and art supplies from Santa. What do you want for Christmas?
Friend: I want a lot of things…but…do you really think Santa is real?
Me: Of course he is! Why’d you think otherwise? I get gifts every year.
Friend: Just a thought… I don’t think he exists.
Me: Mmm… I’m going to ask for pictures of himself from the north pole in my wish list. That’ll give you a proof of his existence.
My illogical brain couldn’t fathom a world without a jolly man riding flying reindeers. I went home that day and updated my Christmas wish list.
Mind you, this was a time when I’d figured out the tooth fairy was just my parents slipping me money under my pillow. My puny, little brain thought, Santa was a whole different concept. The tooth fairy wasn’t real because she can’t have so much money. She would destroy the world economy if she minted cash out of nowhere, was the logic I stuck with. After all, flying reindeers were very believable. Magic triumphs science, always.
***
Soon it was Christmas Day! I ran to the Christmas tree where the presents were kept. I got a pink envelope with red handwriting on it from Santa telling me what a good girl I was! There were glossy images of Santa with his sleigh. I was overjoyed and held it like a trophy.
When school commenced again…I showed the images to my friend and for a brief moment, she was confused about the existence of Santa…and believed me.
This was another year of me being a goody-two-shoes in hopes of bigger Christmas gifts.
***
Soon another year came…making lists…and checking them twice. Santa Claus was coming to town but our family was out of town.
We came back on Christmas in the evening…and I was heartbroken to see that there were no gifts in the house. My parents reasoned that since we locked the door, Santa couldn’t get in. He was a man of ethics…no breaking and entering.
The next day, the gifts were there. The magical fog in my brain cleared up though. I was a lot more logical and finally figured out, my parents were giving gifts on behalf of Santa.
***
I felt sad…I wanted him to exist. I remember what I said that day… “So what if Santa doesn’t exist…I still believe in magic.”
When I look back at the incident today it still makes me believe in a world full of magic.
Hugging my parents did feel like magic that day.
Santa does not exist, but little do they know, I have the gift of his two magical elves.
Like I said, magic triumphs science, always.
Comments