Celebrity column: Diwali ka diwala! writes Sajid Khan

I’m not leftist or rightist, nor am I uppist or downist. None of these words really make sense but I’m sure you get my point. I love crackers as much as I hate noise pollution. Much as I would like to enjoy a noise-free Diwali, a Diwali without crackers would be like a Hindi film without songs. Again, I’m not taking sides here. I’m just saying we’re on a stupid (for the lack of a better word!) mission to ban. Month by month, more and more things are being banned. What will it be next? A colour-less Holi? A kheer-less Eid? A tree-less Christmas? Chalo, in sab issues mein nahi padte hai.

When we were kids, way back in the ’80s, our entire goal in life, was to get the best patakhas available. Whether it was the rocket bomb, which would fly up in the air and explode, or the more expensive parachute rocket, which would explode in the air and a chhota sa parachute would come down. Then, there was the sursuree which was the more advanced cousin of a gol chakri. The sursuree would basically make a whistling noise, while being lit, and take off at 900 kilometres per hour. Then, there were the hand bombs aka gareebo ka grenade. They looked exactly like chocolates wrapped in silver foil, but were great fun to throw at each other. The boys were never interested in sparklers or anars, as we always felt they were docile.

The main attraction for Diwali nights used to be, to stand outside a rich person’s house who could show-off their wealth, by lighting the 10,000 ladi bombs. The next morning, used to be maximum fun for us as we would go scavenging on the roads, looking for crackers, which were not burnt. The second night would be mini Diwali with the leftovers. Believe it or not, but in college my friend Ricky and I had even started buying and selling crackers. Like most shops, we also approached the factories directly, bought them at cost price, and sold them with a profitable margin, earning anywhere between Rs 5,000-7,000 bucks on Diwali. We decided to expand our enterprise the next year, by going one step ahead, and opening up our own stall. What we did not realise, being young and stupid, that one needed a licence. The moment the hawaaldar came with his danda, we wrapped up our patakhas and ran. Since the factory people refused to take it back, the Diwali of 1990 was the best ever for us, as it took us a complete week to finish off all the crackers ourselves.

I’m sorry, guys, but I CANNOT understand the concept of Diwali without crackers. As Robert Duvall said in Apocalypse Now, “I love the smell of napalm early in the morning.” The smell of firecrackers, the morning after Diwali, may be a nuisance to some, but for many, including me, it is the essence of a loved festival gone by. You decide — Will this year be a Diwali or a diwala, for you?