Children truly make Christmas feel complete, or so I’d heard over the years since moving to the United States. But I didn’t have the chance to experience this joy until now. My entire family — which includes my parents, sister, uncles, aunties, and two young cousins — lives in India, a place where most follow Hinduism, but that hasn’t stopped Indians from incorporating some Christian traditions. This year, I decided to visit them in December with one goal in mind: Force everyone to celebrate Christmas morning the American way. My sister, Kareena, had received instructions before my 22-hour flight to New Delhi. First, buy a tree. A real one, typically a Norfolk Pine, which happily grows in planters all year round, would have skinny and sparse branches, so a fake one would have to do. Second, buy enough wrapping paper — enough for two large suitcases worth of gifts, mostly toys. Third, create an invitation for Christmas morning: “Bring your Christmas cheer to the Poonia House, 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.,” it said. Everything was ready — almost. “Isn’t 9 a.m. too early?” my aunt Jyotie asked me. “Let’s just do it all on Christmas Eve, like we usually do.” But Santa Claus doesn’t leave gifts on Christmas Eve, I responded, putting my foot down. Meanwhile, her son, Hetvik, almost 6-years-old, had his own set of doubts. “I don’t think Santa is real, Gitu didi,” he said to me. “I think you got me my gifts.” Alas, I had my work cut out for me. In hopes of reasoning with him, I quoted the late Roy L. Smith, a clergyman who served in the Methodist Church in Los Angeles, “He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.” That wasn’t enough for him. On the night of Christmas Eve, Hetvik and I sat on the couch as I showed him the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) program, which tracks Santa Claus from the moment he leaves the North Pole, to lift his spirits and provide him with some evidence. NORAD says it is “the only organization that has the technology, the qualifications, and the people to do it.” The agency also has an extensive Q&A section that answers some of Hetvik’s questions, like when Santa would arrive, what route he travels, and how he travels the world in 24 hours. “But how can he read the letter I wrote to him?” he asked. This letter, Hetvik said, was under a lock and key as part of his experiment to see if Santa was real. I looked at Jyotie, who sat across from us. She gave me a sympathetic glance and shut down his line of questioning. “You’ll find out tomorrow,” his mother told him, and I took that as my cue to leave. After he fell asleep, Hetvik’s father told me the young boy fell asleep right when he saw Santa entering India on the NORAD tracker since he knew Santa would skip his house if he didn’t close his eyes. At 7 a.m. the next morning, my home was buzzing with excitement in anticipation of the ultimate Christmas morning. My mom was in the kitchen, whipping up the perfect breakfast spread: Heart-shaped mini waffles, cheesy garlic toast, cookies, a chocolate cake, hot cocoa, freshly squeezed orange juice and fruit bowls. I set the table and put the finishing touches on the gifts and the tree. Two hours later, we were sitting on the couch, wondering whether we were going to feed the kids too much sugar as we waited for Hetvik and my other cousin Chandvi, 9, to arrive with their parents. After living away from home for so long, I’d forgotten all about the Indian Standard Time that is the norm here, where everyone is notoriously late — anywhere between 15 minutes to a few hours. It was 45 minutes until I heard yelling at the door. “Merry Christmas!” Hetvik yelled outside. I greeted him at the door and asked him if Santa showed up at his house. “He did! He got me a cricket bat, a diary and a minecraft cup, a toy sword,” the young boy trailed on. “He was here, too,” I told him. “But we have to wait for Chandvi to show up, to start opening presents.” The party finally began, a whole hour later. Once they started unwrapping the gifts, there was no stopping them. Within 10 minutes — no, scratch that — seven minutes, the two children had already opened two dozen presents. All the while the family dog, a golden retriever, let out loud barks, perhaps hoping to join in on the happy screaming. Maybe all that sugar was a bad idea after all… “This was the best Christmas ever!” Hetvik yelled before shoving a big spoon of chocolate cake in his mouth. Chandvi nodded along while chewing, before flashing me a toothy grin.