A letter to a dearly beloved

“Light a lamp of love! Blast a chain of sorrow! Shoot a rocket of prosperity! Fire a flowerpot of happiness!”

My dear Beloved

I never really understood my aunt’s statement ” my Diwali is when my children come home” . I used to think it was crazy the way she would clean her house till the last knob sparkled and even if it was mid – May or June, her solitary flat would be strung with fairy lights that twinkled , her front door festooned with garlands, rangoli and  clay lamps house while the brass tins on her table were filled with freshly made Diwali treats. I thought she was a bit cuckoo with her reaction to her children’s homecoming but now when I put out the lights for the last day of Diwali today, I understand her sentiments. My Diwali is not the same without you and will never be the way it was when you were party of my family.

My first Diwali with you was a special one, a precious one because it reminded me of a Diwali I could have had with another one, another child if she had chosen to stay. But that little one left us even before she saw the light of day which made your arrival a more cherished one. So that first Diwali which you spent with us was extra special with the light you brought back into our lives.

You were our special Diwali gift, one that grew with every year. I loved the way you reacted each Diwali, surprise and shock with the noise and light. Then gradually you began to appreciate the lights, the candles , the food and new clothes the festivities and the celebrations. You learnt to mix with friends and family and enjoyed our rambunctious  family get togethers, where loud chatter fought hard to make itself heard as we exchanged gifts and wishes with each other. Every Diwali there were more children adding to the love and replacing those that left our fold.  The Uncles and Aunts slowly got older and you and your cousins came to the fore. You helped with all the preparations for the celebrations, making designs with rangoli powders, arranging flowers, choosing gifts and packing them…..helping get the house ready to welcome the light into our homes.

And then one day you left to never return not even for a stray Diwali…. and Diwali lost its special light, the sweets their sweetness till finally they turned bitter with your decision not to look back anymore. Since then my Diwali has become a mindless motion of activities that have to be done – get the house clean, make the sweets, buy the gifts and wish the people. The greetings become meaningless and even though I wish all well, I know inside my heart will hanker for your presence on Diwali Day.

I know I ask for something that can never change because your actions are irreversible but know this dear wherever you are, that somewhere there’s an aching heart of a mother waiting for the child she lost. My Diwali can never be the same and though the sweets become sweet again, the crackers sound and new memories take the place of those you left behind, I’ll always see your honey brown eyes flickering in the Diwali flame.

Missing you forever and forever……

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

I’m also linking this as the 26th post for Write Tribe ProBlogger challence

Author: Unishta

A granny who always sees the humour in life and tries to do things differently. When others make cupcakes, this granny makes banana fritters. When she’s not busy chasing her grandchildren who love making her run around, she indulges in her passions of reading, writing, meeting friends and watching movies. And somewhere between all this she enjoys travelling and cooking!

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