The neighborhood finally wrapped up the Diwali celebrations and the deafening and irksome sounds of crackers and fireworks came to an end. All the more so, even three days post Diwali you could occasionally overhear firecrackers bursting, sometimes far-off, sometimes from the flanking lane. I stood on my balcony watching the last rocket as it went blazing up into dark sky. I fathomed what I had missed all these years being away from India.
When I spent the first 18 years of my life in Dubai, Diwali was one occasion I had never neglected to celebrate. That one day, albeit my folks celebrated it or no, I habitually made it a point to light at least a lamp. As a kid, I used to unearth glee in doing just that. Bliss was as simple as that. Diwali, the next four years in Kerala were loathsome.
And then came this one– the first
ever time I caught a glimpse of the authentic celebration, here in Bangalore. When every house you
set your eyes on is adorned with lights and illuminations, you just can’t help but
let your heart fill itself up with a lot of fond memories. More often than that,
you have your mind and body free of all the negativities when you watch some
members in the neighboring families lighting lanterns, others helping children ignite
a cracker, and a few others basking in the grandeur of the beautiful slow-glowing
yellow fire coming from the lamps besieging them. That’s the moment when although
very briefly, you somehow turn a blind eye to money and status. You forget that
you are a doctor or that you hold an engineering degree. You are one with the fire
you just lit. Momentarily, you forget how you look despite being dressed in
your best outfit. Even though they have watched it a hundred times before, when
the fountain firework springs up for a few seconds, the astonished face that everyone
makes, just cannot go unnoticed.
There is probably no other
country in the world that might give you even near-Diwali-experience. No other
country in the world which although clean in every way, beat the beauty of the
lights that embellish the day. When the whole of my country lights up, it
eliminates the evil, however powerful it may be. If I am not too wrong, I can
bet that such wholesomeness and purity can never be witnessed anywhere else
other than in India. Three fourth of my life in another country, and yet I long
to be in India. Spend my life in this beautiful land.
When the country winds up the
celebrations, I await the next year. The voices of mothers calling out to their
children repeatedly to be cautious, the laughter of kids when they successfully
burst a bomb, the music of bangles and anklets, the chants praising Goddess
Lakshmi, the ringing of bells from Puja, the blinking colorful LED lights that
will be re-used every year, the glittering sparks of gold that fills the sky, the
after-taste of ghee in your mouth from sweets, the oil dashes on your fingers
from lighting the diyas, and other such minute exhilaration with which we greet the day,
year after year.
