Sitting here. Deepawali night. Loud sounds of crackers in the air, on the ground in front of the apartment building. Sudden bursts of flowery explosions in the sky. A row of lights on the balcony wall in front of my second floor apartment. Smoke-smell, sweet. Somewhere behind me my cell phone playing Chitra Singh, Dard badhkar. I can’t hear it much in this noise.
She is not here. Last I felt this Deepawali was with amma. Now I am trying to hold myself together amidst this smoke and fire. Doing okay I think. No, not okay. Amma and nanna come to me, sending tears ahead of them to wash away my dirt. Now everyone. Everyone who is no longer. Strange to be still living. Why?
Featured image: Black Knight by Paul Klee, via Wikiart.org
