It is the Festival of Lights once again in India. Diwali is also the time when we do a little puja at home, and my father will write out a detailed review of the past year covering the lives of all of us in the family. It is a tradition that goes back as far as I can remember. Once he is done, we all read it – and in it are the emotions he so rarely shows us otherwise. I always end up being deeply touched at the end of every reading. Maybe, I should start the Diwali Yearbook – so Abhishek can read them when he grows up and see his growing years through the eyes of both his grandfather and his father.
I don’t burst any firecrackers. It wasn’t always the case. As a kid, most Diwalis were spent in Pune and firecrackers were always the cornerstone of the celebrations. I stopped sometime around age 14 or 15 – when in school we were told of how kids like us put their lives at risk to make the firecrackers. Something snapped, and that was the end of the firecrackers at Diwali for me.
The two days of this Diwali will give me good quality time with Abhishek since I will be travelling from November 1 to 9, and miss him on two successive weekends. Today, we are in Pune for a day to celebrate Diwali and be with all my cousins, some who have come from far and wide. In fact, my 85-year-old maternal grandfather’s 11 grandchildren will all be together after probably a decade or more.