Santa Snapshots

I have lived all my life in the North Pole. My travel experience is practically none except for a brief flight across the skies in my sleigh during Christmas, every December. So, last year, I decided that I will go to the South Pole for my Christmas holidays and spread some cheer around there. But, as most well-planned tour itineraries are prone to disasters, imagine my plight when my sleigh broke down and Rudolph nosedived into a strange land which showed on my Blackberry as Bharat. I hit the translate button and it said, India.

With my sleigh out of action and Rudolph down with a broken red nose, I was sitting by the roadside when a bullock cart came along at full gallop. “Hi, I am Rajnikanth. You are a familiar bloke; aren’t you Santanam something-or-the-other?”

“Hey, I am Santa Claus, buddy. And, I know you, too. Seen a movie clip… Murattu…something-or-the-other, on YouTube, in which you were travelling on a similar contraption. My vehicle has gone kaput and my reindeer has a broken nose. There lies the poor fellow. I have all these presents to deliver to the South Pole and it’s almost Christmas Eve,” said I.

“Here, Santanam, Santa, whatever, take my buggy and go about your chores. Just drop me off at the bazaar,” offered Rajnikanth.

So, I dropped off the gracious soul at the crowded bazaar and trundled away with a “hey and a ho and a ‘cluck-cluck’.”

The bullock and attached cart was no match to my air-travel friendly sleigh, but it was helpful in carrying my bag of goodies. Only, South Pole was out of question. Where was I? I switched on the GPS and my location said: Madras that is Chennai. Zooming in some more, I found that I was on the banks of a stinking waterway called Cooum. The emaciated bullock was ambling along when out of the blue a three-wheeled yellow and black monster swerved in front, a la Arnold in Terminator, and almost toppled my buggy.

To my surprise, the bullock reared up on its hind legs and took off into the air. Away I sailed away, leaving good ole Rudolph and the broken sleigh. Before I could say Ho Ho Ho, we were hovering over some very tall skyscrapers and swiftly heading downwards into a concrete jungle. My GPS said, Mumbai. Landing on Marine Drive, I noticed a film shoot taking place. A furiously gyrating and garishly dressed man stopped when the music seized and ambled across to my cart: “Oh Fish! What do we have here? Hey, I am King Khan. Aren’t you that Claus fella?”

Said I, “I know you, pal. I do watch MTV, you know. Got a gift for you, a fire extinguisher head gear. Every time you light up a cigarette, it will spray water on it.” Challenging me, he lit up one right under the nose of my bullock, startling the poor beast. He took off again into the murky, polluted skies hauling me and my presents to some distant city.

Being travel weary I dozed off while the bullock decided on his own course of direction. It finally decided that a chimney should be his final destination and headed for one in a seemingly village location, thatched roof and all. As he crashed through the smoking chimney and fell bang into the pot of boiling rice, I felt myself hurled into the fire…I screamed and woke up with a start…it was a dream, after all. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner of my room and beneath that I found a gift, all wrapped up and inviting. Merry Christmas to me!
By Nikhil Raghavan