On the festival of lights

"Diwali is the festival of lights" is unanimously the first line that strikes any 'thinking about Diwali' mind. Be it seven year olds writing their first essays or a Jhumpa Lahiri defined 'American - Indian' describing it to their American friends and colleagues. It is often followed by the description of little candles, lamps or their modern day counterparts - the electric lights, lit around the house with figurative descriptions of throwing darkness out of our lives. Grannies singing tales of epics Ramayana and Mahabharata with stories of Hindu God Rama returning to Ayodhya after 14 years of exile or Krishna's triumph over Narakasura still hum in our heads.

I cannot speak for all Indian's abroad, but this definitely is one of the days I would like to be at home in India with parents, relatives and friends. No matter how many times I might have run into the quieter sanctums of the house to escape the deafening noises of the bursting fireworks; or fought with my brother over his taunting remarks of my cowardly self, there is a charm about this day. coming from a 'non-orthodox but preserve your culture' South Indian family, I miss waking up at 5.30 in the morning, drawing Hibiscus rosa-sinensis next to mother's elaborate, delicate and exceedingly beautiful rangolis; juggling between salt and sugar bottles being the second-in-command chef of the day; sitting through the long hours of prayers; flaunting around the house in the new clothes; complaining about the wind, aligning the candles/lamps in beautiful shapes; lighting the flowerpots( a kind of fireworks) with sparklers.

In spite of all my successful experiments of cooking and haunts to the Mall and friends' places, the day feels incomplete.

Missing folks back home and wishing you all a very happy Diwali(aka Deepawali)!

~Deepti