Let me take you back in time by some 20 years. Those were the time we used to countdown to diwali at least some 40 days before Deepavali (Diwali, as called by us) day.
“The first of the “getting-readies” being getting our new clothes stitched. In my small town, there is this tailor my father has patronized and he is the “Reid & Taylor” of our town. Getting clothes stitched from him is something like getting it done directly by Giovanni "Gianni" Versace. He stops taking orders 15 days before Deepavali because of delivery pressures. Only my father has the privilege of giving his clothes for stitching to him 3 days before and he promptly gives it back on time for Deepavali though our stiched clothes come home at least 10 days before. All through these 10 days, trying them once (without spoiling the so called crease) is an everyday ritual we gladly follow.
Next is buying the “phatakas”. During the budget session, I fight with my dad for a budget of Rs 300 allocated for my crackers and my father refuses saying that’s too much. (Remember, that’s quite a lot of money some 20 years back and we could even challenge the Koreans with the quantity of explosives it could buy). But when we have actually gone to the shop to buy them, my dad ended up buying cracker for around Rs 500 (& that could ban us under possession of weapons of mass destructions these days).
Now the sweet part…. A town hall meet is called to decide on the sweets & Kaara my mom needs to prepare. The possible candidates have sweets like Mysore pak, Rava Laadu, Boondhi Laadu, Cashew Burfi, Coconut Burfi, Jelebi, Jaangiri, Gulab Jaamoon and kaaras like ribbon pakoda (or tape as it’s called in some parts), Murukku, Kaara boondhi, Mixture, etc. We need to vote for 2 of each and believe me my mom prepares the best of sweets and kaaras (it’s not the “getting seasoned to one’s mother’s cooking” thing). And the whole process starts with the preparation of “Deepavali laegiyum” (which ensures nothing happens to you due to over eating and some of my cousins over eat these laegiyum itself) followed by the preparation of the voted sweets and kaaras.
On the eve of Deepavali, mom puts a spot of turmeric on all our new clothes. The scent of the new clothes mixed with the whiff of turmeric is something I cannot explain in mere words; it’s heavenly. My sister gets “marudaani” (Mehndi) done on her hands and I used to get it done till I realized one day that’s not boyz stuff. Of course, we sample the crackers before hitting the bed. I then doze off with a great feeling of coming within hours reach from laying my hands on the new clothes, crackers, sweets and kaaras. At 0430 my mom wakes us up while preparing the breakfast and all the things required for the pooja (I am the last one to get up in our 4 members family). My dad literally drags me out of my bed with an “atom bomb” (the green threaded stuff which could tear your ear drums off) in his hand. My dad now makes the atom bomb safer for me by removing the paper from the tip as to make the fire reach the cracker slowly) and hands over the ‘mattipaal’ (a thick agarbatti) to me. My sleep continues till the fire stick is handed over to me and all of a sudden my face brightens up as I realize “It’s Deepavali”. That first bomb normally serves as the wake up call for our neighbors and my dad takes me inside the house after 2 or 3 of them, telling me we will burst them later.
Mom puts a lot of oil on my head which normally starts with making 7 dots of oil on my thigh (something to do with traditions and so I am not getting into the why’s of that) which I count aloud and along. After bathing, we row up in the Pooja room and I eagerly look forward for my new, fresh, crisp and the most favorite (as of that day and for another week) outfit in my hands as I can now wear them for more than the trial 5 minutes. We, now in our new clothes, have our special breakfast which normally has Idly, Vada, Kesari, Pongal, Sambar, Coconut Chatni and the special sweet of the day. After my breakfast, I go out on to the street for a roll call while my mom’s preparing for the lunch. This walk is something close to the ramp walk as I exhibit my new outfit to my peers (and I wonder how my costume turned out to be the best, always). By the time I get back, my father’s ready with his scooter and I get in front through his hands while my mom and sister take the pillion (Indian efficiency) for our trip to the temple near by. By the time we are back, the entire neighborhood has finished bursting their crackers and going on their final ‘tip’s and ‘tap’s with the dots. We get into the house to change into our “cracker” suit (some old wear on which we don’t mind getting the spark marks) as we need to wear our new attire to school on our first working day after Deepavali. Now it’s show time. We get onto the street as lone warriors & start bursting our crackers while the over enthusiastic neighbors who have finished their stock could do nothing but watch our solo performance. Man, I feel I am the most powerful person on earth as the entire street has turned into our envious spectators. When I get tired of my free spectators, I get into the house, wash and get ready for a sumptuous meal my mom has prepared. That would be a 5 course meal with a-z sub courses. Now it’s time to receive some guests and exchange sweets. At about 4 we start getting ready for the evening show and it ends up with a nice little dinner. When the day gets over, I retire with heavy heart (“gonna miss something precious” types) as I have to wait for another 365 days before I could get another day like this”.
All I do these days is to get up (probably at 8 being a holiday), have my coffee and lock myself in front of the idiot box watching all the “gr8” interviews by stars of the tinsel town, watch the “first time in the history of small screens” movie and push the day through.
Man, where have those beautiful, innocent days gone? I hope to repeat my childhood Deepavali at least once in the coming years.
Anyway, I wish you all a very happy & safe Diwali.
“The first of the “getting-readies” being getting our new clothes stitched. In my small town, there is this tailor my father has patronized and he is the “Reid & Taylor” of our town. Getting clothes stitched from him is something like getting it done directly by Giovanni "Gianni" Versace. He stops taking orders 15 days before Deepavali because of delivery pressures. Only my father has the privilege of giving his clothes for stitching to him 3 days before and he promptly gives it back on time for Deepavali though our stiched clothes come home at least 10 days before. All through these 10 days, trying them once (without spoiling the so called crease) is an everyday ritual we gladly follow.
Next is buying the “phatakas”. During the budget session, I fight with my dad for a budget of Rs 300 allocated for my crackers and my father refuses saying that’s too much. (Remember, that’s quite a lot of money some 20 years back and we could even challenge the Koreans with the quantity of explosives it could buy). But when we have actually gone to the shop to buy them, my dad ended up buying cracker for around Rs 500 (& that could ban us under possession of weapons of mass destructions these days).
Now the sweet part…. A town hall meet is called to decide on the sweets & Kaara my mom needs to prepare. The possible candidates have sweets like Mysore pak, Rava Laadu, Boondhi Laadu, Cashew Burfi, Coconut Burfi, Jelebi, Jaangiri, Gulab Jaamoon and kaaras like ribbon pakoda (or tape as it’s called in some parts), Murukku, Kaara boondhi, Mixture, etc. We need to vote for 2 of each and believe me my mom prepares the best of sweets and kaaras (it’s not the “getting seasoned to one’s mother’s cooking” thing). And the whole process starts with the preparation of “Deepavali laegiyum” (which ensures nothing happens to you due to over eating and some of my cousins over eat these laegiyum itself) followed by the preparation of the voted sweets and kaaras.
On the eve of Deepavali, mom puts a spot of turmeric on all our new clothes. The scent of the new clothes mixed with the whiff of turmeric is something I cannot explain in mere words; it’s heavenly. My sister gets “marudaani” (Mehndi) done on her hands and I used to get it done till I realized one day that’s not boyz stuff. Of course, we sample the crackers before hitting the bed. I then doze off with a great feeling of coming within hours reach from laying my hands on the new clothes, crackers, sweets and kaaras. At 0430 my mom wakes us up while preparing the breakfast and all the things required for the pooja (I am the last one to get up in our 4 members family). My dad literally drags me out of my bed with an “atom bomb” (the green threaded stuff which could tear your ear drums off) in his hand. My dad now makes the atom bomb safer for me by removing the paper from the tip as to make the fire reach the cracker slowly) and hands over the ‘mattipaal’ (a thick agarbatti) to me. My sleep continues till the fire stick is handed over to me and all of a sudden my face brightens up as I realize “It’s Deepavali”. That first bomb normally serves as the wake up call for our neighbors and my dad takes me inside the house after 2 or 3 of them, telling me we will burst them later.
Mom puts a lot of oil on my head which normally starts with making 7 dots of oil on my thigh (something to do with traditions and so I am not getting into the why’s of that) which I count aloud and along. After bathing, we row up in the Pooja room and I eagerly look forward for my new, fresh, crisp and the most favorite (as of that day and for another week) outfit in my hands as I can now wear them for more than the trial 5 minutes. We, now in our new clothes, have our special breakfast which normally has Idly, Vada, Kesari, Pongal, Sambar, Coconut Chatni and the special sweet of the day. After my breakfast, I go out on to the street for a roll call while my mom’s preparing for the lunch. This walk is something close to the ramp walk as I exhibit my new outfit to my peers (and I wonder how my costume turned out to be the best, always). By the time I get back, my father’s ready with his scooter and I get in front through his hands while my mom and sister take the pillion (Indian efficiency) for our trip to the temple near by. By the time we are back, the entire neighborhood has finished bursting their crackers and going on their final ‘tip’s and ‘tap’s with the dots. We get into the house to change into our “cracker” suit (some old wear on which we don’t mind getting the spark marks) as we need to wear our new attire to school on our first working day after Deepavali. Now it’s show time. We get onto the street as lone warriors & start bursting our crackers while the over enthusiastic neighbors who have finished their stock could do nothing but watch our solo performance. Man, I feel I am the most powerful person on earth as the entire street has turned into our envious spectators. When I get tired of my free spectators, I get into the house, wash and get ready for a sumptuous meal my mom has prepared. That would be a 5 course meal with a-z sub courses. Now it’s time to receive some guests and exchange sweets. At about 4 we start getting ready for the evening show and it ends up with a nice little dinner. When the day gets over, I retire with heavy heart (“gonna miss something precious” types) as I have to wait for another 365 days before I could get another day like this”.
All I do these days is to get up (probably at 8 being a holiday), have my coffee and lock myself in front of the idiot box watching all the “gr8” interviews by stars of the tinsel town, watch the “first time in the history of small screens” movie and push the day through.
Man, where have those beautiful, innocent days gone? I hope to repeat my childhood Deepavali at least once in the coming years.
Anyway, I wish you all a very happy & safe Diwali.
