Santa Claus looked at himself in the mirror. What he saw was a horizontally- challenged man in a red night suit. Enough is enough, he swore, his new year resolution, no more carbs at night. As it is he was finding it tough shimmying down chimneys. This was going to be a vital year — he’d set himself the task of spreading good cheer in the ‘difficult countries’. Russia and China he was certain would accept him, given their flags were red. Pakistan he would bypass. But modern India was the final frontier. He considered wearing black for its slimming quality. But Google politely informed him that black was what women of Islam wore. Plus they covered their faces. He was a fat Christian man, he certainly didn’t want to be mistaken for a rotund Muslim lady, however slimming black was. And if he hid his face, how would the kids know who he was.

His all-knowing brother Banta Claus said to him, “How in heaven’s name are you going to India, bro? I hear they’re turning 100 per cent Hindi. They’ll never accept you.”