Santa Came to Kolkata

Christmas in Calcutta has always been a nice time. Hailing from a liberal family we always enjoyed the revelry of the festive season in Park Street. Nahoum’s cake ( the last Jewish shop in New Market), Flurys pastries, Jim Reeves, midnight mass at St. Paul’s cathedral and fairs in Maidan were parts of Calcutta living. As a child, I always received goodies in Christmas. That none other than Santa Claus brought them was my firm belief until my age of innocence was gone.

So it was natural that my nephew Harsh would be treated likewise during Christmas. And being a little child Harsh always believed in Santa. But the winter of 2003 was different. Harsh was 6 years old now. He demanded the proof of existence of Santa. No longer could he be placated with the story that Santa daddu brought all the goodies from distant North Pole riding on a sledge.

Seeing is believing. Being his dearest uncle I was entrusted with the duty of taking him to Santa. Many wise men and women suggested me shopping malls, restaurants and churches as probable places of Santa’s presence. Persons dressed up as Santa generally entertain little children in these places- they said. Now with this piece of information Harsh offered his help also. Every morning my cherub would scuttle pages of newspapers and Santa’s photo in any advertisement or news would herald Santa’s arrival to him which I had to take note of seriously. Why did these papers have Santa’s photos? To build a festive mood or attract children? Uff !!!

Anyway armed with this information Harsh and I embarked on the journey to find Santa on 25^th December evening in Kolkata (politically correct rechristened version of Calcutta). A visit to St.Paul’s cathedral and scenes of nativity therein did not show presence of Santa. With anxious nephew on tow I meandered through traffic filled roads of Kolkata to reach Park Street at 8’ o clock.  It was choc-a-bloc with revelers. But to Harsh it meant nothing.  Looking for Santa we reached Music World. The guard, to my nephew’s dismay, declared Santa was there but he left just now.  I was not prepared for what happened next. Harsh started crying and blaming me. A little child crying on the street can be a difficult proposition. This scene and my explanation thereafter attracted many sympathetic passersby who suggested that last resort of Santa may be shopping malls. We headed to Shopper’s Stop. It was 9.30 p.m. Santa was there in the morning. He has left in the evening. Harsh was furious. He would not budge a single inch. It was my entire fault and I had to pay the price by standing whole night in the December cold, declared harsh. Lot of coaxing and cajoling had us on the way to home. And voila! Our luck shined. Santa was there, in front of a restaurant. But spotting a real Santa Harsh became transfixed. When Santa said Hello and handed him a chocolate, Harsh was already speechless with awe. That white-bordered red velvet coat and white cotton beard of Santa bowled him over!

We did not walk back home; we flew. We soared on ecstasy; the ecstasy of seeing Santa brought wings to my nephew’s long cherished wish. On that day I realized the power of the sentence “Seeing is believing”. I shall never forget those twinkles in a little child’s eyes.