Although I’m not big on festivals or the stories behind them, I do love the happiness they bring into people’s lives all of a sudden. However, this Diwali, there was no real “feel” of Diwali. Other than calling everyone and wishing Happy Diwali on phone, emails and ecards, there’s nothing much I could do. Dussehra too went by without lights and no new clothes.
For the first time in my life, my house back home was dark on Diwali. Last Diwali, there was a huge celebration and I felt immense pleasure as it was going to be my last Diwali at my parents’ place. It held special importance and had a different feeling.
Back in India, back home, there must have been such great celebrations! But here in Singapore (or I guess anywhere abroad), the peculiar feeling that you get during a festive time is missing.
I miss reading the newspapers which state that Diwali is getting hazardous each year. I miss the racket created by kids on street especially in the afternoon with their pistols. Though am not the type of person who would enjoy Diwali by bursting crackers, and bombs, and a 1000 ladi, I miss all the noise this year, the discussion in the house as to how they should keep it down and light more diyas instead of crackers.
I have always loved looking at decorated houses, some with fiery lights, some with candles, lanterns, rangolis and diyas. An open yard with a garden around our home gave us enough space to draw huge rangolis. Recently, we even had competitions in our colony for the best designed Rangoli.
At home, Diwali would mean cleaning up the house, dressing up in new clothes, arranging the candles and diyas and decorating the house. While my dad was still working, he used to get a lot of gifts from his office during this time. So everyday I used to wait for him to come home with bated breath. What would he get today. Sometimes, there were delicious chocolates, sometimes, home decor items, other times, some utensils, appliances. I remember one year he even got a DVD player and what excitement that was!
This year am missing Diwali, am missing India, am missing home. I miss the smell of smoke that comes on igniting bombs and other crackers. I miss the beautiful houses. I haven’t even received any Diwali messages in my in-box 😦
Well, I have fussed enough about missing home, though I must mention that I did have the company of my parents and husband to celebrate. Mom had even got the sweets, gifts, rangolis, diyas and lantern. But it still wasn’t the same as back home. I guess the context and atmosphere was missing.