Celebrity Column: Happy Diwali, writes Ayushmann Khurrana

Diwali is always at home with parents. My mom and dad are well-versed with Laxmi puja, but my brother and I fumble every single year, even though we read through those vintage religious booklets. The situation becomes very funny. There are incessant bursts of laughter at this annual ritual. Since it’s a yearly exercise, we’ve never got a hang of it. But nostalgia brings out the best in us, bringing the family together. We were never big on firecrackers, as my brother had a major accident during Diwali in our childhood. So, firecrackers have been banned at our home in Panchkula since 1996, way before the Supreme Court announced the ban. Better late than never. The next-day smog is such a common thing in the North. Delayed flights, lower visibility, asthma-inducing conditions. Sigh. Also, the pictures in the newspapers of the victims who get injured due to firecrackers.

I always miss the newspaper the next day and on all the holidays. The pages are plastered with advertisements of electronics more than the actual news, but you still miss the feel of the newsprint when you don’t see a newspaper on a public holiday. You want to just go through the discounts on TV sets and cars even if you don’t want to buy anything. I still do that. The middle-class idiosyncrasies don’t give me space. My wife gives me more space than this age-old mentality, which I’m clinging to. Though we were quite well to do, my parents gave us a very middle-class upbringing. Diwali was the only time of the year when my dad would give me his car keys to distribute Diwali gifts. I had turned 18 and I took my friend Ankur Vyas along for this amazing exercise of gift distribution. Chandigarh has clean, smooth roads and it’s the best place to drive in our country. And with Diwali around the corner, the sweet nip in the air just begins to knock.

Apart from firecrackers, I could never understand the fuss about playing cards as well. Even cards are banned at my place. So, whenever I go for card parties, I’m the odd one out sitting alone in a corner listening to some soul-stirring music with the earphones on. The visuals of cards session are just the antithesis of my playlist. It’s very therapeutic to watch people devote so much energy to cards. Am I becoming less tolerant to an obsession with cards or crackers? I don’t know. Maybe. As I’m growing old, I’m becoming more like my dad or a slightly better version of him. Like my son is my version 2.0, who looks better than me, is slightly more creative for his age, and understands musical chords at five. He reminds me of my childhood. I’m writing this column from my hometown sitting on my study table, and it still gives me the heebie-jeebies of my exam days. Last minute prep. Just like I missed the Monday deadline for my column, I missed a lot of chapters and did selective studies in school and college.

This Diwali, I also think about my grandfather, who passed away three months ago. This is the first Diwali post his demise. He was the flag-bearer of our Laxmi puja. And he will be missed. I remember giving him a bath post his death, it seemed his calm, lifeless body blessed me when I did that. I performed every ritual and last rite with all my heart and responsibility. My kith and kin believed for the first time that I’ve grown up now. Else they’ve always treated me like the kid of the house. I firmly believe it’s my grandfather’s blessings, which gave me a good fortune at the box office this year. He will be terribly missed. But the plan is to move forward and celebrate this Diwali to the fullest. He was 90 when he took his last breath. He led a good life. Had a crazy sweet tooth. Loved Indian sweets. Just like I do. Okay then, it’s time for some sweet distribution, my father has given me his car keys, the winter has set in. My friend Ankur Vyas has moved to Chicago now. So do you want to join me for a drive?