Happy Diwali Ji

So everyone has sent me a message. Well almost everyone. And everyone has wished me a happy diwali. I must say I have always been a bit confused about Diwali. Being a Bong, the Good for Evil celebrations should have been done by Dussera and as we wished Shubho Bijoya to each other we knew that peace was restored.

Now Diwali was more of Kali Pujo as I grew up in Calcutta. We burst the crackers, saw the really random dance steps at the immersion of Kali idols and accepted the fact that during this time someone will get drunk and sing on the streets. It was like a ritual. Someone had to get drunk late into the night and next day spend the hours saying sorry to the elders in our para. I think it was an accepted fact that some people will get drunk at Kali Pujo. So it was probably the only time, mom and dad asked me to be careful while I roamed around the streets.

The happiest memory of those days was that of counting the crackers that were bursting outside my house and slowly going off to sleep. It seemed as if somewhere outside, far far away, a hero was fighting a grim battle. And I dreamt.

I first experienced what Diwali truly meant in Pilani. Whether it was shameful display of money by Student Union Presidential candidates or whether it was the quite anticipation amongst all the men as slowly the gates of Meera Bhawan opened and the women emerged wearing their finest sarees, Diwali in Pilani was magical. But I think no one enjoyed it more than CJ. A true Mallu, he devoured the colours and joys of Diwali with childlike curiosity and I have not seen many enjoy a festival so much. He was more enthused about Diwali than anyone of us in the wing and we would watch the Mallu gang of 2001 walk together, the most well knit group I have ever seen. The best part is Diwali in Pilani was a festival of lights, a festival for everyone to come closer together as everyone missed their homes.

There are other memories and as I write they keep flooding back. Diwali 2002 was the first time when Moruchaya, the Bengali association became an entity by itself. We earned our laurels that Diwali. For the first time, the bongs gathered together to, well to be honest, burn away 1500 rupees of hard earned money. We were small and had way less ammunition when compared to the other groups but that gesture that year announced to everyone, yes we were there. Such is the power of symbolic gestures.

I loved the morning after of Diwali. C’Not would be littered with the remnants of the night before. And I would walk with my camera in my hand clicking the patterns on the ground. It would also be Bhaiphota and my 2 sisters in Pilani would actually take the pains to wake up and meet us in the Saraswati Temple and we would then walk to Blue Moon for an MNB at 11 in the morning.

But the greatest Diwali story is that of 4 young boys undertaking the journey of their lives for food that promised to be exquisite. But that is the story for another day.

These days like everything else, I miss the simplicity in my life which was there even a few years back. I have stopped bursting crackers since a long time and friends typically these days have the means to go back home. Diwali wherever celebrated is more about cards and parties and less about the innocent fun we had when we were young.

But then the Indian spirit for celebrations is infectious. On Diwali, everyone in Mumbai wishes you. And you feel no longer alone as you hear all around you - Happy Diwali Ji.

The Festival of Lights

Ojas had come down to Mumbai on his way back to his home and he made an interesting statement. He said Maharashtra liked to celebrate its festivals over a long period of time. After the week long Diwali Celebrations in Mumbai I guess I agree with him. My Diwali started almost a week back when I was forced to walk half my way back from Dadar as everyone seemed to have gone crazy over shopping. This is a craze I have seen only during Pre Puja shopping in the markets of Gariahaat and Hatibagan in Calcutta. And Mumbai almost matched the insanity. Due to unfortunate incidents that make almost everyone ask, “Whose Mumbai is it anyway?” few of the days saw almost all shops down their shutters, Shivaji Park always being in the centre of news these days for all the wrong reasons.

In fact, on the day everyone advised people to stay back at home, I decided to walk around Mahim and Shivaji Park just to figure out the pulse of the city and the pulse was throbbing with pain over lost sales on a day that was perfect otherwise for shopping.

We had a small wing get together at the TIFR campus and I realized how badly I miss the campus life. Lying down after lunch under the shades of a tree on a beautiful lawn transferred me back into time, to a terrestrial green sky I had left behind. Opening your eyes after a good afternoon siesta to a vast expanse of the ocean can do wonders to your spirit, battered from the daily travels in local trains in order to plug in your laptops and fight for market share. And to see Kishor and Ojas still have their craze for Rubick’s cube makes me want to smile. And remember.

While we sat on the rocks in the evening, the fireworks went up from Navinagar. The army had rung in Diwali and when the rockets burst over the sea without the city skyline blocking your view, you can feel an exhilarating sense of belonging, even though Diwali might not be the most important festival for the part of the country you come from.

Even though The Times of India is known for Mumbai Mirror more than anything else, I think they should be given credit for organizing some of the best free concerts in the city. On Sunday night, Times Diwali Festival hosted U. Srinivasan and Shivkumar Sharma for a concert at Bandra Fort. Just like Kochi Fort has no fort, Bandra also has no Fort but with lights adorning the trees and flowers strewn on the paths, the atmosphere does make you forget that you are in Mumbai. And Of course, the crowd is much more down to earth than the usual NCPA crowd.

The night before Diwali something nice happened. I was walking in the middle of nowhere. There was a huge traffic condition that I had left behind and there was no way a bus or a cab would come along. I was also too near my house for any self respecting Indian cabbie to agree to go. Suddenly however a cab stopped by my side and asked me if I wanted to go to my house. It turned out to be a cab I had used before to go to Dadar. He actually stopped on the way seeing me. It felt nice. They make all sorts of feel good movies for Christmas in Hollywood. Maybe we should do one for Diwali.

It’s Diwali night. The people in my apartment building seem to have been not affected at all by the financial crunch. The amount of sparklers and fire crackers that have been burning outside on the road could very well substitute for my annual income for the next five years. I of course am not complaining. I have drawn aside the curtains of the window and it looks beautiful. Whether you have celebrated Diwali as an invocation to Goddess Laxmi, as the homecoming of Rama to Ayodhya or as the destruction of Narkasur it doesn’t matter. As my grandma used to say, “Let good things happen to everyone- Sobar Bhalo hok”

Afterthought: Why on earth can the societies/ public take responsibility for the general mess that they make with all the debris left behind from the crackers and clean up the streets? In Pilani too people just left things scattered on the road. Would we do it in our own homes?