Reality Bites: What Santa may bring for Dear Leader & Co. My wish list

The Dear Leader does not like Christmas. He tried to rename it Good Governance Day in 2014, but failed, ho ho ho! Nevertheless, he and his blubbering walrus boss in Nagpur are trying very hard to turn jolly, generous Santa into a violent, bigoted, and mean-spirited Fanta. Even a meeting with Pope Francis did not turn the Dear Leader into a better human being, which is why I don’t believe in miracles.

In fact, the Dear Leader and his walrus boss have kicked off a competition between BJP-misgoverned Karnataka, Uttarakhand and Madhya Pradesh to attack priests and parishioners, destroy churches, etc. In short, they intend to do to Christians what they are doing to Muslims in India, and they’re dancing with joy because no one, not even “secular” parties, are stopping them!

Indian citizens (regardless of personal faith) should stand up for each other, and fight back. However, since this is the season of joy, let’s try to woo the Sangh Parivar into appreciating diversity by giving them presents.

What can we give the Dear Leader’s walrus boss who is trying very, very hard to take 21st century India back to the dark ages? A one-way time machine trip into Amar Chitra Katha Comic Book Land would be the perfect gift I think, but time machines haven’t been invented yet.

So, as he worships Hitler to bits, how about a lovely, cosy, bed-time book on Hitler’s final hours? Or, since he’s as ignorant about DNA as he is about everything else, Tony Joseph’s book would be a good idea: ‘Early Indians: The Story of Our Ancestors and Where We Came From’. It is our duty to help ignorant shakha-educated people get a real education, innit?

And what’s in Santa’s bag for the Dear Leader? I’m sure Santa is aware that this chap just has to snap his fingers and sycophantic ministers like Hardeep Singh Puri will get him anything he wants from public funds, including planes and houses. Let’s give him a good book too, with words instead of pictures for a change.

I recommend ‘Losing Belly Fat’ by Amber Rain. See, we know how he loves to dress up, but he looks Danny De Vito clownish instead of kingly and impressive. I absolutely cannot forget that horrific picture of him diving into a river and emerging with what looked like a beach ball under his soggy clinging tee.

The best present for his henchman, Omit Sour, would be a road trip from Marine Drive to Goregaon West during Ganpati without a porta-potty. That may make him stop whining about traffic jams on Fridays and only Fridays. Why, he may even be inspired to stop his Grrgaon goons from preventing namaz!

Santa could also ask Hardeep Singh Puri to create the replica of an AIIMs hospital in Mr Sour’s home—who can forget how Mr Sour hogged an entire floor of AIIMs for himself when the Covid pandemic was at its height, and people were begging for hospital beds?

Oh, Santa should add family packs of tissues too, because Mr Sour has this habit of digging for gold in his nostrils. There are many videos of him in action, I’m sure Santa has seen a few. Remember, gifts must be thoughtful too.

Smriti Irani, union minister for women and child development deserves something very special. After a good think, I’ve decided that Santa should give her a pretty wooden box with ornate carving. Whenever she opens the lid, a gloved hand springs out and boxes her in the face. This was inspired by something she had recently tweeted: “When I was a kid, they didn’t take me to a psychologist… My mom was able to open my chakra, stabilise my karma and clean my aura with one single slap.”

Psychologists and psychiatrists who may have more, erm, powerful suggestions are free to write to Santa at his workshop. The address: 123 Elf Road, North Pole, 88888.

Hardeep Singh Puri is terribly easy to choose presents for. Little Dear Leader dolls always make him ecstatic. Santa should upgrade this to a Dear Leader walkie-talkie doll that issues instructions like “Jump!” every few minutes. That would be good for his blood circulation, and, if the blood eventually reaches his brain, he may realise how utterly foolish sycophancy makes him look.

(Any resemblance to real people or events is a coincidence)