SANTA ON THE INTERNET
(First read on the world service of the BBC in December 1998)

Mr Rodrigues wondered what the matter was with Neville. When the boy came home from school at the beginning of the Christmas vacation, his father had his reasons ready - Why they could not buy the biggest Christmas tree and what was fair to ask of Santa Claus and what just wouldn't do. Neville had been rather insistent, almost troublesome last year. But this time he was behaving as if he had never heard of Christmas. He was silent and thoughtful and did not seem keen to go out to play with his friends. His mother asked him if anything was bothering him. Neville smiled wanly and shook his head. Mr Rodrigues thought that perhaps the boy had done badly in school and checked his books, but found 'stars', 'goods' and 'very goods'. In fact, in his rough book, the seven year old seemed interested in solving problems involving numbers that even Mr Rodrigues found rather intimidating.
Finally it was he who asked Neville if he would like to have the Christmas tree they had seen in Uncle Philip's shop. The boy indicated with a slight nod that it would do but showed no further interest, and when his father asked him if he had got his note for Santa Claus ready, he reddened and quickly looked away.
Mr Rodrigues had other things to do and quite forgot about it all until one morning when he realized with a start that it was Christmas Eve and nothing was ready. It seemed to him now that he wanted the Christmas tree more than Neville, and he was not doing the boy a favour when he sat with him decorating it. He enjoyed giving presents more than Neville enjoyed receiving them! So he put everything aside, called his son, stood in front of him like a benevolent genie and declared that he might ask whatever he wished. The boy stood with a slight frown on his face. Hadn't he as yet written his letter to Santa Claus? his father wanted to know. Neville blushed, looked down and said: "No".
Then without warning he shouted "No!" at the top of his voice. This brought Flora running into the room, her hands covered in dough. She looked from her son to her husband who stared back at her blankly.
"Why did you tell me lies?" Neville cried savagely. "Everybody laughed at me! Everybody made fun of me! Everybody knows that there is no Santa Claus! Why did you tell me lies?"
He was trembling violently. Flora rushed out, wiped her hands and came back. She tried to take him in her arms but he pushed her away. Then he began to sob. Big sobs shook his little body as his anguished soul that had locked it all up within itself for days cried out to be heard, cried out to be comforted.
"Everybody….laughed at me. Even the PT teacher….laughed!"
He went on sobbing and spluttering. Gradually his parents heard that on the last day of school, before the holidays began, he was playing in the field with Ajit. A little distance away a group of boys had gathered around the PT Instructor. Somebody was handing around leaflets and there were exclamations and squeals of delight. Jeroze called him and when he went over somebody asked him if he believed in Santa Claus. He said, "Yes" and there were howls of laughter. Jeroze who lived upstairs on the sixth floor called him a simpleton and Anush said he was a sissy. And everybody laughed, even the PT teacher laughed.
As the words tumbled out, Neville felt relieved of some of the misery that had taken away the joy of Christmas. Flora took him in her arms and this time he allowed her. As he buried his head in her bosom there was another flurry of sobs. She pressed him close saying kindly: "Nobody can be sure there is no Santa Claus."
He quickly looked up and in a strange voice declared: "There is no Santa Claus. It has been conclusively proved."
"Conclusively proved!" echoed Mr Rodrigues, stunned. The words sounded so queer coming from the little boy's mouth.
Neville pushed himself away, pulled out a paper from his pocket and gave it to his father. It was a computer printout. Anush's father had made a number of copies when he first saw it on the Internet. It was a mathematical dissertation on Santa Claus's Christmas journey. The number of Christian houses all over the world had been ascertained, and giving Santa Claus five seconds to go down the chimney and five seconds to come up, the writer had calculated that if Santa Claus were to deliver his gifts in one night, he would be travelling at a speed faster than that of light. And since nothing can travel faster than light, this proved that Santa Claus could not exist. Q.E.D.
Neville told his father that his teacher had said that the man who had put it on the Internet had real brains. Mr Rodrigues nodded slowly. "Yes", he thought, "the man has a very big brain and a very small heart." He tapped the paper and looked at his son.
"There is a mistake here," he said.
Neville looked up with hope in his eyes but then frowned and ran off. He came back with his rough book where he had struggled with numbers exceeding the speed of light. Mr Rodrigues laughed. "Come!" he said.
He took Neville to his room and switched on the computer. They went through the steps of the equation. It was all quite correct but at the very end there was a serious mistake. The man had forgotten to take into account Santa Claus's assistants. And when they divided the monstrous figures by the number of assistants Santa Claus had, what they got was a speed that appeared quite sensible, in fact it was exactly the speed at which reindeer went. And how does Santa Claus choose his assistants? Neville thought that they should be wearing Santa's dress. But his father said that that was not the most important thing. To be a Santa Claus one had to possess something quite different and if Neville wanted to know what it was, they would have to go to Main Street right away. And so Mr and Mrs Rodrigues and Neville stepped out of their East Street residence, took a short cut down Brigadier's Lane and were on Main Street right opposite Mr Philip's store.
This year Philip & Co. had decorated not just the front of their shop but the entire building. An enormous star had been suspended from the roof of the third storey and the words 'Merry Christmas' twinkled in red and green and yellow. Neville pointed at the flashing lights and then at a powerful beam of light sweeping the skies, seeming to come from D'Costa Electricals down the road. Then he cried: "Look!"
There was a Santa Claus in Philip's store and a treat waiting for all children - a packet of Philip's famous shiny chocolates. There were games with prizes to be won that kept Neville busy while Mr Rodrigues exchanged greetings all around and chatted with Mr Philip. When they came out of the store, Mr Rodrigues was holding a brown paper parcel. Neville was clutching his shiny chocolates and was very excited about a little battery operated car that he had won. Anush had asked for just such a car from Santa Claus the year before but what he got was a 'push-and-pull' car, naturally, because there was no Santa Claus.
They met Jeroze's mother who had just bought a few leaves of a stamp album because she could not afford to buy the whole book even though Jeroze had been pestering her for weeks. Everything was getting so frightfully expensive! They walked on and then Mr Rodrigues told Neville of his plan. They would buy a whole stamp album, and Neville dressed up as Santa Claus would tiptoe to the sixth floor, ring the bell and run away leaving the album at Jeroze's door with a note from Santa Claus. What did Neville say to that? Neville laughed in delight and it did Flora good to see him so happy. He could hardly wait to get home.
After dinner Mr Rodrigues opened the brown paper parcel and showed Neville Santa's costume. He tried it on and it fitted well.
"Am I a Santa Claus now?" asked Neville.
"Almost," said his father. "But not quite. First I have to see how well you do your work."
Neville wrapped the album in red and white paper and slipped in a note signed 'Santa Claus'. Shortly before midnight, he stole up the stairs, put the album against Jeroze's door, rang the bell and flew back down the steps. He enjoyed the mission so much that an idea took possession of him even before he had got back home. He took his little battery-powered car and asked his father if he could leave it at Anush's door. What fun that would be! Would Anush call himself a sissy?
Mr Rodrigues lifted the boy on to his chair. Looking into his son's eyes he said: "Now you are Santa Claus. Santa Claus is a person, any person, who has a kind heart, a loving heart, a giving heart. Do you understand?
The boy nodded quickly. So quickly, that Mr Rodrigues wondered if he had really understood. He laughed, lifted him down, and got ready to accompany him to the Greenacres down the road where Anush lived. When they came back they told Flora that the job had been done in spite of a rather inquisitive dog whose name, fortunately, Mr Rodrigues had recollected just in time.
Neville went to bed but the excitement of the evening made sleep impossible. Gradually the stamp album and the battery operated car and the speed of light and Jeroze and Anush all started getting mixed up. He was half-asleep. Loving heart….Giving heart….Suddenly he pulled back the sheets and jumped out of bed. How could he have forgotten!? He sat down at his table with a sheet of paper and his crayons.
Mr Rodriques too was awake. He lay in bed with his eyes open, rummaging through his brain for words, choosing a few, dropping them, pulling out some more, trying to make them fall into place, but they wouldn't oblige. He wanted to cross swords with that man on the Internet. Verses often came to Mr Rodrigues in the middle of the night. Limericks, couplets and sometimes very profound poems indeed! He would get up and write them down but when he read them in the morning he would often squirm with embarrassment and hastily tear up the paper. Some verses did get through and then he would show them to Flora. Once she had said "Very clever!" but the next time she had wriggled her nose and he had wriggled all over.
Some time after midnight he got it. He jumped out of bed and wrote down the words. Flora was peacefully asleep and he did not want to wake her up. But he didn't want to wait until morning and he didn't want to make a fool of himself on the Internet. He wondered if he should ask Neville what he thought of his poem. And so he opened his door at the very moment Neville opened his and peeped out. They laughed.
Neville ran to him with his card - the best he had ever made. 'Merry Christmas, Daddy' it said, 'Merry Christmas, Mummy'. And pinned to the card was a packet of shiny chocolates. 'From Santa Claus' it read. Mr Rodrigues knew then that the boy had understood.
He told Neville that he had an answer ready for the wise guy on the Internet and showed him the keys he could press if he liked the poem and wanted to put it on the Net. Neville was now wide-awake. There was going to be a fight and he was going to press the buttons that would knock down Goliath. He stared at the screen as his father began to type the words.

THE MATHEMATICS OF SANTA CLAUS

Know, all ye Ignorant, that the Mathematics of Santa Claus is the Mathematics of Love

Hundred pounds of Love mighty
And you give away ten,
What remains is not ninety
But a hundred and ten.

You have Light and you have Love
Between them there's no fight,
Santa goes the speed of Love
And not the speed of Light.

"Wow!"
On turning his head Mr Rodrigues saw Flora and blushed like a schoolboy. She put a finger to her lips and sitting down besides him rested her head on his shoulder.
"You are a genius!" she whispered.
Mr Rodrigues could not imagine a more beautiful Christmas present.
Neville too liked the poem. It rhymed. He slew the ogre with a press of the keys and sent their Christmas present flying across the world.
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