A THOUGHT FOR DIWALI First time around I had cotton stuffed in my ears It’s been long since, around 31 years Years two and three weren’t fun much You can see, but, “thou shall not touch.” Was given a fuljhadi on year number four That too tied with a long stick tied with a ‘rassi ki dor’ But from there on Diwali celebrations took a nice turn. I celebrated with everyone at K.Gate, now crackers I could burn Would pester baba to get me the loud ones along with lari 6 yrs old young men, were too old to play with phooljhadis First we would burst crackers at K.Gate making a lotta noise Chakris, ladis, bijli bombs, atom bombs, hunter sticks, we were spoilt for choice. Some crackers would swivel around the floor and eventually fall in the narrow gutter. Some would just diffuse, “But hey, I guess it didn’t matter” Soon a voice would announce, “onek hoyechay, cholo taratari” Signal that we’ll all be bundled together and packed off to Kali Bari. While the elderly lot stay inside the temple and hear the priest chant prayer Outside rockets would flit around, here, there everywhere. Joined by other kids, we would up the decibel levels around the temple Fill the air with so much smoke that almost nothing would be visible For us kids, it was all about who burst the most number of crackers Who had the largest ladi, who had bijli bombs and who were the laggards. After hours it was Dinner at Pobitro Kaka’s house for the entire lot. We would wolf down the delicious offering with sharbet, while they were still piping hot At wee hours, say morning 4 or five, almost at the break of dawn We would gather each other, for the long trek back home. We would walk hand in hand, forming small-small clusters The kaka-jethus in one, kaki-mashis-kids in another, as far as I can remember. Dead tired from within, the road ahead looked like a grind. But since we were all together, we just didn’t mind Inhaling all the firework fumes, the smoke and the smog We would look back at the night for what it was Discussing everything from bhaiya dooj to next year’s pujor dress We covered the distance in a jiffy, even 6 kms seemed less. Ecstatic about the next day being a holiday followed by Bhai Phonta. Cos’ afterwards it would be crazy amount of studies and lots of Boka Sigh… things are not the same anymore, times have changed Cooped up inside, watching TV, Diwali does not seem the same. But I wish you all a Happy Diwali, Good Luck, Prosperity and Fame As for me I wish things would turn around and be the same For next year we all walk together hand in hand forming a row. With the kid’s gang ahead, followed my didis with Bubla dada’s group in tow. We would walk sprightly like nothing had changed Nothing, but the addition of few new names. As we would approach the station, we would look where Ravi Mama used to stay Beaming in our hearts that 1/885 is just a hop, skip and a jump away We would all reminisce the past as we’ll pass Tilak Gali’s bend But then we’d console ourselves that all good things come to an end. As we ‘ll get back in our cars, tired to our bones, and head our separate ways. How badly we’ll wish we still had 1/885, even if it was for just one night to stay.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 14:53:53 +0000
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