A kangaroo man’s letter to Mr Santa

‘Santaji, I’m not looking for material gifts like a xylophone or a PlayStation, though I guess who wouldn’t mind an iPad that works...’

Afew days ago my daughter Maya asked me a very important question: “Is grandma Santa Claus?’’ I decided to tell her the truth. “Honey,” I said, “I honestly don’t know.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the only truthful answer. Who is Santa Claus? Is there a Santa Claus? And who is to say that your grandmother is not Santa Claus?

There are many stories about Santa Claus. Some say that he was a house painter, another that he worked in a graveyard, a third say that he was left- handed. However, this article is not about the elusive, enigmatic Santa Claus. This article is about the pain of a man named Deepak Sharma.
Mr Deepak, my neighbour, is a 30-something bachelor, polite and friendly. The only odd thing about him is that he enters an elevator with both feet together (much like a kangaroo, I imagine). A few days ago, a piece of paper drifted into my balcony. Thinking it was Veena Malik’s latest photo, I looked at it in a hurry. However, to my surprise, I found inside a letter to Santa Claus, not just a Christmas list but a letter. A defiant letter of a little man who enters lifts in the manner of a kangaroo who has had enough. Here are the contents:

Dear Mr Santa,
Jai Ho! I am writing you this letter just in case you exist. Now if you don’t, please don’t bother reading. Santa, first let me not waste time in introducing myself, instead if you’d like to know more about me, feel free to Google my name. Everyone says I look much thinner in person... er... just like you. Santaji, I’m not looking for any conventional material gifts like a xylophone or a PlayStation, though I guess who wouldn’t mind an iPad that actually works. Santaji, I’m only writing about improvements I want in my city so we don’t have to live like the prehistoric man did when he first discovered Lokhandwala. Let me start with the roads. Repair work is constant and never-ending, causing dust, debris and traffic jams. These are the three main ingredients you need to have to qualify as a third-world state. Some of these roads are never going to be finished. Sher Shah Suri built the Grand Trunk Road, one of the longest roads in the world, all by himself (okay maybe three-four people helped him). However, Sher Shah Suri will probably drown himself if he’s offered the Oshiwara to Andheri highway road, not to mention the once pristine Nepean Sea Road, which has now been officially declared a minefield. Santaji, can you please look into this matter? And in keeping with the Christmas spirit, if you could bury all the people, from bureaucrats to engineers to politicians, under the very roads they made, I think you’ll spread a lot of Christmas cheer!
Secondly Santaji, in Mumbai, motorcyclists are unaware of one-way roads. While the rest of the traffic goes in one direction, morons on bikes drive in the opposite direction, without a care in the world. If they could also be buried under the roads mentioned above, facing the wrong direction, I think this particular Christmas will really be all about giving.
Finally Santaji every time a VIP comes to our city, the entire police force and government machinery drop everything and line up on Marine Drive to salute the honoured guest. Traffic grinds to a halt, lakhs of Mumbaikars are inconvenienced as hundreds of vehicles escort the VIP like he’s the only citizen alive in our city. While he goes to and fro we are all supposed to wait and watch television. It’s worse than waiting for Sachin’s 100th ton. Can’t the VIPs along with their chamchas be consigned to under one of our never-ending roads so that the rest of us can deck our halls with boughs of Holly? Sorry to intrude into your valuable time. I ask for nothing else, just some civic cooperation... er... and if there is a spare iPad going around... er... I’ll leave that to you.
Yours faithfully,
Deepak

Folks, I don’t want to judge Mr Deepak’s letter. His grievances are spot on, but burial? I mean how the hell will those roads ever get ready if we put so many more useless bodies under them?
Merry Christmas to all not mentioned in Mr Deepak’s letter.

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