Our Parents, Our Santas for life!

Childhood is a treasure trove of memories- sweet, simple, innocent, naughty at times, happy and contented! The times when we had no worries in the world, when life was indeed a bed of roses, when tragedy was getting one chocolate less than our sibling, when catastrophe meant poor marks in Maths and the rest didn't matter. The times when the world was our oyster !

Studying in a convent school meant Christmas was a huge event. The carols, the decorations, the programs by the tiny tots, Jesus and Mary stories depicted by little Santas was all very engaging and endearing. The two weeks long winter vacation or Christmas holidays as we called them meant having a blast ! The best part on Christmas Eve was writing a letter to Santa and expecting gifts the next day. The gifts that never came! 

My mother could never understand this ritual of yearly visits by Santa Claus even though she indulged us and got us a Christmas cake and gifts on that day. But we were clear, it was our mum who played our Santa. No one pulled a wool over our eyes and hoodwinked us that the portly, rolypoly guy wearing red and white cloak and snowlike beard got us our goodies from North Pole. 

Did we mind?

 Maybe at times we felt deprived of the thrill and mystique of the Santa descending upon our humble abode carrying his magic bag but what made up for us was the fact that we had our Santa the whole year round and not on just one particular day.

When I had my first child, I kept the mystery of Santa Claus for him till he was five years old. Each year he would write a letter to Santa usually asking for sweet, little gifts but at times the requests were made for exorbitant gifts like PlayStation or remote control helicopters. Asking him to tone down his 'unreasonable' demands meant a lot of heartbreak for him and a huge relief for us. 

What I didn't bargain for was how smart the present day generation is! Just when I thought he was old enough to be told the truth about Santa, he let the cat of the bag. He knew it was me and not some quaint creature from a far off continent who gave him xmas gifts every year. Was I pleasantly surprised or deflated by this revelation I can't remember but I do recall him and I colluding to maintain this myth when my second child was born.

A massive tiff between the two led to my elder one revealing this secret to his younger sibling one day and seeing his crestfallen face I rushed to console my little one who was crying copiously by now. Before I could chastise the elder one for his harsh outburst I heard the younger one say , "Mummy is my Santa forever". Joy, pride and gratitude filled me hearing this innocent statement and finally it dawned; our parents are our Santas whole our lives!

Our parents automatically adopt the 'giver' role and play our Santas. And we needn't write a wish list to them. They instinctively know our wants and desires and try their level best to provide us those. Similarly we assume the Santa role for our kids. The process of loving and giving is not a 'one day a year' routine obligation but continues unabated till eternity. 
Let's treasure the Santas in our lives and spread joy all around.

Merry Christmas!!

 

The Archies movie- nostalgia meets nepotism

The Archies- Sugary, mushy, curated to perfection, brewed to elitist taste flick. It possesses an old world charm despite its under-whelming, under-performing young crop of actors. The nepo kids have very big shoes to fill and fail abysmally. One wishes Zoya Akhtar had chosen newbies with talent over the ones with lineage.

If we move the critical lens away from the overshadowing nepotism debate, this rendition of the iconic comic book characters does have its moments, notably with Agastya Nanda’s promising performance in the titular role. However, the weight of legacy seems to burden the young actors, particularly Khushi and Suhana, as they struggle to embody their characters convincingly.  

Reggie is portrayed as more virtuous than his original persona, Jughead's gluttony seems forced and the rest are all passable; Goodfellas with their hearts in good place, bonding against the force threatening their sacrosanct Riverdale, picturesque with exceptionally built sets.

 The film opts for a safe route, lacking the thrill or audacity to push boundaries, yet the essence of the beloved Archies universe remains intact, adorned with love, romance, songs, and dances, creating an endearingly nostalgic experience. 

 Appreciating it is easier when viewed independently, detached from the colossal standards set by the original Archies series. Despite the misgivings and the subpar performances, it manages to carve its own space as a light, enjoyable watch.