It would easily
have been the fifteenth time since morning and almost two score times since
last evening that Mrs. Robert had checked the letterbox. Additionally, there
would not have been a moment spent since, when she had not been thinking of it.
Even the slightest noise of the cat outside made Mrs. Robert jump up and look
out of the window with anticipation. Snail mail, after all, was her only
connect with her son now. Occasional letters from him, far East in the cavalry
wing were just one of the two reasons she attributed her existence to. And as
he had not written in almost a month and a half, a letter from him was anything
but due. But then there was a war underway. Who knew what might be happening or
what might have happened. Life isn’t as easy as it seems.
The second thing
that lit her solitary life atop an almost desolate hill was her yearly
Christmas Eve escapade. Today happened to be the silver jubilee of the task she
has so fondly and arduously taken upon herself year on year. Wearing the Santa
Claus outfit, carrying a sack full of hand knitted sweaters, muffs, gloves,
socks and so on and distributing them among the less fortunate children, on
this one day of the year, required yearlong planning, efforts of everyday and
provided satisfaction unmatchable. 26 December to 2January was her annual
‘vacation’. As soon as the New Year began, she would set upon her knitting once
again. The warmth of smiles of the little recipients of her handiwork lingered
on in her heart the whole year round and kindled up in her, just enough
pleasure to go on and ready another garment, till she realized it was Christmas
time all over again and that her sack was already brimming. She had been doing
all this for 25 whole years, although in the initial 13-14 years, the
distributable wares were mostly bought from the market, when she had little
prowess in knitting and little time left after nursing her husband, an ailing
hero of a glorious war of long ago.
***
She remembered
the day her son had announced that he had planned to take after his dad and
join the defense forces. Till date she had not been able to make up her mind on
whether it was happy news or not. A mother’s heart could be felt screeching and
heard shaking each time a letter with the East Cavalry Division postmark landed
in her hands, even after his having joined service almost a decade ago. Her
heartbeat could be heard 2 miles away. The same heart swelled with pride each
time someone praised anything having anything to do with defense forces or when
he wrote about his latest accomplishment or his new promotion. But why hadn’t
he written for so long? What if… no nothing. He must have been busy, that’s it.
Or was he? But there was a war. Correspondence may not be permissible. Then
there was always a case of lost in transit. But what if..? The enemy was
strong. No no, not Nicholas. Not him. The letter would come. It will come when
it will come. Oh, but didn’t Shakespeare use this phrase in context of death.
Oh NO NONO… all was well all was well. The postman was on leave maybe. It had
been snowing off and on. But…No.. Ah! The storm in her cranium failed to calm
down.
***
It was getting dark and it was time once
again, the twenty-fifth time, to adorn the Santa Clause attire. It was time
this puzzled and stressed soul, distributed love, hope and joy.
With a big green
sack on one shoulder, this red clad lady, oops..man with a big grey beard
strode onto the street. As (s)he set aside her worries for the time,
overwhelmed by the task at hand, she marveled at how each and every little
strand of wool, every piece of the clothing that her sack contained has passed
between her nimble fingers and how each garment contained within itself a
story, a saga of joy, a tale of love, a will to spread happiness, a mirror of
mountain loads of emotion. She pictured the small toothless smile a toddler
would give her when she would enter the orphanage and present him with the
little bonnet she had made. That smile would be all the nutrition she would
require till the next X-mas. Or will it be..?
Walking along
the narrow path downhill, she had a flashback of all the years she had spent.
Money was never a constraint. Her husband had left behind loads and Nicholas
earned just well enough. She had her own little land under the sun. Food was
ample. Time was ample. And so was her spirit.
A little white
snowflake settled on her bright red sleeve. Did someone say white? Nicholas’s
envelope would also be white. Oh! When would it come, a drop of elixir for this
desperate soul?
***
Santa presented
his wares to the kids. The little baby in the cradle got yellow mittens. He put
a knitted blanket over the sleeping angle lookalike. The cardigan with a panda
motif went to the tattered shirt boy. The green bonnet went to a girl named
Tia. For Santa, it was like reliving the best moment of life, for the
twenty-fifth time. The sweet feeling called ecstasy engulfed Mrs. Robert, the
Santa Claus of the day. It was acknowledgeable that this feeling wasn’t easy to
let go. On its own it would never wear off. It was almost the reason Mrs.
Robert was alive.
With sack empty
and heart full, and after a teary and heart wrenching farewell, Mrs. Robert
ascended up the hill to her tiny abode that nestled near the top, betwixt a
cluster of tall Deodars.
As she neared
her home, as the Santa of the day inched closer home, the heavy bag of
anticipation that had just been left behind on the way down, slowly started
settling back in position. Each step forward meant a new prayer and a galaxy
full of hope.
A strange fear
was beginning to reside in her mind. The puzzle and anxiety were quietly
reinstated. The lightness of the heart by the evening’s delightful proceedings
was pulling her mind upwards but a heavy stone like thing was pulling it
downwards. She wished there was a Santa for her too. She, for the first time in
her life, wished for technology.
***
Santa unlocked the door and changed back into Mrs. Roberts. She
folded the red attire, which would only be reopened next year, if she continued
to exist on the face of the earth. She picked up her green sack to put it in
her cupboard where it would gradually be filled again. As she picked it up from
her rocking chair where she had placed it after entering, something fell on the
wooden flooring. Something small but heavy. It was a white envelope with a
familiar postmark. A heart could be felt screeching and heard shaking. The
puzzle was at its zenith.
JUDGE’S VIEWS:
Renee : What an engaging tale about a female Santa – a refreshing
look at the old holiday story. Your
first paragraph very effectively draws the reader into the mystery of what
happened to Mrs. Roberts’ son. You
effectively used a strong metaphor of a hill to describe Mrs. Roberts’
life. Your descriptions are excellent
and help the reader to visualize your scenes.
I also like how you leave the reader satisfied in the knowledge that
Mrs. Roberts received a letter from her son, Nicholas. Could this be the same Nicholas who became
St. Nicholas and took over his mother’s duties?
What a fun premise! To improve
this story, try to eliminate the linking verbs (am, is are, was, were, be,
being, been) that create passive voice and poor description. For example, A strange fear was beginning to reside in her mind is not as strong
as this without the linking verb: A
strange fear began to reside in her mind.
When expanded, this story has the potential of becoming a wonderful
novel!
Sandhya : An excellent and absolutely riveting piece of writing. Loved the many layers in this story. The female Santa, the worry for a son far away in combat, the yearning for news of him, the spirit of giving that keeps her going despite the loneliness, the wish for a Santa for herself. Also the creation of the atmosphere in which the story is set – this was magic with words. Also, the end of the story has so much left unsaid. Very effective.
Very well written. Do continue writing, and of course, reading.
Neha : Very well written and very engaging. The beginning and the
conclusion are very dramatic. I liked the open ended conclusion which leaves
the reader thinking.
It has a beautiful premise, a very well structured plot and a
definite story line emphasizing only a short time and a single incident.
Tightly knit, the story keeps the reader on tenterhooks just like the
protagonist herself is: a very well achieved effect.
No notable errors and good use of language is commendable. There are
a few punctuation errors though. Also the inner dialogue should have been
enclosed in inverted commas.
This is decidedly the best attempt in this section.
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