Happy Diwali


 

There are these meanings lost in time slowly floating around in the half-mystic memoirs of passed around gold, whittled into beautiful symbols of the times that were, with the times that are

 

I don’t understand these semi-apparitions, I could never be taught anyway but I find over the years I have forged new meanings for them from the moments that my life supplied. I remember the simple times they cut sharpest because they won’t come back and because I don’t want them to, I have become a tapestry from cloth, yet cloth is worn every day, tapestries fill the heart, sometimes, in the sidelines…

 

I remember the smells and tastes most keenly, of the legiyam, that black bittersweet digestive goo we were force fed on Diwali morning to offset the enormous amount of ingestion we would do on ghee and sugar all day. It had a taste that is never forgotten, rarely forgiven. We ate like cavepeople on Diwali day, both hands stuck in whatever we could get hold of, me and my brother, we were the most unashamed slobs ever. Dad too would be doing some genteel grownup slobbery discretely.

 

Mom would be shouting irritably in the background, trying to infuse us philistines with guilt and shame by sheer brute force, she had been up all night making stuff, but she didn’t stand a chance, none of us ever listened to anyone, including her. It makes for chaos, a household where everyone is determined to push their own agenda, and completely unabated in voice. Mom had some justification in her side, (never as much as she claimed though) me, my brother and my dad, we fought for the thrill of it, regardless of sense or use

 

The uneasy truce never failed to erupt into pitched battle on festival days, where each of us has distinct ideas on how exactly celebration must be done. We were four belligerent bigots forced to be joyful in a small area. Those were among the grandest times I ever had, I regretted the discord painfully for years, but never realized till now how blessed it was to be a naked soul and not give a damn, still forgive and be forgiven, ride every emotional roller-coaster inside half a day, and laugh hysterically at our endless follies

 

Yes, most of my young Diwali’s were deliriously happy, we woke up at 3 am, were force fed the legiyam, then hot oil was poured on our heads and we we pushed to bathe. We hurried through these formalities, the praying and the tikkas and the sweet samples, we wanted to be first in our apartment block to start the firecrackers. But we never actually got there my brother and I, there were much more competitive kids who stayed up all night and stood at the gate at the crack of 2 am and waited till they saw our faces, then KABOOOOM! @%$@#@%$s!

 

Then we would all play with sound and light and artificial bravado for two days straight

 

We were hardly ideal family
You and I, bound by blood
forcibly I feel it so keen
or bonds of players, I cannot say
you are half the worlds away
on this Happy Diwali
you are still half my worlds
always and today
with love

 
 
Advertisements

2 Responses

  1. That is lovely prose, really brings the scene and the people alive through their interactions and relationships.

    ~MM – Thank you Paul :)! I had very little to do with it actually, I was just lucky enough to be there…

  2. Hey,

    Just wanted to say, thank you for dropping by my blog 🙂

    And this one put a smile on my face. Loved the last part of poetry, it seemed to capture the whole essence of Deepavali so perfectly.

    Will keep checking back here me thinks, I’m running out of good blogs to read! 😀

    Chittz

    ~MM – Chittz, THANKYOU for that!!, I always thought I was the only one who felt this way about Diwali somehow… And I yours, thanks, welcome and do visit again :)!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: