Christmas Jack-o'-Lantern

by Subhajit Waugh

  “Oh my god! Once again?!” Mr. Santa jumped on his feet.

  Mr. Santa’s reaction seemed to please Mr. Belsnickel. He continued playfully “Will you be happy to find her in the arms of Ded Moroz? Maybe that’s why he wishes to arrive here in Caribbean as your close neighbor”.

  “You must find a solution immediately!” Mr. Santa ordered in a fit of rage. “You didn’t answer me” Mr. Santa said, “How will you force Ded Moroz wind up his base from my backyard?”

  “How about fire?” Belsnickel asked playfully.

  Mr. Santa looked at him in alarm. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash!” Santa said in a desperate tone.

  Belsnickel gave a piercing look and said “Of course, not. After all, you are my boss. I must obey without questions”. He stretched himself lazily, raised his eyebrows, tweaked his gray moustache and said with an emotionless face “your wish is my command”. Then he got up, walked to the washbasin and washed off his hands.

  * * *

  The news reached Pandemonium as well. Devil’s assistant Beelzebub rushed to his master, to deliver the news.

  “Ded Moroz is setting up toy factories in Caribbean, my Lord” Beelzebub said to Devil.

  When Beelzebub broke this news, Devil was in his private Chemistry laboratory, pouring red blood from his test-tube into the chemistry flask. The lab was situated deep underground in the cellar and looked more like an alchemist’s lab or a sorcerer’s den.

  “So Moroz is setting up his base right in the backyards of Santa’s territory, eh?” a wicked smile appeared on the corner of Devil’s lips as he spoke.

  “Shall we ask Jack to capitalize the issue and flare up already heated Santa-Moroz relations?” Beelzebub asked.

  “Well, no!” Devil paused, as he wore rubber gloves on his hand, and slowly placed his safety goggles over his eyes “You know Beelzebub, nowadays, I am losing faith in Jack. Especially, ever since, Jack has formed close relationship with Ded Moroz. I wish I had listened to you and appointed Krampus to head this project in the first place!”

  “I always advice you in your best interest, my Lord” Beelzebub said. A look of satisfaction and pride appeared on Beelzebub’s face.

  “In any case, I won’t trust Jack for any assignment against Moroz” Devil said, “It’s better to sidestep him”.

  “Meanwhile, what am I supposed to do about Moroz’s factories?” Beelzebub asked.

  Devil didn’t answer anything, but tore off a piece of paper from his notebook, and slowly tore it further into smaller pieces. Then he piled the pieces of paper in a pan-shaped crucible made from the upper half of a human skull.

  “Now watch this Beelzebub” Devil said, as he reached for a small bottle labeled ‘glycerin’ from his rack and poured it on the paper heap. Then he took a bottle labeled ‘potassium permanganate’ and sprinkled a spoonful over the soaked papers.

  A few moments passed.

  Smoke started emerging slowly, and the papers burst into flames.

  Beelzebub bowed down to his master “You have made your point, my Lord. I understood your message. Your orders shall be obeyed” he bowed once again and left the laboratory.

  * * *

  Ded Moroz was sitting on a block of stone, holding his fishing rod and watching the sailing boats among the serene background of the lake. A tiny ripple on the surface of water, made him excited. “Someone has swallowed the hook!” he murmured to himself “Now time for some action”. He started winding his reel.

  At that very moment, his secretary arrived. “Sir, I have terrible news”.

  “What’s is?” Moroz demanded.

  His secretary hung his head down and remained silent.

  “You aren’t dumb, are you?” Ded Moroz said, quite forgetting about his fishing business.

  “I am afraid; I have very bad news to deliver”.

  “Speak up man” Ded Moroz commanded.

  “Sir, your ‘military toy’ factories in the Caribbean…”

  “What happened to my factories?”

  “…Engulfed in flames…they have been burned down; reduced to ashes”.

  “Is it reliable news?” Moroz asked, holding his secretary by the shoulder.

  “I am sorry to say, but the answer is ‘Yes’. It’s a bitter fact. The last gnome worker returning home was a witness”.

  “Oh my God!” Ded Moroz said. He threw his fishing rod in the lake and stood shocked and motionless. “I know, Santa Claus did this…did it on purpose. He wants to throw me out of business”. He stumped his foot and screamed “Santa Claus!”

  Ded Moroz picked up his magical, silver staff. He closed his eyes and chanted some incantation and then touched the surface of water with its tip.

  The water around its tip turned transparent jelly like, then glassy and then into solid ice. Icy chill wind started blowing. Moroz and his secretary shivered as powdery white crystals of snowflakes fell from the air and settled on their beards. The freezing process started spreading rapidly on the water surface. The lake started changing into solid ice.

  “Santa Claus is growing fat and plump on the sweat and blood of his worker Elves!” Ded Moroz was still fuming and grinding his teeth “Won’t that rascal ever allow an old person like me to live in peace?”

  Moroz turned towards his secretary and said “Mr. Santa may not be aware that I was a dreaded sorcerer in the past. Now he will see how cruel I can turn” Ded Moroz burst in anger “Ask ‘Koschei’, the head of my secret unit, to meet me immediately. A tooth for a tooth! I swear!”

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  Chapter 37

  Mousetrap

  As Santa’s reindeer sledge started losing altitude, Mr. Santa Claus got a clearer view of Guangdong province of China.

  Upon landing, Santa Claus was welcomed by a massive crowd of cheering Elves and humans. A red carpet had been laid from the landing pad to the main entrance of the toy factory. Petals of roses had been sprinkled as a welcome gesture.

  “I wish ‘Shengdan Laoren’ were present at this inauguration” Santa said remorsefully “After all, this factory was his brainchild. He took the initiative of making me invest here”.

  “Oh don’t worry” one of his bodyguards said “He will definitely come after the inaugurations are over with bunches of white flowers”.

  “White flowers?!” Santa asked in surprise.

  “Never mind that” the bodyguard said. He was clearing the crowds for Mr. Santa to pass along. He was wearing black eyeglasses, and his face appeared unfamiliar, like a fresh recruit.

  In fact most of the bodyguards appeared unfamiliar.

  Santa didn’t have the time to ponder. The gathered crowd showered flowers, threw confetti in the air and children were desperate to breach the security barricade and get an autograph from Santa Claus.

  Everyone clapped their hands and cheered when Mr. Santa cut the ribbon. Then he broke the bottle of ‘Champagne’ against the factory wall, and gave a very brief ‘inauguration speech’.

  On entering the factory, the first thing Mr. Santa noticed was that nobody had bothered to arrange the furniture and raw materials. He was surprised to find barrels of crude oil and highly inflammable materials carelessly piled in heaps inside the factory.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?” Santa Claus asked.

  The bodyguards didn’t reply to Santa’s question.

  “I don’t see anybody inside” Santa said cautiously.

  “Oh, that’s because we had sanitized the entire factory for your security during the inauguration ceremony” Santa’s bodyguard replied, “They will start production from tomorrow. This way please…”

  Santa was led with great honor to the CEO room.

  “That file on your table contains all relevant information about expenditures, supplier’s lists, this year’s estimated production targets etc. You might like to have a look” one of the two bodyguards suggested.

  Santa sat on the CEO chair. The two men leading Santa excused themselves.

  Al
l of a sudden, the door closed and Santa was locked in the CEO room from outside.

  Santa shouted aloud and banged the door, but nobody answered. He found with horror that it was not the usual wooden door, but it was made of steel.

  He watched through the metal grill of the window, adjacent to the door. There was no one in sight.

  He was helplessly trapped, when a masked person came running and threw a burning torch at the heap of inflammable materials. Mr. Santa watched the fire spreading rapidly, through the iron grill of the window. The fire almost touched the barrels of inflammable liquids!

  There was no escape.

  It was a death trap.

  Santa fell on his knees on the carpet for his last prayer.

  He closed his eyes, folded his hands and started muttering, when he heard a knock.

  He jumped on his feet, quite forgetting his prayers and dashed to the door. He shouted aloud “Why do you knock? The door is locked from outside. Open it for heaven’s sake”.

  Nobody answered.

  “Hello!” Santa shouted in desperation “open the door!”

  Still nobody answered.

  Santa Claus slammed and banged on the door with all his might. He was crippled with fear as he watched with horror through the window. The flames had touched the barrels. The plastic containers were melting, spilling crude oil and spreading a blanket of flames across the floor.

  He was feeling the intense heat. The surrounding had turned into an inferno.

  Mr. Santa was coughing from the obnoxious smoke. He wrestled hard to close the window, but it was hopelessly jammed. He coughed and pulled the handle madly, but the window won’t budge an inch.

  “Broooommm!” a cylinder burst with an ear-bursting sound, sending a blast of flames and set the lower part of the curtain hanging on one side of the window on fire.

  Santa Claus was paralyzed for a moment, watching the flame rise up and engulfing the curtain. Then he pulled the curtain with a jerk, managing to bring it down along with the aluminum pelmet. He threw it on the floor, stamped it with his boots, and put out the fire.

  The half burned glowing curtain started emitting suffocating fumes. There was no water supply to douse the glow of the charred remains. Thick black smoke was entering inside the room from the open window as well. Santa Claus was chocking and was on the verge of collapse from the unbearable intense heat.

  He heard a knock once again.

  “I am hearing things” he whispered to himself “my senses are failing me at this last moment”.

  There was another knock. This time it was louder, and appeared to emerge from the floor rather than from the door.

  “I am going crazy!” Santa uttered. “This is the effect of inhaling too much smoke. Nothing but hallucination………I’ll faint soon and everything will be over”.

  Another round of knocks emerged from beneath the carpet.

  Santa Claus was coughing incessantly, choking and gasping for breath. He was now too weak to respond. His lungs were burning and tears flowed copiously. His clothes were dripping wet from intense sweating. He collapsed on the carpet.

  The knocking grew louder and more frequent.

  Santa Claus was lying unconscious.

  A loud clanking noise, as loud as a hammer striking the anvil, emerged from beneath the floor.

  Santa Claus regained consciousness momentarily, turned and got up slowly, gathering all his energy, just like a candle which burns brightly for once just before burning off.

  He responded to the knock, and tried to remove the heavy carpet, but it proved beyond his meager strength. He walked unsteadily to one side of the carpet, and started rolling it into a bundle. When he managed to roll it halfway, he saw a segment of circular metal lid on the floor.

  His strength multiplied ten times in a burst of excitement. He rolled the carpet further, exposing the entire lid. Then with a superhuman effort, he managed to remove the lid, exposing an underground passage.

  He had exhausted all his strength. He saw stars swirling around his head. He saw a faint image of a black figure climbing up the ladders from beneath the passage. He felt as if he was being lifted and placed on the shoulder and then a sensation of sinking through the hole in the darkness below. He felt cool and smelt fresh air just before fainting completely.

  * * *

  When Santa opened his eyes, he was lying on a clean white bed. There were white curtains all around him. There was a white porcelain base with a bunch of white flowers on a white table by the side of his bed. “So this is heaven!” he murmured “At last” he sighed.

  To his great surprise, Belsnickel, the head of his secret unit, pushed aside one curtain, and rushing inside, he greeted Mr. Santa Claus.

  “What happened?” Santa asked.

  “Try to recall Sir. You’ll be able to remember” Belsnickel replied bluntly.

  Santa Claus closed his eyes and remained silent for a few moments.

  He opened his eyes and said, “I shall be forever grateful to you Belsnickel. You saved my life”.

  “It was an attempt on your life!!” Belsnickel thundered “A murderous attempt by Ded Moroz and his wicked right hand person Koschei! You forbade me to use fire to uproot Moroz’s base in the Caribbean” Mr. Belsnickel said angrily “Now look, what they have done!”

  “But don’t you have a hand in burning down Moroz’s factories to ashes?” Mr. Santa snapped, “What happened now might have been their retaliation”.

  “I didn’t have any hand in that incident” Mr. Belsnickel protested vehemently “How could I have disregarded your wish and played with fire?”

  Mr. Santa didn’t seem at all convinced. He viewed Belsnickel with deep suspicion and said, “Tell me what is going on. It has become a matter of life and death to me”.

  “I’ll tell you the truth” Belsnickel said “nothing but the truth. Absolutely unadulterated, 24 carat truth” Belsnickel twitched his moustache “The truth is, I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of their sinister plots through my excellent spy network. So, if you are really grateful, you should reconsider your decision, Sir”.

  “Reconsider what?” Santa asked.

  “You insisted on cutting funds for my organization” Belsnickel said with unusual coolness, “now you admit yourself that dealing with Koschei’s strike is a question of life and death! In view of the gravity of the situation, I demand tripling of allocated funds from this financial year”.

  “Tripling?!!” Santa Claus reacted like having a major heart stroke.

  “Well, Sir, I can’t assure that another assassination plan won’t be hatched. You can continue distributing gifts to the world, only if you manage to remain in this world” Belsnickel said, as he drew a parchment “Now, would you kindly put your signature here?”

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  Chapter 38

  Winds of Change

  Jack was back in Elf-land, on Devil’s errand.

  Jack stopped while passing an unfenced playground of an elfish school. He watched elf soccer, played between a dark-elf team on one side, and light-elf team on the other. The match was a heated one, played with the full intensity of a battle, with occasional swearing and angry outburst at any slightest foul. Jack wondered how the elf children learnt such offensive and fowl slang at this young age. The slang were racial, targeting parents and ancestry. And worst of all, the dark coach of the dark-elf team did not scold, nor the pale skinned coach admonished, but laughed and encouraged the young.

  Jack glanced at the school buildings and the playground. The school captured the present situation in elf-land in a rather succinct manner. The school had two buildings facing each other, with the playground in between. Jack distinctly remembered that one building housed the primary sections for elementary studies, and the other was meant for secondary & higher studies. Both buildings had healthy mixture of dark & light elves. But now one building was meant purely for light elves from elementary to secondary; and the other for dark elf children. The sports teams had a
lso met the same fate.

  Similarly, Elf-land was now bitterly divided among Dark Elves and Light Elves. The central administrative structure of elf-land had totally collapsed. Laws of the land were different in different counties now, depending on the relative populations of Light and Dark Elves in each county. Every county was ruled either by the dark elves or the light elves. Laws were racially discriminatory, and High Elves, Snow Elves and other minority Elves were forced to swear loyalty to the ruling class in every county.

  Jack’s thoughts were shattered by a violent uproar. He watched with horror as a dark elf-child drew out a pocket knife and slashed the finger of a small light-elf child. As red blood gushed out and dripped on the ground, the attacker proudly waved his knife and sneered “Where is the aristocratic blue blood in your veins?”

  One of the victim’s friends drew out a sharp razor and slashed the palm of the attacker in instant retaliation and said, “Neither do I see any royal purple blood which you liars claim!”

  Within moments, a serious fight broke out. They picked up stones and started hitting each other. Jack fled in panic. Once out of danger zone, Jack sighed and ruminated they saw the same red blood flowing in their veins. But when will they really see that? When will they realize?

  Jack continued his fact-gathering mission. His findings were as expected: All meetings and rallies in Elf-land were carried out in segregation, and strictly boycotted by the opposite race of Elves. They had set up separate public facilities. And of course they now had separate places of worship: Light Elves visited the temples of ‘Freya’, while the Dark ones offered their prayers at the temples of their Smith hero ‘Volundr’.

  While touring, Jack came upon a small gathering of Elves. Banners had been erected above the stage and at several adjacent places, announcing: Harmony gathering of all races of elves.

  The gathering included both dark and light elves. But they clustered closely in small groups and appeared skeptical. Some of them even scoffed and whispered ‘Harmony is bullshit!” and ‘this is impractical madness’. Some of them made vulgar comments and jokes.

  Jack listened attentively to the ongoing speech.

  “…Mountain trolls and gnomes are greedily eyeing our differences like hungry vultures and wolves…” the speaker was giving his speech in a very passionate tone. Jack observed that the suspicion and skepticism were slowly fading from the faces of the gathered elves, and they were getting emotionally involved.