Christmas is almost upon us. So I’ll cut to the chase. When you ask, ‘Have you been a good or bad boy/girl this year?’ what exactly are you getting at?
Apart from sounding downright creepy, are you trying to get us all to fall in line in some toys-filled boot camp? Or worse, value judging us, a value judgment that has been called out not just by Jeff Bezos recently when he stopped The Washington Post from endorsing a good presidential candidate and renouncing a bad presidential candidate, but also by Denmark’s Rahul Gandhi, Hamlet, long back when he rightly said, ‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ Your binary thinking – both in terms of ‘good and bad’, as well as ‘boy and girl’ – makes me deeply uncomfortable. Your gifts sound like bribes. Or worse, CSR with its usual hidden motives.
Incidentally, if you think about it, it’s Bezos, not you, who’s the real Deliverer of Gifts. And I’m happy to pay for his non-judgmental approach to consumer retail. Speaking of judgment, I do sincerely hope that your helpers are elves and not what sounds like a horrid Harrods euphemism.
A single, White, senior citizen, associated however vaguely with the Catholic church, living by his own with reindeer in a remote spot does not inspire confidence about the age-appropriateness of ‘Santa’s little helpers’. It spells Nordic noir of the most queasy kind.
Comedian Diane Morgan, as Philomena Cunk, the faux-documentary TV commentator on history, culture and current affairs, in a 2016 Christmas special, ‘Moments of Wonder,’ astutely said in a sequence about you: ‘Like Jesus, Father Christmas was used as a bribe for children to behave. Although in his case, the prize wasn’t eternal salvation, but presents. No wonder the moment Santa came on the scene, it was game over for Jesus. He had to accept a lower-ranking job in the global icon industry.’ I have no problem with you singlehandedly secularising the Christian festival of Christmas. In fact, I applaud you being a prime force in the rise of atheism in the Western world. Between an Xbox in a sock and gifts of the magi, I certainly know which one to swipe right. Turning a sombre holy occasion to a full-blown boozy birthday party is impressive. Not to mention, make movies as disparate as Love Actually and Die Hard come out as ‘Christmas releases’. Your ‘(Rambha) ho-ho-ho!’ shamanic appeal has allowed the non-Christian ‘global south’ to appropriate a day that purportedly celebrates the birthday of a Jewish West Asian guy who founded a new religion and somewhere down the line turned into a White hippie dude. For this, good job, Santa. As far as brand-building across demographics goes, Donald Trump, eat your heart out.
But coming back to your bothersome bits, what’s with your look? An overweight man in a white-trimmed red jacket and pajama-type trousers with a broad buckled belt, matching hat, and black boots – was your intent to amplify body-shaming? Standing inside malls and outside shops in the flesh or as cut-outs hardly makes you more inviting than breaking into people’s homes by coming down chimneys – that thankfully only exist in Western homes and movies.
True, as a pre-bellyful of canned mirth, your brand was too diluted. As the gaunt St Nicholas, you were too many things to too many people: patron saint of repentant thieves, sailors, merchants, brewers, pawnbrokers, toymakers, unmarried people… and children. That’s like ITC producing cigarettes, nicotine patches, frozen food, hotels, clothes… As Santa Claus, you became the patron saint of retail. That is, before St Jeff of Amazon made it more soul-satisfying.
But Santa, being the King of Good Times for the Little People is past its sell-by date, no? Posing with kids, clanging a ghanta while randomly greeting people ‘Merry Christmas!’ and uttering ‘Ho, ho, ho’ to female passersby would have got anyone else arrested. Frankly, I’d prefer someone more real, more relatable, less boomer than you. Which is why, Santa, I’ve written to Banta to do the honours from next year. Even his jokes are better.
Chill out,
Indrajit
10 (+43) years
