Dear Mr S. Claus

 Dear Mr. S. Claus,


For four Pune winters, your magic wand has been as absent as road-discipline near Balewadi stadium during peak hours. 

The stardust that once painted our lives with joy, laughter, and raucous music parties has been shelved like an unshared CKP dessert ninav. Good friends have become as rare as snowflakes in Baner, and the soul-warming elixirs of good whiskey, Bailey's-laced coffee, and Alka’s chicken biryani remain an unfulfilled dream.

This festive famine must end, samjhey? 

Let your sleigh be fueled not by reindeer but by Peshwa resolve. Let fish cutlets sizzle, laughter echo, and sound of guitar ignite every Nandan Prospera's A4 501 room.

Your four-year hiatus has turned our mirth into myth, and patience, my dear Claus, is melting faster than an ice cube in that 18 year old Mr. Walker that's been sitting behind a string of Christmas lights that seldom work. 

Fail me again, and I shall lodge a formal complaint with Mr. JC himself, whose birthday just so happens to coincide with your annual PR stunt.

Clock's ticking....

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