24 hours of costume changes and loud laughs, then preserving it all in the perfect group selfie

Indian film endings routinely display their festive roots. All misunderstandings cleared, whole families in matching gaudy attire, and everyone rotating a sparkler clockwise. We all carry the Diwali gene. And we want a big festival, a festival we deserve, a festival that’s larger than life, king-size. A day of revelries, 24 hours of pure joy, when life is one large laddoo. Music, costume changes, loud laughs and ras malai till the eye can see. Your basic Karan Johar Diwali.

A benevolent beaming takes over. Happiness is contagious, it’s a festival disease. Christmas, Eid, Diwali…every occasion a chance to renew or resurrect. We are that firework in the sky, a mithai in the mouth. We’ve sent our location to the goddess of wealth; Lakshmi will be here any minute. On this day women don’t flinch when they hear words like fuljhari and pathaka. The house is squeaky clean, like Lady Macbeth’s hand. Walls are painted, furniture replaced, the mop thrust into unreachable spots. You’ve auditioned for Ramleela and have been picked to be a part of the vanar sena, just like last year.

’Tis the season of gifts – though most of us give away what we just got and do not like. A case of the left hand very much knowing what the right hand is doing. What really must be banned during Diwali sales are those useless, smirking candles that everyone receives and must now get rid of. One presents a lavender candle only to be handed a vanilla one. Perhaps the solution is to keep the one you have, thus breaking the cycle.

We want our life to be that picture-perfect moment of homecoming, after being out in the wilderness for far too long. Surrounded by friends and family, everyone smiling, a feeling of victory and the world lit up like there is no electricity bill to pay. And though we know life doesn’t stop there, that bad stuff can follow the group selfie we just posted, we do have this moment to preserve on Insta. As we go about life grimly, getting this degree and that job, falling for the wrong person, sandwiched between kids and parents both equally bratty, all we want in our life is one Diwali. Someone to stuff you with sweets without asking if you are diabetic, as you play cards and gamble away your ancestral home.

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