Grief vs Diwali

Festivals are weird when you're grieving.

The world's celebrating. You're not.

You probably want to. But can't.

It's never the big things like bursting crackers that get to you. It's the ones so miniscule to notice that you normally take them for granted.

You remember shamelessly demanding your envelope. They refused, and you walked away like you didn't care about Rs 51. They'd call you back 20 minutes later, and spend 15 more minutes trying to make you take it with your right hand. Because apparently god's pissed with your left.

You remember the gift they slid with it, generally a deodorant or chocolate that they'd spent a considerable amount of time packing shabbily. But you didn't seem to care, because it was a sweet gesture.

You remember how they fussed over the flower arrangement, and you reluctantly changed it because it made them happy.

You remember how they insisted on taking random family pictures every year, when no one looked picture-ready, least of all them.

You remember their passion, which shone brighter than the lights.

You remember a time when Diwali felt like Diwali.