Sarcastic Santa writes to the average Mumbaikar

From Santa

North Pole

The last time I sent such a letter was some time back, way back in 1942 to a certain gentleman called M. K. Gandhi. The letter did play a major role although it never made it the history textbooks. I am sending this letter in the hope that what follows will be something similar.

Mumbai is a ruthless city, or so the inhabitants say. During one Christmas season, I was unfortunate enough to board a train from Ghatkopar during the peak hours. Surprisingly, I did well for a first-timer emerging out of the EMU at CST in one single unit. Of course my bones were squeezed for the next few days and my clothes reeked of sweat, and not at all of it was mine. The joyride did not end there as I went to urinate at the public urinal inside the place. Immediately, my nostrils were assaulted by the overpowering smell of ammonia. With closed eyes, I could have presumed it to be a school experiment gone wrong. But ruthless and thick-skinned as you are, even my eyes were not spared the agony of people relieving themselves with absolute indifference, nay uninhibited revelry in filth. In fact, my fellow Santa who was on his first visit to India was amazed at the blood coloured stream that people used to eject near corners. I tried to pass it off as the latest way of graffiti but 15 minutes later he had become one amongst you when he paid no attention to a brawl near a temple. And to think that some people found ‘Slumdog Millionaire’ too much to handle!

After the assault on my senses, came a redefinition of tolerance. In the aftermath of what you people called 26/11, I saw a lot of processions, panel discussions where everybody from Rakhi Sawant to Sreesanth had become ‘experts in the prevailing geopolitical tension’. But in the end, it all seemed a lot of hot air, and wasted time. As things stand today, Kasab is concocting tales more wondrous than Arabian Nights and it is being given a fair hearing by the judiciary. The surprise does not end there as we have established ourselves as the world leaders in promoting world peace. Therefore, I have seen a bald gentleman ‘condemn’ Pakistan in unintelligible English and another in ethnic wear trying to ‘bring the guilty to justice’. But then why do you blame them? After all, as a seventh grader should be able to say- The Government is by, for, and from the people. And how wonderfully have you helped the cause of democracy by staying at home on Election Day? My mood was greatly improved after watching a few news channels which had breathless anchors battling motormouth celebrities and asphyxiation at the same time, clearly providing unintended hilarity. Mumbai makes the boy into a man, and then makes him a eunuch, or what people call a ‘hijra’.

Mumbai is a wonderful place, a place where the rich share the same road with the nameless and socially invisible, albeit for different purposes. The rich use the road for parking their cars, while the poor use it to get a night’s sleep. And when, the ‘sons of the soil’ don’t get jobs, an upstart politician uses that to grind his own axe. And soon enough people follow him, while you the average Mumbaikar remain a silent spectator.

Perhaps you do not need any reminders for this. But like what happened decades ago, you need a revitalizing energy to see the rot, apathy and poison that has seeped into the veins of this city. And then, the change has to come, and come from within. As somebody famously said, a few sincere men and women can do more than in a year than a mob in a century. It is time you, the average Mumbaikar, seized the moment and began a journey that will change the face of this city forever.

With a heart full of hopes

Santa