The Art of Taking

Like most children who’ve lived on a steady diet of Enid Blytons, I too believed in Santa Claus when I was small. Weeks before Christmas I’d diligently write out a list of presents I hoped to get that year. (My mom had told me that I would get them only if I had been a good girl the whole year). This list was then hidden under my pillow and when it vanished I imagined Santa has been on his rounds to collect the post. Predictably, on the 25th I woke up to wonderful sight of presents, and a note from Santa. "You have been a good girl this year," read the note. And the fact that Santa’s handwriting was similar to my dad’s posed absolutely no doubts.

Years passed by and it had been a while since I’d dealt with the tragedy of knowing that Santa didn’t exist. But one day, Santa moved in next door.

The jolly figure of the merry man in red and white had taken on a new form: the form of an ordinary-looking yet pleasant woman. When she arrived with her husband and child, we gave them the curious look that all newcomers get. And to their smiles and hellos, we responded enthusiastically. And finally, over a period of months we got friendlier.

If I’m digressing too much, let me assure you that I’m coming to the part when I decided she was indeed Santa in disguise. Santa Claus to most of us represents someone who carries a big bag full of presents. Like him, our new neighbour was always handing out presents. Birthdays and anniversaries were never forgotten. Neither were special days such as Christmas and New Year. And she almost always brought some goodies to eat as well along with the present. So, understandably we got used to waiting for the presents that she took such care in selecting.

Once it was a wooden box filled with earrings, finger rings, clips, a fancy chain and some bangles. Another year she gave me picture frames. And the year I joined college, she gave me a little purse with gold fittings. Most often I didn’t like her presents, but then I’d been taught to appreciate the thought behind the gift rather than the gift itself. My brother also got gifts ranging from belts to fancy pen holders, while my parents got anything from crockery to picture frames to ceramic pottery. And during Christmas, she came with homemade cake (fruit cake and plain cake), sweets and mixture. And she always came in, gave the presents and ran back into her house.

I guess I felt that like Santa she came to give the presents unnoticed and vanished before we had time to think. So like all well-mannered children (ahem), we would knock at her door minutes later and thank her for the presents. As fake as it sounded, year after year we repeated, "This is exactly what I wanted. You read my mind, Aunty. Thank you."

She was also a very gracious hostess. She made much of those visits and showered us with things to eat and carried on unending conversations with us. And even when we moved to another area, she continued visiting us on those special occasions with more presents and goodies.

And it was then that I noticed a flaw in this feminine version of Santa Claus who simply loved giving. She gave us presents, she gave her servants food in plenty and donated a lot to the church. But she wasn’t a gracious receiver.

Like her, many of us grow up believing it's good to give. We are encouraged to give to charities, we are encouraged to give generously to the needy, but we always forget that it gives someone a lot of pleasure when we receive graciously. For instance, when my watchman’s son got married, he went around inviting everyone. Everyone in the apartment handed out money as presents. The money was no doubt important for him, but he was a lot more thrilled when my parents attended the wedding and even took part in the feast. Similarly, when a cousin got married the whole family got together and got her expensive presents that would come in handy. But her servant also got her a small present that was much appreciated. And in return for that, we saw the happiness on the servant’s face.

Santa junior wasn’t half as good at receiving presents. And not because she was wealthy and had it all, but because she was more comfortable giving. So even when she made those occasional visits home, she would nibble at a cookie (that we’d have practically begged her to take) for a long time. And when she was invited for breakfast, with great difficulty she managed to eat an idli. I used to find this terribly annoying. The presents we gave got polite 'thank yous' as well, but it wasn’t met with the enthusiasm that we would have liked to see.

A few more years have gone by now. And now, she makes those yearly visits only during Christmas, when she rushes in with things to eat and runs out before we can offer her tea or something to eat. But then I guess we are quite used to it. But now we are only too aware that as important as it is to give generously, it’s also important to take graciously. If giving brings happiness to the receiver, receiving also brings happiness to the giver!