Firecrackers and Diwali

Walking around the busy baazar,

Hundreds of bargains of firecrackers

shopping for the festival of lights

is a matter of prestige.

My 1000 wala has to be 10000

any less, and I might as well mourn.

My little four and half walks with me,

Unnerved by the stress of my mind-voice

So many stores, so many discounts, I plan ahead.

Tiny hands tug at mine, I ignore,

They tug again and say ‘mummy please’

I look at where the child was seeing,

A beautiful child, sitting in a quite corner

of the buzzing bazaar with dirt spewing from 80’s scooters,

She smiles, waves at my ‘lil one.

She lets go of my hand and asks her name,

I’m Divya, and I like henna says the little one.

Can I paint your hand too?

Curious and eager, my daughter looks at me,

I smile, and nod.

That Diwali, our house had beautifully decorated hands and feet.

We had a special guest Divya to share our sweets.

Fireworks plenty exploded in the sky,

All three of us enjoyed the sight,

From our terrace, with our henna decorated hands.