Saturday, October 25, 2008


Or in short Diwali is a festival of lights. It represents the victory of the good over the evil. It is celebrated every where with zest. There are different traditions associated with the celebration that vary across countries and across religions. But none of the us in our village had celebrated Diwali for last 7 years. Today was the night of Diwali and everything was dead quiet. Except for the chirping of birds and a cry emanating from the house. A cry we had heard for last 7 years. A cry that would not let us even think about celebrating Diwali.

He had been their only child. It was a Diwali day and he had gone to the city to buy crackers for the entire village. It was a custom to send best behaved child to the city to buy the fireworks. But misfortune had struck. They had met with an accident and even though all of them had survived the child had succumbed to the injuries. That was 7 years ago. The child was the darling of the village and every Diwali had reminded us of the loss of a son, loss of a friend and a loss of countless other emotions.

Then through the window I could see a man running as fast as he could to the village elder's house. What had happened this time? Did the curse of Diwali strike again? I ran outside. Then the man and the village elder were briskly moving towards the village outskirts. I began running to keep up with them but remaining out of site lest the fear of anger.

It was a site that would have a great impact on me. There he was, another child who was sitting there happily. He was lonely but was not afraid, alone but not crying. The village elder and the man were asking him questions about his identity. But he did not say anything. He just smiled. In one of his hands were stones he must have been playing with and in the other was a pack of crackers.

The parents of the deceased were called outside. Upon looking at the site the mother grabbed the child. It was as if she had recognized him. Every one in the village were looking at the scene with tears in their eyes and smiles. Then for the first time after 7 years the village heard the sound of the crackers.

They said he had the same birth mark as the deceased child. This child too had become the darling of the village.

1 comment:

sagar said...

ummh.. my childhood frnd . he used to wake up early in the morning the day after diwali .. and start collecting the unburned, 'fusake','waat nasalele' crackers on the road before someone swipe the use them on that evening..somehow manages to make it explode wit extra 'vaat', anything ...and in that process one day he got his hand and eyebrow burned badly....this is 90% real diwali memory for me :D