A tug on my arm. The smile of the street urchin, his arms outstretched. Traffic, smoke, heat, footpath vendors, beggars, honking of cars, confusion and an endless mass of humanity headed in the same direction. Yes, if you are guessing, it is Mori Road again. It is Wednesday, the day of Navina (the concept being that if you go to Mahim church for nine consecutive Wednesdays you get what you wish for) and it is also Christmas! Everyone is headed to the Church down the road.
For years, I had not visited the Church down my lane though it is considered to be one of the most sacred places in Mumbai. But this year I deferred to the wishes of my wife, and so on Christmas morning instead of my customary practice of lazing about and dreaming of turkey and chicken, I was very much on my way to church. I fished for a coin in my pocket, almost toppled over with someone pushing me and then lost sight of the outstretched hand. All in a flash. My wife stopped to buy candles and flowers while I hopped, skipped and jumped across all the confusion and at last found myself at the gate of the church.
There was a long winding queue to the altar and we took our place. I paused to get my breath back, while my wife seemed as calm and composed as ever. The church choir began hymns in praise of the Lord seemed to settle life down a bit. I looked around. It was quite a colourful queue and the festive mood was very evident. As time passed, the confusion on the street outside waned away and I became quite oblivious of my surroundings. I was thinking of the year that went by. Collages of people, places and happennings.
A hand on my shoulder shook me out of my stupor. The Sardarji behind motioned me to step ahead as the line had moved on. Till now I had not noticed him. I stepped ahead hurriedly to catch up. I turned back and he smiled. He was a big man with a long flowing white beard and red turban. His face was creased with age but he stood tall. "Long line" he said. And we struck up a conversation. He was from Patiala, and was a cab driver in Mumbai. He had lived most of his life in Mumbai from the age of fifteen and spoke four languages including a litte bit of English. So as the line inched ahead, I stepped through the life and times of Sardarsaab, ignoring the inquisitive glances my wife kept throwing back at me. He had lived a fulfilling life, married off two daughters, had a son who had his own garage and they lived in Malad. In our exchange I told him that we were married this year and he winked at me and said "First Christmas?". I smiled in confirmation.
My curiosity by now got the better of me and I had to ask him. He was the only Sardar in the church. So I asked "Do you come here often?". Again that smile that stretched the creases on his forehead even more. He only came here every Christmas and had been doing this since the time children in his neighbourhood insisted on taking him for Santa Claus. Every Christmas it was his ritual to get dressed as Santa and spend the evening distributing goodies to the children. But he felt to do it with all his heart and be the real Santa he needed Lord Jesus to bless him. So he was here every year. Then he reacheed inside his pocket and pressed some candies into my hand. "Merry Christmas Mr Sen" he said. We had almost reached the altar. I lost track of him as I refocussed my attention to stay in step with my wife.
That evening we had a great dinner cooking at home. I lay back on my couch as the aroma of prawns swirled across my nostrils churining up a good appetite. We had a great dinner. My wife retired as I lazed about watching some TV. Star TV was doing the recap for the year - Parliament attack, Narendra Modi, Gujrat elections, celebreity scandals and the works. I was getting bored and prepared to retire too. My eyes then fell on the two peices of Candy that the Sardar had pressed into my palms. I opened and ate one of them. Well, he must be dancing and playing Santa to the kids in his neighbourhood by now. As the sugar candy melted in my mouth, I imagined that he would have made the perfect Santa with his big frame and long flowing beard. I looked at the other piece of candy. I tucked into my pocket for the night. When I was a kid my stockings used to be full of such candies. I would still love to beleive in Santa Claus. Who knows, he may have been standing in line behind me today. And don't you laugh!
Hope you guys have Santa tapping on your back and filling you with loads of fun in the year to come. As for me, I am going to church every Christmas from now. The two candies are worth it. Beleive me !!
For years, I had not visited the Church down my lane though it is considered to be one of the most sacred places in Mumbai. But this year I deferred to the wishes of my wife, and so on Christmas morning instead of my customary practice of lazing about and dreaming of turkey and chicken, I was very much on my way to church. I fished for a coin in my pocket, almost toppled over with someone pushing me and then lost sight of the outstretched hand. All in a flash. My wife stopped to buy candles and flowers while I hopped, skipped and jumped across all the confusion and at last found myself at the gate of the church.
There was a long winding queue to the altar and we took our place. I paused to get my breath back, while my wife seemed as calm and composed as ever. The church choir began hymns in praise of the Lord seemed to settle life down a bit. I looked around. It was quite a colourful queue and the festive mood was very evident. As time passed, the confusion on the street outside waned away and I became quite oblivious of my surroundings. I was thinking of the year that went by. Collages of people, places and happennings.
A hand on my shoulder shook me out of my stupor. The Sardarji behind motioned me to step ahead as the line had moved on. Till now I had not noticed him. I stepped ahead hurriedly to catch up. I turned back and he smiled. He was a big man with a long flowing white beard and red turban. His face was creased with age but he stood tall. "Long line" he said. And we struck up a conversation. He was from Patiala, and was a cab driver in Mumbai. He had lived most of his life in Mumbai from the age of fifteen and spoke four languages including a litte bit of English. So as the line inched ahead, I stepped through the life and times of Sardarsaab, ignoring the inquisitive glances my wife kept throwing back at me. He had lived a fulfilling life, married off two daughters, had a son who had his own garage and they lived in Malad. In our exchange I told him that we were married this year and he winked at me and said "First Christmas?". I smiled in confirmation.
My curiosity by now got the better of me and I had to ask him. He was the only Sardar in the church. So I asked "Do you come here often?". Again that smile that stretched the creases on his forehead even more. He only came here every Christmas and had been doing this since the time children in his neighbourhood insisted on taking him for Santa Claus. Every Christmas it was his ritual to get dressed as Santa and spend the evening distributing goodies to the children. But he felt to do it with all his heart and be the real Santa he needed Lord Jesus to bless him. So he was here every year. Then he reacheed inside his pocket and pressed some candies into my hand. "Merry Christmas Mr Sen" he said. We had almost reached the altar. I lost track of him as I refocussed my attention to stay in step with my wife.
That evening we had a great dinner cooking at home. I lay back on my couch as the aroma of prawns swirled across my nostrils churining up a good appetite. We had a great dinner. My wife retired as I lazed about watching some TV. Star TV was doing the recap for the year - Parliament attack, Narendra Modi, Gujrat elections, celebreity scandals and the works. I was getting bored and prepared to retire too. My eyes then fell on the two peices of Candy that the Sardar had pressed into my palms. I opened and ate one of them. Well, he must be dancing and playing Santa to the kids in his neighbourhood by now. As the sugar candy melted in my mouth, I imagined that he would have made the perfect Santa with his big frame and long flowing beard. I looked at the other piece of candy. I tucked into my pocket for the night. When I was a kid my stockings used to be full of such candies. I would still love to beleive in Santa Claus. Who knows, he may have been standing in line behind me today. And don't you laugh!
Hope you guys have Santa tapping on your back and filling you with loads of fun in the year to come. As for me, I am going to church every Christmas from now. The two candies are worth it. Beleive me !!
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