Column

Much as it is correct and right for all of us to be against the mass and crass blowing up of money during Diwali and bemoan these sleepless nights and groan about noise and air pollution - what the heck, I love it. And, even without being needless sentimental, I can honestly say that Diwali has become a lot less noisy than it was in my childhood. I remember when chocolate bombs were invented every kid in my building - even the goody-girly girls - fought with their parents for more.

So also for some rocket thingie that exploded in the air and a plastic parachute descended parachute. Only the richies could afford that, so supply was short. My mother ordered our stack from two sisters who supplied speciality stuff. They had started a Diwali firecracker business after their father the breadwinner had died. Our social consciousness ended there.

In any case, the building I lived in had community Diwali fire cracker sessions. As the malis cried, enormous asbestos (gasp, horror, shock, please) sheets were laid out on the enormous lawns and we collected in groups for joint festivities. Some wicked children (boys) crept about the flats where the most goody-girly girls lived (oh, the noise is horrible, I’m sooooo frightened, I’m not coming down) and chucked little bombs under their front door. All were presumably literally or figuratively spanked, but to the rest of us they became heroes. The goody girlies never spent another Diwali in our building. We did not care.

Some wickeder children (big boys) aimed rockets into the houses of people they didn’t like and when they did it to the building secretary, Diwali was almost cancelled the next year. Even we hero-worshippers knew that that was stupid. Since everything was shared, no one knew who had brought how much. We shared and shared alike. Okay, not with the goody-goodies. The noise was deafening and when we finished someone else started. Inter-building rivalry could lead to quite a bit of noise.

Sure, there were sick, old, tired, pregnant people around and sure we all knew that our pets hated it, but in those more innocent times we were more callous without realising it.

So now, I’m all politically correct and in favour of no fireworks made by children to be used, banning the bomb, stopping vulgar displays of money going up in smoke, joint neighbourhood displays and lots of
brotherly love.

But brothers, it’s Diwali, maybe a little fun is allowed?