Keeping Up With Diwali

Ah! We're already into that exciting time of the year when our tummies flutter with butterflies, our closets glitter with gold, and our wallets jingle with coins - yea, chillar money is all you have left after shopping for friends, family, family of friends, Daisy Aunty's cats even... (who continue to multiply at an alarming rate). Undoubtedly, it's my favourite time of the year. Our houses go through a delightfully jaw-dropping makeover, our faces are lit with the radiance of golden lights and the hope that the Goddess of Wealth will be prett-ay, prett-ay pleased with us this year.  And our spirits... there's something about Diwali that makes our spirits dance around in a mixed bag of child-like joy, teenage unruliness, and that maternal urge to serve and please. Diwali, in all its grandor and large spiritedness, is pretty much the same in every household.

But then again, we all have our family rituals.

I can faintly recall my Diwali as a kid.  Sitting in a circle of chatty, giggly siblings, savoring my mom's cooking; her trademark balushahi and gulab jamuns served in squeaky, stainless steel bowls; gulab jamuns that my younger brother described as, "When you dive into it, it resists ever so lightly only to unleash all the gooey syrupy goodness on your spoon but it's still laden intact. And when you put it into your mouth it slowly disappears into nothing, leaving behind it a lovely saffron and cardamom infused, rich, sweet and fragrant taste. OK, this wasn't how he described it but it is the gist of it. (I'm a bit of a Masterchef head right now.) That is how the famous gulab jamun test came to be in our family (that was later sensationally succeeded by my talented bhabhi).

I also sort of recollect the proceedings of a Diwali puja and how inattentive and shifty I was during the whole ceremony, as I couldn't hold back the temptation of racing down the stairs and lighting firecrackers with friends and family. But before dashing out, there would be one last chore to do...We would all disperse into different rooms, in our slow and elegant gait, to lodge the lighted diyas in every room, looking on in the little light for a split second, happy to be one big family. Then we went downstairs to be the loud and obnoxious kids that we were. At the end of the night, I got pretty wheezy from all the pollution and my ears got that annoying ring that lasted through the night. But even with all my little issues that sometimes escalated to  being arm-lifted by my big brother all the way to the hospital to get nebulized, it never occurred to me even once that there could be such a thing as a Green, noiseless Diwali. It was pure unadulterated joy all the way back then.

Of course, many Diwalis have passed ever since, in the process of which I've crossed over to the other side to be an adult. And that unadulterated joy as a kid was sometimes dampened with the memory of deceased loved ones, whether it was of a selflessly giving mum, who gave the house her angelic touch, created indelible memories from her culinary wand (and bribed us with presents if we behaved well). Or a brat of an older brother who would lead the way to firing rockets, some of which would land, rather unexpectedly into someone's balcony; following which he'd whizz away from sight, leaving us innocent kids to bear the brunt of it.

Some Diwalis were spent adjusting to the noiseless anonymity of a festival in a new, unfamiliar land. However, the Desi community, being the Desi community, found an epic antidote to it. They decided to collectively spend it in an isolated ground in the outskirts of the city with all the uninhibited pomp of glitter and fireworks.

And some Diwalis, I dare confess, were even, rather foolishly, spent sulking over a badly-fitted outfit.

But then, as life goes, we also found our joy in embracing new family traditions. Of a crossover Diwali moderating its size and decibel levels to fit into an alien culture. Of welcoming a new lady of the house who taught us, despite all our protests, that Diwali also means taking a shower in the wee hours of the morning, before sunrise. Of course, we breezily walked into a loophole there. Who says you can't nap after a shower and that wintry morning cup of hot chai?

That was all before I got married. As you must've gathered, up until the point I got married and became a little lady of our love nest in Mumbai, I was only a passive participant of Diwali traditions, following instructions and spending the day in anticipation of new clothes and fireworks. My contributions to keeping up with family traditions was sort of confined to lighting diyas and cleaning my room.

My first Diwali, as a new bride, and as guided by my new mum (in-law), was enchanting...

Us - The New Couple

And eye-opening. I got all wonder-eyed to learn about the symbolism of cleaning our homes, bathing early, dressing up like a bride, and doing a hearty Laxmi Pujan, more so as a new couple. I also got to learn about how to make gadd badd on Anna Koot, the memory of which has been totally blocked out from my chidhood version of Diwali. The pain of picking out cleverly concealed lauki and torai in a deceptively tempting stew may have something to do with it. Of course, there were moments I recall that I was driven to insanity; either I was struggling to keep up with the monstrous task list that loomed before me or mumbling "WTF!" while tying the six-yard heavy silk round my-then frail waistline. I finally got why my mom and bhabhi woke up in the wee hours of Diwali. But what remained a mystery is how in God's name could they get that slick serpent-like fabric secured on their body in less than ten minutes? I also felt a bit homesick as the noise of crackers in our society drowned the mild-toned conversations between two people, a big cultural shift from the boisterous hulla gulla of an extended family. But, in the end, the anticipation of recreating a new family tradition with a brand new person (who is a constant burst of energy to be around) and the smugness that my new mum had faith in me, a total novice, to carry the torch forward made my Diwali as a new bride really special.

And then came along little Peaches. Which meant maintaining the sort of family traditions that we had as kids and recreating the magic of holidays for my little grubling, exactly as my mum, or for that matter any mum would work her post-baby ass off to spin.

Peaches' First Diwali

So I established a few basics:

1.There'll be no short cuts. Damn right I'll be making gulab jamuns and mathri for my kid. Of course, my gulab jamun attempt failed miserably cos as inviting as they looked, when we went digging in, there was a bit of a crumbly mess on our spoons that felt shy of our high standards. But whatever. Peaches loved them. Thankfully she's got a not-very-discerning sweet tooth.

2. And there'll be absolutely no rangoli stencils. Oh no no no...I'll be making my own art, even if it meant dabbing some blush-coloured powder on a potato, and adorning it with flowers. I did do a bit of cheating though. I traced it out with some chalk and then filled it with all the colors possible. This was what I put up in the last two years and I'm pretty damn proud.

Rangoli 2013

Rangoli 2014

3. The house'll look as festive as a stiff-lipped 2-BHK possibly can. So there'll be a lot of t-lights and candles. But then last year, I burnt my expensive silk while posing for our annual Diwali photo spams. So, this year I decided to be a bit more tactful in terms of the candle placement, considering Peaches has started running about like a wild cat.

4. But firecrackers. Oh, they took a blow! You see Peaches is mighty scared of anything even remotely suggesting of unexpected sounds. So we had to cut back on the light and sound pomposity a bit. Although, we found ourselves exploding every time someone burst those annoying Laxmi bombs, saying sentences that began with, " Aaj kal ke bacche na...". And then pretending we didn't just say that.

Yet, there are still a few traditions to keep.

5. Of wishing everyone in our dispersed family over two continents before we set about our business of playing dress up and posing for pictures.

Those Floral Lights...Through 4 Years

6. Of doing a near-perfect Laxmi Pujan with all the mindful attention to details. This happens to be Saanvi's favourite part of Diwali right now. We sing the Laxmi aarti, we eat the prasad heartily and then go downstairs and act like the wild, party people that we are; only to return home in the next 15 minutes with screeching loud wails coming from a pixie-like creature and someone complaining of shoulder pain. (Not going to say who.)

7. And this year, I've come up with a new tradition. Of recounting the tale of Diwali to my kid/s every year and inviting any questions that they may have on the significance of the rituals that we follow. That bewitching, remarkable feat of good over evil is surely enough to make you realize that if you're true to your heart, life can stun you with the most unfathomable victories.

So before we shut our eyes to the glistening candles of Diwali this year, whether it is lost somewhere in the memories of an ideal holiday of a big happy family or in trivial pursuits of keeping up with our mundane livelihoods, we remind ourselves, "Darkness to light...Good over evil. Always..."