Kaleidoscope

​Growing up in Bombay (now Mumbai), we celebrated every festival with equal fervor, regardless of religion. Yet, Christmas always held a special place.
​I was about five or six years old when I first fell under the spell of Santa Claus. My school teachers had hyped up his generosity, and I began dreaming of all the gifts I would receive. I went into the Christmas break buzzing with happy anticipation.
​On Christmas Eve, following the “instructions” from my teachers, I insisted on keeping all the windows open so Santa could enter. My parents were flummoxed, shuddering at the prospect of mosquitoes barging in, but I stood my ground. I even arranged a pillow perfectly, as I had heard Santa sometimes tucked gifts underneath it.
​I had a tough time falling asleep that night. When I finally woke the next morning, I launched a frantic search—checking under the pillow, under the bed, everywhere.
​Alas, there was nothing. I was dejected, disappointed, and heartbroken.
​The rest of my Christmas break was fun but clouded by that empty morning. I decided I would confront my teacher about the missing gift as soon as school reopened.
​On the first day back, I ran into Ms. Leslie, my English teacher. Seeing my long face, she asked what was wrong. I poured out my agony and narrated the pain of waiting for a Santa who never showed up.
​She looked at me, smiled gently, and said, “You know what, Jaffer? Santa did come with a gift. However, he wasn’t able to find your house, so he handed it to me for safekeeping. I will bring it to you tomorrow.”
​The next day, she handed me a neatly wrapped book. The inscription read: With love, Father Christmas.
​Every Christmas, I am reminded of that simple act of kindness. Thank you, Ms. Leslie, for your love and kindness
​There are many children in this world who deserve the kindness of a Ms. Leslie. I hope my story inspires you to be that person for a child—to be a Ms. Leslie, or a Father Christmas, and give hope to children around the world.
​Lots of love,
Jaffer Khan