Editor’s Note: A first, this is a creative piece exploring the art of letter writing. Thus far DoubleSpeak Magazine has published letters by readers critiquing others’ works, or Founder’s messages or even book reviews. This one though is an imaginative exploration of the form and hopefully will revive the lost yet intimate art of letter writing.
25th. Dec. 2020
Dearest Santa,
Last night at twelve, I had a strange wish to receive a gift from you! Although some secret Santa from my workplace had already Amazoned a gift to me, I wanted something from the real you, Santa Claus!
I am past my prime and pining for presents is a past too however, I know not why I felt greedy for a gift. Maybe some green-girl instinct.
Santa, you are such an unmissable part of our lives and I wonder how you fly across the globe and drop gifts at every eager home Christmas after Christmas. I recall having first read about you when I was in grade three. In the prescribed Hindi Reader for that year, there was this story of St Nicholas, which was about this old man named Nicholas, with a long snowy beard, and a poor family that was cold and starving that winter. The old man heard the children cry and pine for cookies and candies, warm mittens, and gifts. What stayed with me was how Nicholas had quietly placed gifts for them on their windowsill.
Our Hindi teacher, the plump and pretty, Ms Kapoor told us that he was you and you still come stealthily year after year in the dead of the night and place gifts for all.
Four decades down, the story still stays in some silent corner of my heart. And of course, in the years that followed, I would each Christmas, hang a clean stocking next to my bed, and, lo and behold, there would always be some candies and cookies. Adolescence came galloping and trotted away too soon and soon the stockings disappeared. I would worry about you Santa and would envy my neighbours, friends, and cousins who had received their Christmas gifts. I would fret and find reasons for not receiving the gifts. Maybe you didn’t like my freckled face, maybe you had come to know about my poor performance as Maa would say, maybe you knew that I bit my nails and had maimed my fingers or maybe we were too rich to receive gifts. Santa there were times when I had wished I were as poor as the kids in the story, then nothing could have stopped you from sledging into our driveway and quietly placing the present under my pillow.
The longing for some gift someday from you continued.
Santa my kids grew up receiving gifts every Christmas. They had special demands and would write letters to you about their requirement. Some genetic trait and tendency, I guess!
Now they too have outgrown those yearnings but honestly Santa, I still wait for you. Do come over someday Santa, when you are tired of sledging and when your hands grow heavy with gifts and you feel cold, just walk into my home for a warm Christmas hug and coffee. The two of us can have a good time together while the world would carol away till the wee hours of the morning.
Santa, you can park your reindeers in the basement of my building. I promise I won't urge you to stay long knowing your schedule around Xmas.
Hope you read my letter that would be one among the infinite letters you receive. I would keep waiting for you Santa to come over to my humble heath some Christmas evening, even if my hair snowed up completely to match your snowy beard! (LOL)
Waiting……
Yours lovingly
M
DoubleSpeak 