Hi everyone. It’s been a while since I last wrote to you. I was in Thailand for one beautifully mad week for a friend’s wedding. In between that, a shoulder injury and the complete lack of will to do anything meaningful I couldn’t write to you. But here I am again, to take 10 minutes from your Sunday morning.
It’s October. There is a cool breeze in the air, summer is bidding its final farewell, and winter has not yet arrived, but has sent its itinerary. There is chaos on the streets of Delhi. It’s beautiful. Neighbourhoods are filled with the chants of ‘Jai Shri Ram ’ (only this time it’s not threatening mobs but the monkey army) at the local Ramleela. C.R. Park is full of ‘Pujo’ celebrations and there is a scattered sprinkling of Dandiya Nights across the city. The joy is inevitable. It's my favourite time in my favourite place. It's time for Diwali in Delhi. No, not even the impending smoke screen, set to descend on the city, choking the life out of us one breath at a time, can take away my happiness, for it is this time, the month leading up to Diwali, that gives me life. This year of all years, I intend to be selfish about it and soak it up. Soak it all up.
In most of the world, October signifies, the end of summer and the onset of autumn. Autumn, with its naked trees and yellow-brown roads, the harbinger of death, barely creates an atmosphere which can be called joyful. Here in India and more specifically Delhi, it’s as if life itself has awoken.
The markets are full of smiling, chattering families. Kids hop from shop to shop excited, as their parents will get them a Diwali gift, with their wallets heavier as usual from the Diwali bonus they have just received. Whether you are getting a small wooden toy, or a fancy gadget as a toy, the joy is tangible.
The streets have their issues in Delhi, not least of which is the street lights which go off and come on as they please, often making them seem like dark dingy alleys, where something ominous lurks at every corner. You can see a tube light on through the windows of houses, like a few scattered fireflies on a moonless night. Then as the evening turns to night, one by one these lights go off, and you know the residents have retreated to their slumber
Come Diwali however, the streets are over pouring with life. Whether or not the street lights work, the alleys are lined by a string of bulbs, put up by the local temple, glowing in a sharp yellow. Nothing is hiding in any dark corners, for there are no dark corners. If that wasn’t enough, each house is decorated with its own lights, like there is a wedding in each house. These decorations tell you about the residents as well. The house with the simple yellow bulbs lined across their balcony probably hosts a couple with no children, or whose children have left the nest. The house with the eccentric blinking lights of different colours probably hosts a young excited boy with no sense of aesthetics (much like myself). Then there is the house which is the odd one out, it doesn’t glow, it doesn’t shimmer, and it doesn’t have any lights on. The house has lost one of its members and as a sign of respect for the lost soul, it refuses to participate in this bright celebration of life. However, having been a part of this house on some occasions, I can say with surety, that while it is only an audience member and not a participant in this show, the house draws strength from its surrounding, almost as if it’s a balm, telling it that no matter how big the loss, life goes on and if we choose, can continue to be a grand celebration.
Families gather. Children who work or study in different parts of the world, return to their delighted parents. Cousins gather for the first time in months. Families, which knew they were complete, feel it in their bones. Families which had a sentiment of emptiness, get reassured, that while not everything is perfect, there are still people who have their back no matter what. For a change the traffic is not just a collection of people, heading back to the daily rigamarole but a gathering of people, going back to something they can look forward to, something they know awaits them with absolute certainty, something they have longed to have in more than short dopamine bursts, something called joy.
Then of course there is the best part about Diwali. The month leading up to it and all the frolic it contains. Every weekend, both Saturday & Sunday and on many weekdays, in the month leading up to Diwali, there is a Diwali party hosted by one of your friends. At times there are even two or three party invites for a single day. These are usually huge gatherings of over 25 people at the very least, all dressed up in ethnic wear, looking their very best. Everyone is truly at their happiest, ready to drink some alcohol, play some cards and dance to both the latest and ‘OG’ Bollywood music. I cannot begin to tell you how much I look forward to these. From July onward, counting the days till the first party kicks in and we can officially welcome the Diwali season. This year, I am even more excited, as even though I will not be playing host (I love playing host), we can finally return to our original scale of parties after two years of the pandemic. What better time to celebrate life and light, after two years of death and darkness? The games of flash or ‘teen Patti’ as it is popularly known along with its numerous variations are not the only things that fill your pockets (or empty them), it's the moments that are created through the night. The funny dance moves, the exciting card hands, the re-telling of such moments from Diwalis of past, but with new reactions, and perhaps new harmless details, in the form of fictitious ‘Mirch masala’, the drunk friend and their antics. Filling your pockets with moments is so much more satisfying than filling them with money.
The reason why I focus on Delhi however, apart from the small fact that I have lived here my entire life, is the fact that emotions run high in Delhi. Just drive on its roads and you will know. You cannot drive without abusing or getting abused. You knick someone's car and they will threaten to beat the living shit out of you, and many times carry the threat out.
At the same time when it comes to showering you with love, Delhiites do not hold back. Go to Old Delhi for some kebabs or Nihari and they serve you with so much love, or you go to someone’s home for the first time, and their entire family surrounds you with warmth (and questions). Delhi operates on only extremes, and that of course has its issues and problems. But if there is a reason Delhi is known for its rage, there is also a reason it is known as “Dil Walon Ki Dilli”.
For a city that only emotes on the extremes, Diwali brings about a month where most of the city is happy and boy when Delhi is happy you can feel it in your veins. The roads are alive and shining bright, families gather together, children come home to their parents, the markets are full and if one just pauses at the right place and the right moment they can see that even the scattered ruins of a city that once was come alive and embrace the city that is. For no one knows better than those original structures, symbolising all that Delhi should be, that no matter how astray you have gone, no matter how far you’ve fallen, Delhi will always embrace those, who seek shelter in its troubled but loving alleys.
As the lights turn on, take a moment to be selfish in this festival symbolised by togetherness. Take a moment, to put your happiness, above your worries, anxieties, stress, grief, loss and uncertainty. For all of these will surely be there once the month passes, but maybe the month leaves you with the strength to tackle them should just embrace the joy in a city that will provide it.
As usual, I leave you with some recommendations:
A show I binge watched- Jamtara on Netflix.
Songs I am listening to Ocean & Gul- Anuv Jain. Honeybee- Goose. Iraaday- Abul Hannan. Na Ja & Duur Se- Umer Farooq.
A poem I wrote last year on Diwali shortly after the second wave:
Once again, thank you for reading.
- Maddhav.D.Kohli
Thanks for capturing a Delhiite's love for the city.
The throbbing n pulse of the pleasant weather n festivities beautifully written.