It’s a quiet Deepavali. I remember Deepavalis long past when things were truly festive with illegal fireworks, tupperware upon tupperware of cookies and candies, and so much noise and gaiety, nobody slept before midnight. Mutton curry by the potfuls and non-stop stream of relatives, it was all good.
This was when my grandparents still lived in a squatter house of planks and zinc. A kampung in all senses of the word, down to the livestock, mossy well and not to mention the outhouse. Bathing on deepavali morn with fresh well water is not for the faint hearted nor the cold blooded.
Everything seems brilliant with rose-tinted glasses on your nose.
Is it time that robs us of innocence and simple pleasures or have celebrations in general cease to have that merry zing with our economic slide and bleak forecasts? Where is the fervour? I hope it’s not a side effect of having grown up.
But one thing never changes. As perennial as muruku and immortal as laddu, Deepavali ain’t Deepavali without those cheesy Tamil musicals on local TV. Forget colours of Ranggoli, give me sun glasses. Must fuchsia be matched with lime green? Against a yellow backdrop? Subtlety has never been the pride of Tamils. I would know, won't I?
Yet what are festivals without indulging in the unimaginably corny? The Christians have their Fat Man that trespasses people’s property every Christmas eve. The Taoists have a multitude of deities that favours porcine offerings. But the Tamils,we outdo them all - for we have Sivaji!
Not this Sivaji.
But THIS:
It was shown on TV 2 and if have not seen it, where have you BEEN?
Truly Rajni, Truly India.
No comments:
Post a Comment