He looked around the
impeccably decorated wide arena of the mall . The thermocol icicles
tastefully hanging from the ceiling ,
the gloriously bedecked Christmas tree with a resplendent star on top , the
lifelike figures of reindeer and polar bears in a shining patch of thermocol
snow - this clubbed with the AC and lighting of the mall almost transported one
to a typical postcard Christmas-land .
Although his
employers had tried to motivate him to "get into the spirit of the
season" , he was in the sourest mood possible . It meant nothing at all to
"get into the spirit", as they put it. Life was nothing but a bunch
of miseries which kept throwing pellets of complications one after another -
much like a grotesque game of paintball played by the gods in high heavens .
His eyes followed a couple locking hands and entering into a store . They would
probably come out an hour later, hands
laden with presents for their loved ones . He would have gladly spent
all his money on a present - the problem was that there was no one to gift it
to .
A wave of bitterness
engulfed him . He felt bitter towards all the people in this complex of
materialistic joys. All the giggling ladies
, boisterous uncles , excited
teenagers who passed by him without looking ,
as though he was just another piece of decoration in the wall .
All his life he had
wanted to hide his true identity , mask his emotions and make himself invisible
to the world . And now he had just that very chance . It was a hard lesson he
had learnt very early in childhood - that no one cared . It mattered to nobody
whether he was alive , or begging for alms or crawling with a diseased body
with no one to listen to him. He had learnt to fend for himself , and he had
done it well . All he had to do was hide his emotions behind a mask and tend to
customers in the mall . No prospects of promotion, no preferences over what
kind of people he dealt with . It was
not a career , it was a job that provided for him - that was all .
He saw a bunch of
presents hanging from the Christmas tree and with a pang remembered the only
Christmas he had celebrated years and years ago . He vividly remembered the
small red car that "Santa" had left for him in the middle of the
night . He had tried to stay wide awake , to catch a glimpse of Santa , but
soon sleep took over and he was fast asleep in his mothers lap . When he woke
up the next morning , there it was , wrapped in a rough brown paper and left
for him at the feet of his worn out mattress .
But that was decades
, nay , light years ago . That was before his father had stabbed his mother in
a fit of drunken fury . Before he had to run for his life , leaving the broken
down hut that he called home . The memories of fleeting happiness that he had,
brought a tear to his eye .
A sudden commotion
brought him back to his senses , and he was almost surprised as he saw his
reflection in the glass door of a fashion store . His whole being was inundated
with sorrow , and yet his appearance showed no traces of it.
"SANTA ,
SANTA" screamed a little girl , tugging at her mothers arm . "I want
to shake hands with Santa" . She ran up to him and hugged him with pure
unadulterated delight .All the mother saw was the "Santa" hand over a
bunch of chocolates to her child . Little did she know that it was not Santa
who had given her a little girl a present. It was the little girl who had given
the dressed up Santa the gift of love that symbolized the true spirit of
Christmas .
