Santa's still in town

A SHARED SLICE RENÉE RANCHAN Can declare, yes declare, with cast-iron certainty that Christmas is close to my heart, my all-time favourite day of the year.

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As a child, a night before going out to pick a tree, would find me peering out of my room's window every few minutes, hoping that the moon was on its way out, and the bright gleam of the morning had spread across. Yet of course, it was a long wait, and a little past twelvish it would still be a starry night, with my eyes gone droopy with sleep...I'd think it was around that time when I would curl back into my bed the headrest and the footboard painted a sunflower yellow by my Mumand fall into a deep sleep. Of course, day would eventually break, and while gently woken up by my mother, I'd dash off to take the quickest bath ever, and have my boots all laced up in feet that were quite wet. Bringing home, a Christmas tree, the delight most unexplainable. The scent of pine made the house feel like a forest, and decorating it, akin to a trip to Disneyland. The precious pines circled with twinkling lights and all sorts of baubles and finally the star atop, its crowning glory. At the backdrop, there would be carols and stuffed stockings hung over the mantlepiece, and milk would now be poured into glasses painted with bright fireplaces. Milk, too, would taste good. I would think that the tumblers had changed its flavour and yes, there were colourful marshmallows- powder pink, cloud white, ashes of roses. Poked in skewers and toasted over a bonfire in our small patio. Yes, Christmas synonymous with magic! Not going to continue spooling out the excitement churning in my tummy at the sight of brightly wrapped gift boxes, sitting proudly, knowing how with an eager rush, they'd be unwrapped, to be cherished by apple-cheeked children and gray-haired grandparents with the same zest; not to forget the sandwichgeneration, that too, would break into a dance! I