The simplest foods change the mood inside the mind. Bring alive memories. And sometimes make you long to come back for good. The food pipe is the best route on the map of life! ..
Oh. What I not do for Idli vada?
(at Bangalore, India)
celebration
Happy Deepavali
Happy Deepavali. It is that time of the year to celebrate colour. The colour in our lives. The gripping beauty in the smiles of ordinary people around us. The vivid detail in the mythical even whilst we built current day connections.
The rapture of joy in ordinary lives. The joy that dominates even whilst realising that it is special that gives the ordinary energy to keep moving forward.
There are indulgences of all kinds. Friends find the time to call and talk. Reminiscing the good old times and the strands of hope for the future. The neighbour’s invite for playing cards at their home comes with a promise of a fresh start.
The discounts are on offer. Chasing numbers and opportunity there are advertisements that have out beaten newspapers. It is a festive time you see. If you lived in a Pavlovian world, you will consider talking about salivating dogs. And who doesn’t live in a Pavlovian world? Tolstoy wrote, “All happy families are alike and every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”.
“There is a time and place for everything”, I was told a while back. “Shubh Shubh bolo”, she had said. Yes. It is the time of “Shubh Shubh Bolo”. Let’s stick to that.
So. With Anna Karenina in mind, let us just leave it that every family, happy or unhappy, celebrates its Deepavali in its own way.
It is that time of the year to celebrate colour. To deify the sweet sound of the victory of good over evil and pass some sweets. Even as you pass the sweets around, may I invite you to consider passing some happiness around too. Make some big contribution to someplace and forget about it. Or maybe buy an ice-cream to a slum kid. Or a dress. Too expensive? How about a balloon? Whatever.
After doing all of this, think about how you could do this every month! Or maybe, every week. Why not, every day? As my grandmother used to say, help as much as you can. And when you are done, help some more.
And so, may we soak up much of the Deepavali spirit. May it last long after the festival is done. Let there be a perpetual sparkle in our eyes. May wonder stay.
Happy Deepavali!
Colours, Coin, and a Question
He appeared with a tap on my shoulder, cutting through the jostling crowd at Madurai’s Chithirai Festival. While chaos swirled around us, he stood calm, his face a riot of colour—deep devilish pink, adorned with glinting trinkets.
He smiled and held out a vessel. Ah, money, I thought. It paints the town red. Or, in this case, a shade of pink that refused to be ignored.
Carefully, I wrestled my wallet free, handed him a few notes. His eyes widened.
Was it the amount?
The act of giving itself?
Or my awkward attempt at wallet gymnastics in a jostling sea of people?
Surprise gave way to a grin, and suddenly—out of nowhere—he blessed me with a peacock feather.
I asked for a picture. He stood, smiled, then vanished into the festival, dancing to a new tune, swallowed by the crowd.
But his azure blue eyes lingered long after.
And a question stayed with me—Do we all wear paint to earn a living?
(at Madurai, India)
