Santa Ho!

ARMAAN Chawla has a pertinent point. I8217;ve assured him that Santa Claus will deliver the PS2 games he wants on Christmas Eve, to his house.

8216;8216;But I am going to Mahabaleshwar for Christmas,8217;8217; he sighs.

8216;8216;Well, then he will just have to come to Mahableshwar on his sleigh,8217;8217; I try.

8216;8216;But how will he know where we are staying?8217;8217;

8216;8216;Santa knows everything. Ho ho ho!8217;8217;

8216;8216;But how will he know which room we are in?8217;8217; persists the eight-year-old, his face a big question mark.

It doesn8217;t unnerve me. I had seen the same look on the face of the store managers at Westside, just that afternoon when I asked for the job. I knew what they were thinking. Five feet, 52 kg and female8212;not the best credentials for Kris Kringle. The store manager introduced me to their regular Santa8212;a portly, 6-footer male with an affable smile. They tried one last time: 8216;8216;Wouldn8217;t you rather wear a lady Santa outfit and we could have you both there as Mr and Mrs Santa?8217;8217;

8216;8216;Sorry folks, have to be the big guy,8217;8217; I smiled back.

The first step was to find a 8216;8216;small Santa8217;8217; costume. That in place, I was at the store at 5 pm. A red soft flannel trouser with a 40-inch waist that needed to be fluffed at the waist, a red tunic held in place by a black belt, a Santa cap, a white beard and moustache fashioned out of good ol8217; cotton wool with elastic bands that went behind the ears8212;I was a new person before you could say 8216;Merry Christmas8217;. The store8217;s tattoo painter applied the final touch: White paint on my eyebrows.

Tammy, the event manager, decided to give me a few lessons8212;8216;8216;Shake hand with kids, ask their names and say 8216;Merrrrrrry Chrissstmasss, ho ho ho!8217; loudly. A balloon and a sweet for all kids and a gift or photo with Santa for the ones whose parents have sponsored the same.8217;8217;

Two 8216;elves8217; were assigned to me as escorts who would indicate who needed to be handed out what. A Santa bag was the final accessory, in which I duly deposited my handbag, clothes, mobile and slugging it over the shoulder, wobbled out in size 12 gumboots.

Having managed to sit on the chair placed in what looked like Santa8217;s home in the North Pole, I was in business. A line formed within seconds and little Neha was there looking at me shyly. From petulant Pavan to cherubic Charu, all were treated to sweets, balloons and 8216;8216;ho-ho-hos8217;8217;. In half an hour, I ran out of all three. But it hadn8217;t been too bad. The kids looked convinced. Even though the beard elastic broke midway and I had to hastily put little Niharika down, duck inside the Santa house and use all my ingenuity to tie it up again, and though my mobile rang incessantly from inside the Santa bag, the kids never lost faith.

Till Armaan decided to get into the logistics of Santa8217;s gift distribution network. 8216;8216;But why can8217;t he give it to me earlier than Christmas Eve in my house?8217;8217; he continued. I told my elves to make a note and promised that I would look into it. By now, Manav had to be handed out the gift his parents had sponsored. It brought back Karthyk immediately8212;8216;8216;You didn8217;t give me a gift.8217;8217; Tammy had prepared me for such an eventuality and given a solution: 8216;8216;Just manage8217;8217;. Management included handing out five sweets instead of the rationed one to a much pleased Karthyk.

Time to mingle. A group of adolescent girls crowded one section. 8216;8216;What do you want for Christmas, girlies?8217;8217; I boomed.

8216;8216;Tennis racquet,8217;8217; chorused five aspiring Sania Mirzas.

Teenaged Manali walked up the stairs with her mother. 8216;8216;Merry Christmas, what do you want from Santa?8217;8217; I asked. 8216;8216;Nothing. I have everything,8217;8217; smiled Manali while doting mom fished out her cellphone and clicked us.

I decided to walk over to the ladies section to greet the adults, who, incidentally for cynics, seemed every bit as delighted as the kids to shake hands with Santa. My query to the salesgirl8212;8216;8216;show me something nice in red8217;8217;8212;elicited smiles, as did my inspection of hair colour at the cosmetic counter.

I soon realised that I had ambled out of the designated script. The store manager asked sheepishly if he could get their regular Santa back, so I could saunter around the store. It stung for a second but I obliged. I got back to the fitting rooms and became a mortal all over again. As I walked out in my jeans and shirt, no one gave me a second look. Kids had crowded the original Santa. Armaan was right in front, explaining to Santa that he had changed his mind. He didn8217;t want PS2 games, he wanted a watch.