Saturday 17 October 2009

Bah, humbug

You can’t help but wonder how your life could possibly get any worse when you spend Diwali all by yourself mechanically swallowing an insipid breakfast of oat-porridge and milk. I have turned off my mobile phone and shut myself indoors, in the hope that solitude will provide some sort of solace. It doesn’t, and for the fourth consecutive year in a row, Diwali is spent longing for home.

My first trip to the ‘Pataaki Bazaar’ in Jayanagar came two months after my sixth birthday. Grandpa, a far cry from his usual grouchy self, decided it was time he introduced his grandson to the thrills of atom bombs, rockets and bijlis. True to our TamBram roots, we stayed off 12th Main Road to avoid the ghastly sight of KP Butcher Shop (Estd. 1932) and the lambs and goats that hung from its ceilings . The market was no more than a kilometre away from where we lived, though the aforementioned detour nearly doubled the distance.

The trip soon became an annual ritual- year after year, Grandpa and I would set off to the market on the eve of Diwali, with the day’s Hindu for company. While I mentally conjured a shopping list of sorts, Grandpa spent much of the journey cavilling about the downward spiral the country was on. For its part, the Indian political establishment seldom let him down, with one scam or the other taking up much of The Hindu’s dull frontpage time and again.

On D-day, every kid in the neighbourhood gathered at the courtyard with his booty. There was a lot of pride at stake, with each kid vying for top spot in the race for arms. Once the fireworks began, though, there wasn’t a sound to be heard apart from the booms of Sivakasi-made gunpowder. For the next two hours, one hundred eyes looked up to the skies in unison admiring the spectacular barrage of rockets, aerial bombs and whatnot. The rigmarole of daily life somehow seemed to take a backseat for those two wonderful hours. Even Grandpa didn’t seem too worried about the future of Indian democracy any more.

The rockets will light up the Bangalore sky once again tonight. For the twelfth successive Diwali, I will be elsewhere.

13 comments:

Shrey said...

I stayed in Roorkee on Diwali during my first year and hated it. But I wasn't lonely even then. My early Diwalis were spent cowering under a blanket from the sound of crackers that filled the night, hoping to be left alone. I guess you really should be careful what you wish for.

Chronoz said...
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Raghav said...

Dhilla Annaaa... I was sharing the same anger and frustration as you, and watched thillu mullu for some solace. Bangalore, with its evening october chill on the one hand, and the warmth and festivity of a plethora of crackers on the other is paradise.
Yet another dimension of it is getting up at 4 on the Deepavali morning, waking up people bursting the 100-walahs, the Deepavali marundhu, okkarai, sweets from a dozen houses...
I agree with the above maddu, we could watch a maddu movie :) Thalaivar's movie :)

Raghav said...

And yes, the mess offers a sumptuous banquet on Diwali night: 2 bananas, an apple, a son papdi and a kachori. Sigh! Sigh again!

Soin said...

first time i stayed away from home and it sucks man.. whatever happens will get home for diwali atleast i guess..free

Anonymous said...

I only stayed back in my fourth year. Diwali in Delhi rocks! Living on the top floor has its advantages. Like having the terrace all to yourself. In cleaner, better times, it was the ideal spot to set up a telescope. But it served us well each Diwali. Unrestricted access to the skies.
Well, I will not be seeing those semi-Stygian skies for some time. And it is just too foggy here to enjoy the 'festive season' (read a bland Thanksgiving and a puerile Halloween).

Anonymous said...

sir you can at least think that its the last with mess-y oat-porridge and milk...
happy diwali from my side..

Anunaya Jha said...

Dela!
This is really horrid! I am feeling so bad! Geez..
And you know.. next year, you should definitely be at home.

And now that I have vented my emotional ire, Here's wishing you a very happy, though belated, Diwali!

Hope to read a post next year about how you had fun with your grandpa..

Like I did yesterday!

The Decayed Canine said...

Dude! Diwali in Roorkee is depressing as hell. But I miss that too... Enjoy it while it lasts.

Murty said...
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Murty said...

I somehow always figured you'd follow in Tejo's footsteps some way or another. Didn't figure it'd be this way. I have a long way to go before I start figuring you people out.

Amit... said...

If I had been in your place, I would have been a bit more happy to realize that Diwali marks the advent of grand festive season. Add winters to it, and you've got the recipe for a perfect end to the year. There are loads of special occasions that'll follow, and surely you'll fair better than locking yourself alone in the room.

Saagar said...

12th consecutive, huh
If my maths is correct, that would mean 1998 onwards. Leaving aside the Bahrain years, you were in Chennai for several Diwalis, right? They didn't celebrate Diwali well in Madduland?
My sympathies otherwise. I can guess that a lonely Diwali can be a sad sad thing.