The holiday!

What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?

“Holidays are about creating cherished memories with loved ones and finding magic in the simplest moments”

Jeremiah Say

Mum used to make special food during the Deepavali holidays. Schools used to let us off for a few days and we used to wake up early in the morning, get oiled, and then have a bath, eat snacks, and then head out to burst crackers. The point of the festivities in our minds, was to be the first one to burst crackers on the street. The oil massage and the bath were just a means to an end. Mum used to get us new clothes for the festival, and this was one festival I found interesting, there were snacks and there were crackers. There were no idols and decorations and puja, which I always found irritating. Maybe it wasn’t the puja itself, but the sitting and waiting for it to be done, before getting to eat the snacks and sweets.

Back in the day, in the first year of marriage, the bride would visit her mother’s house during festivities. Maybe the tradition was just a way to alleviate her feeling of homesickness in the initial year while she took on the challenge of handling a new home and a large joint family. But, during the first year after my marriage, Mum organized something called the ‘Thale Deepavali”, which could be translated as the first Deepavali. She went all out, purchased clothes for everyone, and made sure there were lots of crackers in the house at this time. The oldest sibling and the youngest and relatives from my BIL’s family joined us that year. I did not live with the in-laws or in a joint family. We were a DINK (Double-Income-No-Kids) couple, so the invite to spend the festival with Mum, Dad, the dogs, and the older sibling and BIL and his cousin coming along, promised to be a lot more fun than sitting by ourselves at home. My friend and a couple of my younger siblings’ friends from college also joined us that evening to help burst crackers.

We lived in a cul-de-sac in an independent duplex house. The dogs, Tara and Butch typically spent Deepavali indoors. Behind the house was an estate, filled with coconut trees with a big drain running on one side. As the last house on the street, we parked our vehicles slightly further into the street, so the corner space could be used to burst crackers. It seemed to be the ideal arrangement that year. It started with Mum making lots of Rangolis indoors that year, so she could oil everyone that was there, including cousins, friends, and relatives. Everyone sat, got oiled, and one by one, we all took turns to have a shower. We were eventually done around lunch, after which everyone went back for a nap.

Mum usually purchased the pre-packed boxes of crackers she got from the Advocates Association. And this year, as an exception, since she was expecting relatives and family, she splurged and purchased two boxes of crackers. She thought that was a ‘lot’ of crackers for the family and we would still be left with some to burst in a couple of weeks. Around teatime, everyone re-surfaced and Mum was worried that there would be a lot of crackers left from the big boxes she had purchased. So, she placed the boxes out and sent us all out to get an early start that evening.  

Post tea, all of us dressed in our new clothes, we stepped out to burst a few crackers and the first box got over in less than 30 minutes, which is when we all took a break to come inside and change into more comfortable cotton clothes. I had finished my turn with the crackers so, I chose to sit with the dogs. I’ve never really enjoyed bursting crackers, I don’t mind the flowerpots and the sparklers, but the bombs and rockets I typically abandon as is, so opting to sit with the dogs was no big sacrifice. My spouse, BIL, BIL’s younger cousin and younger sibling, and the friends went crazy with the crackers. The boxes were done by 6 pm and by Deepavali standards, this was too early to stop bursting crackers. In my hometown, crackers are not sold in all shops, specific playgrounds are assigned, tiny booths are set up and crackers are only sold in those specific places. So, off to the ‘allocated grounds,’ they went- cash in hand to purchase more. Different permutations and combinations of relatives, friends, and family must’ve driven to the fields on a few trips that evening, to stock up on more crackers as they went through them like fiends. I spent the entire evening, cuddling and hugging Tara and Butch.

We must’ve burst until almost 11 pm that night, long after everyone in the street had given up and gone in for the evening. I know that I had gone on the last rounds of lighting the lamps around the house around 10 pm and the dogs had come out for a break at that time. Then, as soon as the dogs came back in, they started again, and it went on for an hour. Deepavali is an extremely noisy festival, and no one complains about the noise of crackers at that time. If you are living in an independent house, that’s not part of a gated community, then there are no restrictions on when you start bursting or when you stop in the evening. By the time we were done that evening, there were five more empty boxes of crackers sitting outside. I remember cleaning the street at around 8 pm, because there was so much debris, that the crackers were not even getting lit properly. At 11 pm, once we were done, all of us just went and stood and admired the carpet of paper bits adorning the street. A festival well celebrated! Mum’s grin illuminated her face that evening, she was so happy we were together for this festival.

“Holidays are a reminder that life is meant to be lived, experiences are meant to be cherished, and memories are meant to be made”

Dinner was an active narration of the kinds and colors and sounds of the crackers we had burst that evening. I don’t remember what we ate that evening, I do remember that the oldest sibling and Mum were standing in the kitchen stirring two pots, earlier that day and Dad standing outside the kitchen, smoking his cigarette, and making some inane comments about Mum’s culinary skills. The back and forth, the screaming matches, the arguments, the discussions that ended up sounding like arguments, the dogs barking adding to the chaos, and their wagging tails sweeping things off all surfaces, the energy reverberating through that house, and as the hands of the clock slowly inch closer to midnight, the eventual silence, filled with so many happy memories, the whispers slowly fading into the night. Deepavali that year was the ‘holiday’ of holidays. The one I remember for all time. Because that was the time, when everyone I cared for, was under the same roof, doing the one thing we were all good at, celebrating together.