I don't have many favourites. No favourite colour or place or music or movie or actor or cuisine. Diwali is not my favourite. Like most festivals, my excitement is more for the accompanying holidays. So, I was surprised by the emotions which affected me when we were sharing notes of our Diwalis.
So like we often do, Bobby and I had settled down for a quiet late evening in the small bedroom balcony with plates of snacks and were making plans for Diwali. And as I had sensed, like always, we ended up talking about old times. I don't know what was the trigger but I suddenly realised that in 24 years, it would be my first Diwali away from my parents. Soon, in between sobs and sniffs, I was rambling on and on about all the little things that made Diwali my Diwali.
I could so vividly recollect the big white plastic bag which stays hidden in some corner of the store room for 360 days and makes an appearance only a couple of days before Diwali. The strings, 'Happy Diwali' hangings, shiny plastic ruffles and stars, plastic plates with thermocol balls and baubles hanging from them, they are all dusted and then with great pain, hung up to adorn the front verandah of our home. This white plastic bag has had the same baubles for forever it seems. Nothing is discarded or replaced. There might have been a few new entries every decade or two, but nothing goes out. Just the thought that I would no more be standing on tip toes on iron stools to tie the string of artificial orange flowers to the front gate with Papa had my eyes wet.
And I remembered how I and Chinki, with quarter plates full of red kumkum mixed in water would run all through the house painting small red feet in front of every door. I am sure Goddess Laxmi would appreciate the pretty plastic stick-on feet as invitation as well, but the oddly shaped, painted little feet will always hold a special place in my heart.
All these years we had never ever bought dry colours. We used an old set of water paints to paint a rangoli on the stone and chips floor of the verandah. Taiji used to be livid, cursing us with often heard punjabi curses, for spoiling her carefully swept and mopped front verandah. We used to laugh, tease her heartily and continue drawing and re-drawing and detailing until it got too dark to see while tayiji threatened to have it wiped off at the first instant. She never did. The water colour rangoli stayed there for days, till it faded on its own. I adore her so much!
Diwali has never been about fire crackers for me. I did enjoy the charkhari, fuljhadi, train, serpent, foonk bum, hunter etc. etc. which Papa got in hoardes from the Sadar Bazaar wholesale market when I was a kid. The guy who lives up the streets lit rows of multi - coloured anaar, street long ladi, sky rockets which were delightfully colourful and loud. Now his children are continuing his legacy by going a step further. Wonder where they get so many loud bombs from!
But what Diwali has really been about is the puja. My oldest Diwali memories is of the entire family of 14 members sitting cross legged, huddled togther, us kids on laps of the adults, on carpeted floors in the living room while Pitaji (my grandfather) sat on the diwan and told us the Ramayana katha.
Every year. But the past 15 years, we have spent good part of the Diwali singing bhajans. Aah... so many of them. I am the star singer of the family. We have books and books of bhajans with us. While we were singing one, Papa flipped through the books, chose one promising looking bhajan, and slid the book towards me wanting me to sing that one next. We sang and sang for I don't know how many hours. People had already started the fireworks outside. But everyone had favourite gods to please and no one wanted to leave their favourite songs of worship out. Everyone sat pateintly and sang. Since last year, all my family has ribbed me with 'Who will sing the bhajans on Diwali now?'. I never thought it would be something I will miss. But damn, I will miss it so so so much! I already am actually. Humming one bhajan now. :)
So like we often do, Bobby and I had settled down for a quiet late evening in the small bedroom balcony with plates of snacks and were making plans for Diwali. And as I had sensed, like always, we ended up talking about old times. I don't know what was the trigger but I suddenly realised that in 24 years, it would be my first Diwali away from my parents. Soon, in between sobs and sniffs, I was rambling on and on about all the little things that made Diwali my Diwali.
I could so vividly recollect the big white plastic bag which stays hidden in some corner of the store room for 360 days and makes an appearance only a couple of days before Diwali. The strings, 'Happy Diwali' hangings, shiny plastic ruffles and stars, plastic plates with thermocol balls and baubles hanging from them, they are all dusted and then with great pain, hung up to adorn the front verandah of our home. This white plastic bag has had the same baubles for forever it seems. Nothing is discarded or replaced. There might have been a few new entries every decade or two, but nothing goes out. Just the thought that I would no more be standing on tip toes on iron stools to tie the string of artificial orange flowers to the front gate with Papa had my eyes wet.
Diwali has never been about fire crackers for me. I did enjoy the charkhari, fuljhadi, train, serpent, foonk bum, hunter etc. etc. which Papa got in hoardes from the Sadar Bazaar wholesale market when I was a kid. The guy who lives up the streets lit rows of multi - coloured anaar, street long ladi, sky rockets which were delightfully colourful and loud. Now his children are continuing his legacy by going a step further. Wonder where they get so many loud bombs from!
Post the puja everyone brought out the good stuff! Everyone made something special to be shared and had together. There were sweets, one tayiji makes matara chhola almost every Diwali while the elder one makes rice with peas and raita. Ma makes amazing pao bhaji. Oh I am getting hungry just thinking about it. We laugh, talk about this and that and just be together. Perhaps Diwali is the most beautiful day for us as a family.
So yes. I would miss my old Diwalis a lot. And now I can say that Diwali is my favourite festival! And from this year, I am going to make my Diwali our Diwali. We'll make new memories, me and Bobby with our family. Maybe my kid will write a blog someday about the traditions that we will begin. Lol.Happy Diwali guys. Have a good one.
