It was the twenty fifth of December, and I was just about two weeks older than five. The cartoons on TV talked about Christmas, and we were given ten holidays from school for it. I woke up, not really expecting any present, but thrilled anyways that it was Christmas and I’d get to sing all my favorite carols with my mother and spend the day at home doing what ever I wanted.
But there it was, a box, about a cubic foot in size, covered in silver wrapping paper.
“Merry Christmas Darling,
From your Secret Santa”
I was so excited! The fact that I didn’t know who it was really from added to the surprise. I felt special and I loved the feeling of having my very own ‘Santa Claus’ as after all it said “Your Secret Santa”. It surely wasn’t the Santa Claus who lived at the North Pole!
With full enthusiasm, I slowly opened the present, careful not to tear the wrapper, as I wanted to preserve it, a ritual I follow for all my presents, even to this date. There it was, a box covered with a picture of a red monster truck. My very own remote-controlled monster truck, which was red, a colour I didn’t fancy too much then, but today I’d have to admit, it is one of my favourite colours.
I was unsure. It was definitely something I hadn’t expected. And I’m pretty sure any toy store wouldn’t suggest a ‘monster truck’ for a five-year-old girl. It did seem a little strange, but then again, I was never much of a ‘girly’ girl. And sure enough, as my Secret Santa might have secretly predicted, I grew extremely attached to the monster truck.
The fact that I had gotten a gift, not conventionally given to girls, of a monster truck told me, at the tender age of five, that there needn’t be much of a difference between the sexes. I could do exactly what I wanted, and needn’t put myself under the leash of expectations that are put on every girl.
The large wheels of the truck, something that fascinated me as they were in no comparable proportion to the size of wheels I saw on cars around me, told me that I could dream any size and irrelevant of how odd they may seem, they can still drive me.
The fact that it could tread any sort of surface, including a track I specially made by sticking pencils and pens to the floor, making an uneven surface; told me that no path is too hard to be crossed if you really want to move ahead.
The large wheels, the small seating space for just two people and the bright colour told me that nothing had to fit any one else’s idea of perfection, and what matters is what you think of yourself.
Sure, at the age of five, this little remote controlled toy meant the world to me. I treasured it more than most of my Barbie dolls, or other play sets. I spent many hours taking it apart with a screw driver, and putting it all back together just to feel the thrill of believing that I knew how it worked. But still, it remained untarnished in my hands for years.
Two and a half years after my ‘Secret Santa’ had given me the moster truck (sure, I got a lot of other presents from him in the meantime, but this one was beyond just special), my younger brother was born and a couple of years later, I handed over my treasure to him (I had no intention of ‘completely’ handing it over, more like ‘sharing’ it). He loved it like I did, but sadly one day, it broke apart, about five years after I first saw it.
If I said that I didn’t mind, I’d be lying. In fact, I threw quite a tantrum and almost refused to part with the broken pieces. My parents comforted me and said, that it didn’t matter, it was too old anyways, and instead, I should look forward to a ride in a monster truck when I grew up. The idea appealed to me immensely and I made up my mind. When I grow up, I would own a monster truck.
I don’t know how close I am, or probably ever will be to actually owning a monster truck, but I sure would love to- a bright red one, to be precise.
And another thing, my ‘Secret Santa’ was my Dad. I still don’t really know whether it was his intuition that made him choose a ‘remote controlled monster truck’ for his five year old daughter, or just some confused toy sales executive who was very convincing, but I sure am glad I got that truck that one Christmas.
It told me I could dream.
