A Diwali Wish

I am not crazy about Diwali anymore. Perhaps age breeds a certain kind of wariness and weariness around celebrations. But somehow, this time, I want to be in a large terrace with a huge plate of earthen diyas—oil and wick-ready and I wish all of you were here with me, helping light these diyas, one flame to another, and line them in close bunches through the edges of this terrace, this terrace called Earth.

Come, let us line these diyas through the lush fields where rice and wheat and pulses sway in laughter, through fields now overwhelmed with floods, up into a farmer’s house and light one in her broken heart, and then run towards parched soils and desert spirits and light one for hope, and climb up the mountains to light a bunch for the mules of Uttarakhand who were forgotten and left starving, down through homes with no roofs and sometimes no walls.

Then let us run over marbled floors and up the staircases of our political leader’s homes and light one in their living room for wisdom and land into corporate leaders’ balconies and light some for compassion.

Let us now make our way to the trembling sea waters, now with an oil slick, now with some chemical residues, and now with plastic garbage and set afloat a million lamps on his waters.

Finally let us return to the centre of this Earth, to this terrace, to our own hearts and light a bunch inside for clarity. Celebrating with you now in spirit. Happy Diwali!