This is possibly the last Diwali as I know it. No, the world is not about to end. Last Diwali for me. The Last Diwali at home for a long time if things go according to the way they are planned at the moment. For a extremely non-religious person, I have a surprising love of festivals. Christmas doesn't count because that's always been more about the gifts and the parties in my experience. I am talking about Indian festivals: the extravagant ones. I would love to go out and play Holi if I had the chance but usually don't for various reasons, usually the lack of people! Even Durga Puja holds a special place in my heart, though being a "Non-Bong" I am obliged to crib about it. (Was going to write a post about it, but as most posts it was written in my head and never translated into typed words in virtuality)
But it is Diwali which has captured my heart. Completely. There is something about Diwali. It comes upon you slowly but when it's there you just can't ignore it. It bursts like those illegal crackers, creating as much sound as light. Lights. Why do I like them so much? Give me a pretty light over a pretty flower anyday. In Calcutta, add Kali Puja lights to Diwali and it's CESC's lucky day. Or days. The day before Diwali, I am invariably in the streets in the evening for some much grumbled against errand. But the moment I descend the last step of my building (yeah, we have no lift, die unfit jealous critic) and glimpse the streets and the balconies, their twinkling lights (LED mostly nowadays) all my complaints are forgotten (unless I have been wrested cruelly from the grips of an awesome book...aah thats irrelevant to this topic isn't it?).
It is in my home though that I find the most amount of excitement. Diwali also happens to be my Grandmum's birthday. And birthdays are a huge affair in my home. H-U-G-E. So other than the usual Rangoli (made by yours truly), the puja inscriptions (mum) and the sundry decorarations, flowers, diyas, puja shopping, we have people coming over for lunch and sometimes dinner. Cake and Kheer (for the lucky few who don't know what this is, you are blessed my friends. For the really curious, its a sweet liquidy thing, my advice: Stay away!!) are mandatory of course. Add to that 3 people with high blood pressure, usually short-tempered and harried with work Mum and Me (keep popping up, don't I?) and I don't think I should waste words here anymore.
New clothes were a huge attraction when I was younger but now it's the one time of the year I buy a Salwar suit, so not much practical use there. Fireworks and crackers have lost much of their crackle. Literally, as anyone living in West Bengal will know. The illegal sounds are the heralder of Diwali from weeks in advance and a noisy reminder days later. I still love them with the enthusiasm of a child. Probably with more than the enthusiasm of today's spoilt brats, no offense. But that's not it. Could it be the actual Puja? The ceremony in our home is simplistic to say the least. No one even sits still throughout the whole ceremony, and there are frequent fights in the middle between the participants, so none of the fabled peace and quiet of a religious ceremony here.
I have enough reasons to be sad on Diwali too. The most tangible reason was when I got burnt while picking up used sparklers. But the intangible ones are the places and people who sit in the darkness even on this day. For whom even affording a light is no mean achievement. The others are those who might be able to afford one but whose light will never reach their lives. For every little diya on a dark staircase, there are dark staircases without diyas. For every little girl/boy with a happy smile and a phuljari (sparkler), there is one without. My heart fills with despair and for that moment, even the brightest light can't fill the darkness...
