Every Diwali, every year, my sister would painstakingly draw elaborate designs around the house. There would be colours, candles and flowers intricately arranged into small acts of beauty. She'd spent hours labouring over a small neglected corner of the house and a few minutes over the centre pieces with magnificent results. The feminine touch, so to speak, was everywhere. Meanwhile, I'd use the holiday break to catch up on my reading and sleeping.. casually sauntering in and out of the welcome intimacies. It never made sense to me to spend hours over Rangoli which would be washed away in a day or two. It seemed too trivial, too demeaning a pursuit.

Too female. In my utopian world, it perhaps smacked of sterotypes of bindi toting, sari clad, belan laden women. My sister could have been just another dutiful daughter fitting ino the right mould.

 

So last year, when someone mentioned colours and decoration to a newly married me, I laughed it off. " Nah, not a chance. Not me." I thought and perhaps articulated my disapproval very well.

 

But this year, something changed. An ideal world is aesthetically authentically pretty. Is it not. Wen we think perfect, do we not think beautiful crystal, silver balls and tinkling laughter. Surely not drab depressing spaces crowding our messy lives.

 

Or maybe I use words like aesthetics and authentic to defend  a sudden liking of candles and roses. :)

 

Between this morning and evening, a fairytale has been unfolding around me. A thousand lit candles. Aromas of rose, jasmine, chocolate and strawberry. Gentle Pinks and verdant Greens.

 

Its a Diwali break like no other. One that's left my stereotypes in little bits and pieces yet left me strangely content once more.

 

Happy Diwali To the Old and the New.. :)