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“Can you not make that noise? I can’t remember a peaceful night’s sleep for such a long time!” Santa grumbles at Anna.

Anna is regretful about making that ugly grinding noise but couldn't help it; it was the only way to soothe her itching throat. Yet, she retorts, “Oh, is it? If you had known earlier, would you not have pestered me into marrying you?”

“Okay now, you needn’t remind me of those ignorant days of my life,” replies Santa with mock irritation.

Anna stares at the ceiling. There he was, casually tossing aside the very memory she had treasured and preserved for the past many decades. After all, it was he, the heartthrob of many girls she knew - who had proposed to her, not the other way around. If she couldn't boast about that now and then, what exactly had she earned from fifty years of marriage?

Santa turns his head to the other side of the bed where there is absolute silence now. Seeing the crestfallen look on his dear wife's face, Santa feels apologetic for having uttered those nonsensical words.

“Come on, dear, I was just pulling your leg,” he says, nudging playfully at his soulmate. “It is not that I can forget those green days of our life so easily, but you have left no stone unturned over the years to make sure I don't forget them. Mm... those were the days!”

Nursing her wounded vanity, Anna gets up from bed to drink warm water from her thermal flask. Though she enjoyed bantering with Santa, she was extremely loving and caring where her husband was concerned. Age was catching up with them, bringing along its share of inconveniences and wanting changes to their lifestyle. Anna knew that life could spring surprises at any point. To enjoy each other’s company for as long as possible required patience, tolerance, commitment and effort from both.

By God’s grace, they had shared a good innings together and were still deeply in love. Understanding each other’s feelings and mannerisms without making it obvious had become second nature to them over the years.

“What time is it now?” asks Santa when Anna lies back down to catch up on her sleep.

“It is only two in the morning. Why don’t you sleep a little longer? I have noticed that you sleep less these days,” replies Anna, concern reflecting in her voice.

Though Santa hated Anna's overindulgence and constant worrying, he knew that if he did not listen to her, she would keep blabbering, and then he would have no choice but to keep his mouth shut for a while. He no longer had the energy or the patience to sustain the cold wars that once lingered between them until Anna surrendered.

At times, it had been he who was in the wrong, but his pride would not let him admit it. Looking back, he regretted those moments. It was mostly Anna who took the first step towards a peace treaty. She loved him too much to endure a mute household.

She often used to say, “You are otherwise such a meagre talker. If you keep totally mum, I will go crazy talking to myself!”

Santa smiles in the darkness. Ha ha! She could even compliment herself on being a chatterbox.

Being talkative is fine, but talking without knowing the circumstance, place or time has always been Anna’s greatest weakness. She never means any harm, yet her words can sometimes become so sharp and accusing that people get offended. Pen is not always mightier than words. What is written can be erased, but words once spoken cannot be taken back, however much one may explain them later. I have tried telling her this many times, but her preconceptions about what others think of her have rooted themselves deep in her conscience.

I remember how I met her for the first time, how we tied the knot, and how our life took flight together. It was not always smooth sailing, but we endured all that life threw at us, understanding each other's shortcomings, appreciating and enjoying the good times. Looking back, wasn't it an epic half-century of adventure?

Phew! Fifty years...

Am I forgetting something? I get up and put on my glasses to check my phone.

March 16!

Oh!

“What is it, old man? Now you aren’t letting me sleep. Do I complain? This is how a good companion behaves, unlike some irritating, annoying old man,” mutters Anna with a chuckle.

“Was that a good comeback?” she wonders to herself, smiling with satisfaction as she closes her eyes, waiting for a pleasant morning.

Santa could not sleep anymore. He went into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator for everything needed for his little surprise for Anna. To his delight, all the ingredients suggested by the YouTube video were already there. Once he was sure he had everything, he set his magical hands to work, taking care not to make enough noise to alert Anna.

When everything was ready, he made Anna's favourite coffee and returned to wake her up. Throwing surprises had always been Anna's forte, but today Santa was immensely pleased that he could return the favour.

“Hey, sweetheart! Wake up, lazy bones! The sun is already up and you are still huddled inside your comforter,” coos Santa. But Anna does not seem to hear and continues her sweet slumber.

“I will tear this love rival of mine someday,” grumbles Santa. “She hardly snuggles up to me these days after she got this new blanket gifted by her precious brother.”

“Anna! Get up now!”

But Anna does not react. Santa grows worried. Anna is not a deep sleeper, yet she hasn't even flickered her lashes at his loud call.

“Is she breathing?” He places his fingers beneath Anna's nose.

Unable to feel her breath and finding her lying unusually still, he screams her name. Looking at her calm, smiling face, an electric wave shoots through his entire body. Panicking, he shakes her roughly and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Why are you crushing me, old man?” protests Anna as Santa stares at her, petrified.

“I was having such a beautiful dream. You were making me a lovely birthday cake and trying to surprise me by waking me up with cake and coffee. Before you could wish me, I wake up to this nightmare! This is not fair!” But Santa pays no attention to her complaints.

For a moment, he feels as though he had walked to the gates of hell and back. The thought of almost losing his beloved had shaken him to the core. He hugs her gently, kisses her forehead and whispers,

“Happy seventy-fifth, dear wifey.”

© Anjana Premkumar 2026