Diwali, As I Remember It: A Journey Back to Childhood

Before Diwali became about shopping, schedules and celebrations, it was about earthen forts, the smell of firecrackers, steaming hot baths on chilly mornings and the simple magic of being a child.

There was a time when Diwali meant something entirely different. The half-yearly examinations would be over, the holidays would begin, and the excitement of the festive season would fill every waking moment. Winter would set in around Dussehra, and by the time Diwali arrived, the mornings would be deliciously cold.

We would spend the entire day playing outdoors, returning home with hands and feet numb from the cold. But who cared about the weather? There was a fort to build, a kingdom to protect and an entire festival to look forward to!

The fort, lovingly built from clay, would be painted saffron. The seeds of garden cress, or halim, sown on its slopes would sprout beautifully, making the little fortress look alive. We would spend hours filling the tiny fountains made from empty saline bottles with water, watching them spurt and sparkle. A gust of wind would knock down our miniature soldiers. The mud would dry, cracks would appear along the fort walls, and the ramparts would need repairing.

And so, the days would pass in the serious business of guarding our little kingdom!

The Great Firecracker Shopping Expedition

The firecracker list would be ready well before Diwali. There was no question of leaving anything to chance. Once the list was finalised, it was time to break open the little clay money box that had been quietly collecting coins for months.

Out would tumble the precious eight-anna and one-rupee coins, saved from here and there. It might not have been a fortune, but it was our very own contribution to the grand Diwali shopping expedition.

The moment we entered the firecracker shop, restraint would disappear completely. We wanted everything!

Lavgis, Lakshmi bombs, sutli bombs, sparklers, ground spinners, flowerpots, chakris, snake tablets, percussion caps and toy pistols — the list seemed endless. Every corner of the shop held another temptation, and before long, our shopping bag would be packed to the brim.

Walking home with that bag felt like being the richest children in the world.

The real excitement, however, began after reaching home. The firecrackers had to be divided between me and my younger brother. Every single piece mattered, even the ones with missing fuses! Nothing was too insignificant to be shared.

After handling the crackers, our fingers would be stained with that silvery-grey residue of gunpowder. We thought it was wonderful. That was probably the closest we came to understanding what gunpowder was!

Looking back, I realise how little it took to make us happy. A handful of coins, a bag of firecrackers and a younger brother to share them with — that was wealth beyond measure.

The Night Before the Big Morning

“Children, go to sleep early! We have to wake up for the Diwali bath tomorrow morning,” Grandma would remind us.

As if sleep were even possible!

We were far too excited to close our eyes. The thought of the next morning, our new clothes and the firecrackers waiting to be burst kept us awake long after bedtime.

And then, finally, the magical morning would arrive.

The world outside would still be dark. The cold would creep through the house, and somewhere in the distance, a rooster would announce the arrival of dawn. The neighbourhood would be unusually quiet, yet filled with the promise of a special day.

We would hurry to wake Mother.

In the bathroom, the traditional brass water heater, the bamb, would already be lit. We would sit close to it, trying to gather as much warmth as possible while Mother prepared everything for the ritual bath.

Then came the utne — the fragrant herbal paste rubbed onto our skin before the bath. It felt terribly cold at first! But the moment that first bucket of hot water was poured over us, everything seemed wonderful again.

The water carried the unmistakable smell of woodsmoke. Even today, I can almost recall that fragrance. Strange as it may sound, I loved it.

The little bar of Moti soap would barely fit into my small hands. And the water in the bucket? It always seemed to last forever, as though the bath would never have to end.

Those mornings had a magic of their own. The cold, the smoke, the warmth of the water, Mother’s familiar voice — they became part of a memory that time could never quite erase.

New Clothes, Fragrant Hair and a House Full of Love

Once the bath was over, Mother would take us to the prayer room and perform aukshan, the traditional ritual of welcoming us with aarti.

Then came the new clothes!

There was something extraordinary about wearing a brand-new outfit on Diwali morning. Everything felt fresh, special and full of promise.

Mother would lovingly apply fragrant jasmine hair oil. I was particularly pleased that it would not solidify in the cold! It was a small detail, but childhood happiness often hides in the smallest things.

After dressing up, we would bow to the elders, seek their blessings and rush out to burst firecrackers.

The rules of firecracker management were simple: make them last!

We would light just one string of lavangis and leave the rest for later. Why finish everything at once when there was an entire day ahead? There was a special pleasure in stretching the excitement, one cracker at a time.

As the morning slowly brightened, we would search the ground for firecrackers that had remained unexploded. Discovering one was like finding hidden treasure. The joy of that unexpected little bonus was almost impossible to describe.

A forgotten firecracker could make our entire morning!

When Did We Stop Being Children?

Today, as I write these memories down, a question comes to mind: When was the last time I truly lived like that?

When was the last time I was completely absorbed in something so small and simple? When did I last experience happiness without calculating its value, worrying about tomorrow or thinking about what needed to be done next?

Somewhere along the way, childhood gave way to adulthood. Responsibilities multiplied, days became busier, and festivals slowly acquired new meanings.

Diwali became a time for shopping, planning, entertaining, managing work and meeting expectations. The excitement remained, but perhaps the carefree innocence began to fade.

And I wonder — has that Diwali of our childhood really disappeared, or have we simply travelled too far from the child we once were?

Perhaps the memories are still alive, waiting patiently for us to return.

This Diwali, I Am Going Back

This year, I have decided to bring that childhood Diwali back into my life.

I may not be able to turn back the clock, but I can certainly make my heart a little younger.

I will sit beside the traditional water heater and let the woodsmoke bring back those forgotten mornings. I will use Moti soap and rub fragrant utne all over, just as I did when I was little. I will put jasmine oil on my now-thinning hair and smile at the memory of Mother doing the same.

I will stand in the gentle light of the prayer room and offer a simple prayer for everyone I love.

May this Diwali bring happiness, prosperity, abundance and peace to every home. May families stay together, may worries grow lighter, and may every heart find a reason to smile.

Because perhaps the true magic of Diwali lies not in how much we buy, how grandly we celebrate or how brightly we decorate our homes. Perhaps it lies in our ability to rediscover the joy we once found in the simplest things.

The little clay fort may be gone. The brass water heater may have been replaced. The firecrackers may have changed, and the children who once ran through the cold morning may now be grown-ups with homes and families of their own.

But somewhere inside us, that little child is still waiting.

Waiting for the smell of woodsmoke. Waiting for a mother’s loving touch. Waiting for a new outfit, a handful of firecrackers and the thrill of discovering one more left unexploded.

Waiting, above all, for a reason to feel that life is beautiful.

So, wake up! Diwali is here. It is time to become a child all over again!

Utha Utha, Diwali Aali!

Happy Diwali from TownParle.in — may this festival bring back your most beautiful memories and fill your heart with the innocent happiness of childhood.