festive freak


Dear Diary

It’s October, and the jubilance inside me is on the rise. There’s a blanket of merriment waiting to be used as cover from the mundaneness of the formulaic life, and Ican’t wait to delve in the joy this wave has to offer once again. Yes, the wave of festivities.

My account starts off with the month of March and the colourful palate it brings to the happy souls. The shades of pleasure people indulge in; from the assortment of colours flying around, the idea of losing consciousness to the warmth of bhaang and dance, and the consequent struggle of removing the memoirs of Holi from the skin, the pure exhilaration! After a period of few months arrives the flagship festival of familial bond, Rakshabhandan. I never liked the concept of the tying of thread on the brother’s wrist to legitimize his ability to protect us, and proudly, today we are on the road where the nought of the thread is similar on a sister’s wrist too. Festivals are capable of evolution, and Rakshabandhan is proof of a constructive one.

With pomp and excitement, next comes the celebration of Durga Pujo, and oh, the wonders it has to offer. The extravagance is unparalleled, canvassing the plethora of delicacies to lavish upon, the cultural aura which subsumes people from all corners, and the mesmerising combination of songs and lights which gives life to every soul entering the lengths of the gala; an ethereal account, indeed! Come October and lights start going up in homes, illuminating the streets. There’s something magical about the weeks leading up to the main day of Diwali; with families going on house-cleaning frenzies, strategizing the placement of candles and diyas, giving in to the temptation of a motley of mitthais, the eagernessto wearethnic entourages, and many more are the modalities of a traditional Diwali celebration!

With the jingles of Christmas and the happiness of a New Year around the corner, it is customary to indulge in a vortex of introspection about our actions. It pains me to think of the harm we spill in the name of these festivals: the sheer water wastage and the incessant burning of crackers which escalate the pollution levels.

I am scared. Scared to think of the day when even I, a festive freak you may call me, will fail to revel in the delight and exuberance.


Saumya Kalia


Image Credits: Pics Story