Christmas is the busiest time of his year. But on Easter, when December's red letter day is far away, Santa likes to put his feet up. Rishad Saam Mehta comes away with the evidence after grilling Santa over why his Christmas wish didn't come true
Christmas is the busiest time of his year. But on Easter, when December's red letter day is far away, Santa likes to put his feet up. Rishad Saam Mehta comes away with the evidence after grilling Santa over why his Christmas wish didn't come true
I had been extremely good last year. I'd met deadlines, donated to charity and restricted my driving abuses to "silly fool" and "idiot aadmi". I'd dropped my litter in a bin, refused plastic bags and hadn't honked at the car ahead when the signal light was still red.
Yet when I opened my garage on Christmas Day, it was empty. There was no AC Cobra 427. I had sincerely asked Santa Claus for the meanest and sexiest sports car of the sixties and Santa had not delivered.
"What theu2026" the bad boy in me almost expressed himself.
So this Spring, when Finnair had some good deals going, I decided to fly to the Finnish city of Rovaniemi in the Arctic Circle and catch up with Santa for Easter. 
The jolly man's main post office is just a few kilometres from the Rovaniemi town centre and this is where Santa meets guests. So I got together some more like-minded people. Amongst them there was P K Mare who immediately equated Finland to Finlandia Vodka and became party to the plan. Then there was Persperius Paaniwalla very aptly named because he would melt a little everyday during the Mumbai summer which had already started by mid February this year. All I had to do is tell him that the mercury was still hovering at 12 degrees C in Rovaniemi and he was already downloading the Schengen visa form with one hand and wiping his brow with the other.
"So what do you think Santa does for Easter," I asked Marita, the blue-eyed air hostess on the flight to Helsinki as she put down a tall glass of Bailey's on ice on my table.
"If I were him I'd be holidaying in Phuket," she replied, with a twinkle in her eye. "I am sure there are times when Santa feels the urge to get out of the snow, put on some togs, get a tan, eye a few sun bathing beauties and go VA VA VOOM! Ho ho ho, all the time can get a little boring you know".
She also told me that she'd once been awarded first runner-up place in a beauty pageant at Rovaniemi.
"And, thank God for that because the winner was obliged to ask Santa for world peace, whereas I could ask him for a rich husband and a country estate."
"Both have been delivered since then" she added with a wink.
Rovaniemi is an hour's flight north from Helsinki and is the administrative capital of Finland's Lapland province. Since the Arctic circle line passes through the town you can imagine that winters can go down to -40 degrees C.
When we stepped out at the airport, the first thing I felt was the moisture in my breath freezing in my throat because it was -8 degrees. My clothes went cold as if the warmth had been instantly sucked out of them. Yet the worst of the cold had passed because now it was spring
While there yet was snow on the ground and ice on the rivers and lakes, the locals had a bounce in their step.
The sun had popped over the horizon after months of darkness and the birds were already singing.u00a0 Soon spring would give way to summer, the snow would melt, flowers would bloom and the temperature would rise.
Marko, our 19 year old guide from Lapland Safaris in Rovaniemi assured us that by next morning we would get a little used to the cold and that the gear supplied would keep us warm.
And he was right. Though putting on the gear, which consisted of woollen socks, cold weather boots, and a thick zip-up overall was an effort, once clad, it was ideal for the outdoors.
It was a beautiful day with the sun shining in a deep blue sky with a few scattered clouds. The Kemijoki River was frozen solid and the landscape was still mostly white. Marko led us towards our transportation which consisted of spanking new snowmobiles ideal for travelling over snow laden paths and frozen waterways.
As the engines roared to life, Marko could see the speed lust rise in everyone's eyes and hurriedly explained that there would be no racing and everyone would follow him in a single file. But that was exciting enough because Marko set a pace that was quite quick and those skidoos were soon skimming over the ice. Because the drive is from the rear, at times there was need to lean out and help the skidoos turn. The thrill was adrenaline inducing. PK was high only on speed, Persperius was having his first dry day in months thanks to the -5 degree cold and I was feeling like John Mclain in the snowmobile chase in Die Hard 2 as Marko had us jumping snow drifts.
Santa's office is a merry place with kids running around happy after having sat on Santa's knee. Giant jolly snowmen flanked the entrance of his main office. Next door at Santa's main post office Santa's elves were busy at work diligently replying to every letter that Santa received.
Finally we were ushered into Santa's inner study and in the presence of the large-hearted, white-bearded man himself.
P K Mare immediately threw Santa on the back foot when he asked if he could have miniature bottles of Finlandia Vodka instead of the candies that Santa usually handed out.
"Ho, ho, ho," said Santa, playing for time.
I decided to make some polite conversation before putting forth my query of the non-delivery of my gift.
"So Santa, what plans for Easter?
Santa looked relieved that he now had a question he could answer.
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'I'm going to take Prancer to the vet...'
"I'm going to take Prancer to the vet. He has a weak digestive system, but insists on running away into the forest and snacking on wild toadstools before a flight. Then instead of turbulence I have to fly through terrible flatulence.
"Last year, it was so bad that I had to land in Iraq and borrow a gas mask from a US Marine's chemical warfare kit."
P K Mare butted in again. He wasn't quite done with the vodka thread of conversation.
"Santa, if I switch to a daily peg of Finnish vodka instead of Old Monk, will I be in your good books?
"Ho, ho, ho," replied Santa again, making a mental note to deliver the 'Dummies Guide to Fighting Alcoholism' to Mr Mare's house next Christmas.
Finally I put forth the question around which this trip had formed.
Father Christmas looked at me with kindly eyes and magnanimously spread his arms.
P K suggested that he was indicating the amount of vodka he'd give us in compensation. By now I was very tempted to apply my right palm with great force to P K's left ear.
Santa said, "I have to take into consideration a lot of things before I deliver gifts, son."
"The car you asked for will consume fuel like a thirsty camel and doesn't meet current emission norms. And we really have to look after the environment now, more than ever."
Three days later we were on our flight back home and I looked back and realised that we'd had a superb trip to Rovaniemi. The temperature, which had sounded scary, had actually been the reason we'd had so much fun on the snow and ice. And being well-clad against the cold, it was actually fun being outdoors.
We'd seen an awesome display of the northern lights on our evening snowmobile safari through the hills when we'd stopped and lit a campfire and were drinking hot berry juice.
It had been the perfect celestial display, celebrating a very enjoyable holiday.
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