Diwali and the meanings it hold

Diwali, as we know it, is the most celebrated festival in India. As they say, the reasons fade away, the essence carries itself on. Today, no one really relates to what Lords Ram and Sita did back in time or what special happened in history that the whole country bathes in light this day. Rather, it comes as a reason to celebrate—everyone having their own. Let’s try to sneak peek into the different worlds and the meaning Diwali holds for their inhabitants.  

Kids

Diwali is when they can act as silly as possible without fearing of having their nose broken or getting a good spanking because everyone else is too busy to notice them.

Married women

It’s that time of the year when they get to dress up their best, the time slightly lesser in importance than Karva Chauth. Apart from dressing well, a good part of their or rather their husbands’ fortune is spent in things which no one else would ever had bothered to even look at before­­ – furnishings. In short, they have to change every ‘non-living’ thing which surrounds them because IT’S Diwali.

Married men

Well, their part of the story is typically sad. An old Chinese saying makes me more empathetic with this lot, it is easier said than done being a husband of a happy wife. He would spend the money wherever instructed to, he would carry the shopping bags when his ‘madam’ would happily hop from shops to shops, he would tolerate her bargaining in a grand shopping mall, he would take care of the kids who would show zero sympathy to their dad and would continue to make a monkey of themselves at public places, he would pick her sandals, stoles, hanky, watches and every random thing madam thinks she should not wear while getting henna applied on her hands, he would treat her at a restaurant as a mandatory fee for taking her out and STILL, he would bag seeing frowning faces as an award for marrying a nag and also, for trying to put up with her (let’s not consider the consolation prizes they have ‘earned’ as a part of their initial happy marriage – the kids – who are least bothered anyway). J

The lot that earns but doesn't know where to throw that money off

Well, this one is a bit different. Since they have just stepped into the corporate world and now started hearing money clinking in bank accounts at the end of every month, they don’t think it’s is valid enough to spend a holiday at home because their parents think that way. So, we see a lot of private clubs holding card parties and DJ nights sprouting up in the town.  

Older generation

This one has the saddest story to tell. They have seen the good old times when families used to get together to celebrate and they had a better hold on decision making in the family; when Diwali was rather a religious festival and the primary aspect of it was the ‘puja’ that used to happen at night; when they were the most respected in the family and their position was no less than a PM’s in a country. Now, things have turned rather upside down for them. They think they are as good as pieces of furniture, or even worse – the furniture is still cleaned or taken care of occasionally. The oldest lot looks down on the way Diwali is celebrated now and if it’s a couple, tell each other what they miss the most. Nonetheless, Diwali brings a reason for them to flash back and relive the old Diwalis they have celebrated.

For me

I, undoubtedly, do not belong to any of the lots, for it’s a unique ME. For me, this was a time to try something new, new hairstyle, makeup and pepped-up jewelry, which I would never have done otherwise. Puja, new clothes, bursting crackers and spending quality time with family members was something I got as bonus. In short, I had the time of my life this Diwali. Here are a few pics for you to sneak peek into how my world looked that day.  

A gift I had received from previously a colleague, now a friend - a pearl set.

A fish-style braid I tried to make

That's me. 

Sans the better half

The pain of losing someone close, close enough to quickly forget the loss, is what has engaged my mind all this while. My maternal grandmother (Nani) left for her heavenly abode on 6th of this month. The news was something which we knew was going to float, keeping in view her bad health, but was something which we were never, not at all, prepared to hear.

Writing this blog, as if putting a spell on me, has made me weep silently. Having seen her for a lifetime, I can determinedly say that some part of her is alive in me, and of course, in the people who had met her too frequently to call her an acquaintance. A true sweetheart, she shall stay irreplaceable in my mind; nor do I intend to ever let her memories go off it.  

In all the ceremonies which had to happen post she cashed in her chips, I saw a lot of relatives, who I had seldom seen before, coming, crying, sympathizing, condoling and leaving for their homes—as if doing some formality. I saw distant relatives explaining why the death should not be cried over much, as she was really ill, has left flourishing family behind, had seen three healthy generations or was just old enough to live anymore. I also saw people joining in just to catch up with other relatives and to exchange numbers. This really broke my heart.

 

Despite the overfriendly mannerism of our sweet relatives, I see a person who has been, undoubtedly, affected the most because of what happened to my Nani, my maternal grandfather (Nana)—the man who had spent more than 55 years of his life with this lady. Honestly speaking, I had never seen my Nana publicly cuddling my Nani or showing his affection in any manner out in the sun. For the best part of my life, I believed that my Nana doesn’t love her at all. My mindset, how amazingly, got changed in just four days!

Their bond has been a very queer, yet an interesting one. My Nana has been chronically dependent on my Nani, right from the time when he got married to her, for all the things you could think of. My Nani was literally his right hand. When old age approached both of them, they had this cute way of expressing love to each other, by just being there. One’s aura always helped the other get over any disease, big or small, without much fight.

I could say that they never loved each other, I never saw my Nana running extra mile for my Nani, doing anything which could make her smile, but I now see that the love that they shared was above earthly matters of pleasing or appeasing. The presence of one was love to the other. The feeling that the togetherness will defeat all the problems defined their love. Old age hasn’t been easy on anyone, but standing with a big bat to fight them out together was love to my grandparents. I remember my Nana complaining to me that Nani doesn’t bother to have all her checkups done on time and my Nani saying, ‘Inki mat sun, inko kuch pata nahi hota’…
 

 
Now, standing at this point in his life, I see my Nana the loneliest person on this planet. Fighting with old age alone will be looking heck a big task. I see their love now, more evidently. I see him looking at her bed and losing to some thought process. I see his eyes, as if waiting for some miracle. I see my Nana crying his guts out, giving up to the fact that death defeats all. There’s no big bat to fight this away. I salute their love which was there, invisible to all of us. The love was in togetherness, the love is in the aura.