Christmas is wonderful. Christmas is perfect. For the “SantaClauswillbringme” ages.
Because anyone above that age lives under the threat of the global conspiracy, with the code name “Christmas holidays”. We all know that everyone hate their guts with this story. But as if a deadly menace is hanging over our heads, no one will ever admit it. We do all the appropriate shopping, and all that red decoration, we cook as if there is no tomorrow, we generously give away smiles, and wishes and “oh-we-are-so-happy” looks. As if someone from above checks our Christmas mood level, and no one would ever like to be found with a Christmas mood below the generally accepted limit.
I know no living creature being brave enough to refuse to buy the slightest gift, to eat fish instead of turkey or other fleshes slowly cooked in absolute harmony with mushrooms of a nominal value standing at 25€/50 g. And all that because the day is special. The day is special only to the guy who pocketed 25 € for selling three funguses! This Christmas holiday thing equals to violation of human rights and should be seriously checked by the competent authorities. At both national and international level.
I’m escaping Christmas bringing to my eyes images of the world at this very moment. A Buddhist monk, no more than 12 years old, is shaving his head at Angkor, Cambodia. He does it skillfully, almost ritually, and I’m impressed that he uses no mirror. - A young woman helps her husband aligning multi-colored processed leathers. The leathers must stay under the sunshine for a while before finding their way to the bazaar of the town of Fez, Morocco. A heavy smell is in the air. – A barefoot bunch of children is chasing a ball in the pastel streets of Puerto Limon, Costa Rica. – A cormorant and his owner are having some rest at the banks of Lee river, near Yangshuo, China, after a long day of fishing. These cormorants-fishers are precious in China. A ring obstructs their throat making impossible to swallow the fishes and thus they deliver them to their owners. – The fountains and artificial lakes behind India Gate, New Delhi are crowded with boys and girls having the time of their life as they play with the dirty water. There is even a band playing!
It’s comforting to know that the world is still spinning around. It is comforting to know that the world will go on spinning around. That our personal highlights and dramas are not so important after all. And Christmas is not special because someone named Christ was born. There is no such thing as Christ and there is surely no such thing as virgin mother. You can say that Christmas is special because lots of us have extra free time. And this is good.
I will keep a sense of melancholy for the days. I will remain un-glamour and bleary. I will keep in my mind the people whose only reason to celebrate is that they made it through one more day. Santa Claus is a fat man in his middle age crisis, with serious problems of regression to childhood, and allow me to say, with a very suspicious attitude with his wanting to take all children to his lap. I will decorate my balcony with a hung Santa. With sparkling lights around the rope. I will let the passengers wonder: Was it suicide or murder?
