C'est La Vie!

When I was a kid Diwali meant waking up at 4am. Having oil rubbed into your scalp against your will. Sometimes having someone scrape a piece of turmeric across your face and hands. While someone else sings "Gauri Kalyanam" off-key. After Ganga snaanam in the comfort of my bathroom(shampooing atleast twice to get the oil off), I'd wear new clothes(all new, from the inside out, you understand). It would be 6am by then. Time to gorge myself until I felt sick.

Idli sambar for breakfast. Followed by bakshanams made by mom. Mixture. Badam barfi. Thattai. Therattipaal. And others whose names I cannot recollect. Of course to digest all this, you eat the delicious legiyum.(aka marindhu) And after I ate until I was sure to explode, we'd go to the temple. Call all our relatives to wish them a Happy Diwali. And usually head to my mama's place later in the day.Where I'd eat more of the same. Except the chef was my mami, not my mom. We'd take the bus back home in the evening. Nigdi-Kothrud. A 1 hour trip in a bus that would be unusually empty on account of Diwali. I'd be half asleep by the time I got home. Not surprising, considering all the food consumed.

Since we celebrate Narakachaturdashi which is a day before Laxmi Pujan, I'd get to hang out with my friends on Laxmi Pujan. Go to several friends' houses. Eat Faral. Hang out. It was always fun. 

The only thing I didn't like about Diwali were the noisy firecrackers. That particular disease was owing to the fact that I'd spent 8 years growing up in a country where it wasn't allowed. Today, the only things that remind me that it IS Diwali is the Orkut message board and a few phone calls. I wish someone would burst a lousy firecracker. 

Happy Diwali!