How delighted I have been of the festival of Diwali since childhood!! Sparklers … ground chakras … Vishnu chakras … flower pots…. It’s the day when all the children’s faces glow brilliantly as sparklers transcending all caste and community. The entire city is blown abloom as a colorfully lighted garden … like trees sprouting sparkling gems all at once … marvelous scenes, wherever one looks about.

But in my house alone lay impenetrable darkness of the new moon … my heart always heavy with sadness. It was so every year. The unbearable anxiety of waiting that began ten days earlier would end on the festival day in a sudden flat hush as a damp sky rocket. I used to cry asking for purchase of crackers but Ba’s^[1] heart would never melt—even when I rolled in the soil crying.

"That’s the festival of Hindus. We are Muslims…. Why don’t you listen when I say we can’t celebrate?" My father chided. 

My mother pleaded on my behalf. Even when she persisted, "After all a small child [Chotha baccha haiji], why do you make him cry?" he wouldn’t listen. He would snap scolding her sharply, "Keep quiet [Chup raho]. You don’t know. Go inside." My mother pampered me a lot since I was the only male child born after four girls. It was my father alone … if I annoyed him further he would even give a few blows. In despair, envy and fondness I would watch other children burst crackers from behind a film of tears.

Things stood the same even when I came to study Intermediate. Since I grew up a little, I didn’t have to face tears and blows—that’s the only difference. I used to get angry with my father. I used to get down to arguing with him.

"It’s a festival celebrated by Hindus as a mark of how Satyabhama killed Narakasura, a demon." He used to say. 

"Why should we think so? It’s symbolic Ba… Diwali is celebrated as a mark of Light defeating Darkness by name of a demon. Anyone can celebrate it. Even so what’s the relationship between firing sparklers and flower pots and religion?"

"You’re spoilt reading that poetry and those sundry subjects… You’re turning into a kafir", so saying, he slipped into silence.

I felt piqued to argue further … why plead with him when my innocence was hurt? On that day I went to my friends’ houses, Ramana’s or Surya Kumar’s. I pleased myself watching them burst crackers. Maybe I burst a few sparklers and flower pots.

What I don’t understand even today is whether a sparkler was in Ramana’s hand or mine, its luminous beauty was the same, more so in the case of a flower pot. Placing it at a spot touch it off with a sparkler and you just have to move away, the sparkling flowery gems feast the eyes spouting like a fountain of blooms. Still, pleasure lay in lighting them with my hands alone … same was the case with ground chakras.

When I married Rani from a Brahmin family, my father-in-law invited us to celebrate the first Diwali in Ongole. I excused myself on purpose, the reason given though was lame. My father too lived in the same city of Ongole, isn’t it? I feared he would object to my celebrating Diwali since we are Muslims. I strongly desired that we should buy lots of fireworks, burning them, feast my eyes and enjoy to my heart’s content.

Hearing my wish, Rani excitedly jumped for joy. "I too like Diwali very much. Let’s celebrate it in a grand manner and in all pomp. Our apartment complex should reverberate with the sound of crackers. Buy a dozen of Lakhmi bombs, a garland cracker … it has to have a thousand!"

"No bombs! Those sounds don’t agree with me. Instead, let’s buy sparklers, flower pots and chakras. Let’s light lamps in rows all over the front yard and the balcony. How beautiful it would be! I like it very much."

"Cannot imagine Diwali devoid of the sound of crackers, we have to buy Lakhmi bombs and garland crackers." 

"No, that’s sound pollution, how can you not be conscious of the environment even that much?"

"Oh! Then you too don’t burn fireworks. It’s air pollution, isn’t it? At least why can’t wise men like you protect the environment?" She replied in a huff fiercely.

"OK. Why argue? As you said we’ll also buy crackers, but one condition. First I’ll burn sparklers, snakes, chakras and flower pots and later you burst crackers."

"OK. You’ll see I can let off crackers holding them in my hand. Do you know?" 

"You mean I should watch it? No way. I’ll sit in the bedroom, ears plugged. Then you can burst at leisure."

"What’s that? Haven’t you burst crackers any time? Tell me the truth."

"I have … two or three times ... even that when Ramana forced me."

"It’s so simple, isn’t it? Just touch off the wick end of it … then fling it away … that’s all. You hear the sound—Ddaam, how nice to hear that sound!!"

Wearing an expression of discomfort, I said, "I don’t know how to burst crackers that way."

"Then …"

Seeing my discomfort she said, "I won’t think otherwise. Give no room to embarrassment, come clean tell me the truth."

"I place a piece of torn newspaper lit on the ground. Leaving a garland cracker in its centre I come away running. The paper burning touches off the cracker’s wick end too. Then it goes off with a loud sound."

Even before I completed, Rani burst into a tree of laughter. Her laughter bloomed in clusters and furthermore fresh clusters … ripe smiles in bunches and yet more bunches … all heaps and many more heaps of them … all over the house….

When Diwali was away by just four days, that morning I asked Rani before I left for the college, "Be ready in the evening. We’ll together buy crackers. I hear they are cheap in HAKA^[2]. Check how much our budget allows."

"We can buy comfortably up to five hundred rupees."

"OK. The mud lamps are available on the way. Let’s buy twenty-five to thirty. The lights should drown the entire house in a sea of light."

A call came from Ongole at four-thirty that very same evening—that my father was serious … and that he was admitted in the hospital…. I heard to mother’s weeping more than her words.

By next morning, Rani and I were in Ongole. When he ran temperature they thought it was ordinary fever. Finally, it was settled—Typhoid. By Diwali, father showed slight recovery. Sitting by his bedside in the hospital, I spent Diwali hearing to the sound of crackers and seeing through the glass windows twinkling stars playing hide and seek. Four days later father was discharged from the hospital.

Seeing me sitting with a dejected expression, "Diwali comes every year. Next year we’ll celebrate in a grand manner, alright?" Rani consoled.

"Have you seen how my father wreaked vengeance? Now when I am independent, married and set up my own family and living separately, have you seen how even now he came in the way of my celebrating Diwali!"

"Tcha… like a child why do you prattle? Does one fall ill wantonly? Who else will look after them? We have performed our duty well. Many more Diwalis will come in future to fulfill your wish."

My thoughts which were going off line fell in line once again. There remained some discordant feeling somewhere bottled up in my heart about my father … it was a feeling of anger I hid within me since childhood.

The second Diwali after my wedding is away by a week. My parents-in-law invited us for the festival. I talked them into visiting us instead in Hyderabad.

"What’s that son? Tradition is you visit us here. As it is, inmates of our agrahara^[3] are indulging in a whisper campaign. Do you know of that?" said Rani’s mother.

"What?"

"That he is staying six months in a year at his son-in-law’s place."

"Rani is his life, isn’t it? A son-in-law too is equal to a son. So it’s not wrong for him to stay here or how long."

"For this time you two come here." I persisted, "There’s important work pending in the College. We can’t come, if you could come Rani will be happy." 

I made that story since I was hesitant to tell her that if I went to Ongole my father wouldn’t let me burst crackers.

They both arrived four days ahead of Diwali.

Rani and I started for HAKA the day before Naraka Chaturdasi. As we came down and out of the lift, lo, we see my father standing there.

"I see you both are going out. It’s alright. Is there anybody home?" he asked.

I looked at Rani disappointed. She threw me a consoling glance. "My parents are in the apartment. Please come, mamagaru^[4]. We can go to the market later."

She said.

"Ayyo! Not at all. You should not be delayed because of me. I feel bad. I’ve come without intimating you, haven’t I? I should’ve called you. Please go and come back soon." He sounded repentant.

I don’t know what Rani thought, but she held my hand and said, "Come, by the time we return, mamagaru would have rested a while." So saying, she called her father on the cell to inform of my father’s arrival.

Instead of going to HAKA we went towards the Necklace Road. "Have you seen how he dropped without a notice? I knew … he’s come only to check on me", my voice cracking I broke off.

"Saif, if you’ve set your heart on it there are hundred ways to think up something … I’m there, am I not? … I’ll see that you somehow burn fireworks tomorrow. Take my word for it."

"My father will not agree. Since it’s our house we may do as we wish, but I don’t like it. It’s not proper to hurt a guest coming to our house." 

"Would I do anything to show disrespect to him? No, I’ll not."

"Then …"

"The principle you followed in your Intermediate days … we’ll follow that. You know that my aunt’s son works in Wipro, don’t you? Ravi. He’s staying alone in his big flat in Madhapur. Tomorrow we’ll leave for his place excusing ourselves of being invited for dinner. On the way we’ll buy sparklers, chakras, flower pots, fill our bag full and fire them all to our satisfaction…."

"How about the crackers, you like them, don’t you?"

"It’s alright. I will be happy watching you fire them all heartily."

A squint is better than blindness, isn’t it? I settled for that.

At six the next evening, when we were about to set out for Madhapur, father stopped us in our tracks. Intending to say, I knew … now he’ll somehow come in our way, I stole a glance at Rani. She rolled her eyes as if to say, "Peace … peace."

"When are you planning to return, beta^[5]?" He asked.

"May be it’s going to be past ten Ba…"

"Ayyo … I may not stay awake till then. Beta I’ve brought you a thofa^[6] from Ongole. Wait. I’ll give it to you right away." Saying, he went in and placed a big plastic bag in my hand.

"What’s this Ba? Are they new clothes?"

"Open and see", he said smiling.

Crackers inside the bag!! Astounded, I kept them out one after the other. Four boxes full of twinkling stars … two boxes full ground chakras … two dozen flower pots….

While I was keeping out two boxes of garland crackers, "They’re for my bahubeti…. Your father called before I started for Hyderabad. When the topic came he mentioned that you liked to burst crackers", he said to Rani.

I could not believe my eyes … is that my father? He, who scolded me, beat me when I mentioned the term crackers … that father who argued that it’s against our religion!

"Ba… did you bring all these? You used to say we are Muslims and that we should not burst crackers, didn’t you?" I said with tear-filled eyes.

"Beta … do you know which is the most terrible punishment for any man? Poverty…. Hunger knows no religion … hard task raising five children on meager earnings off tailoring—I know it, your mother knows it and that Allah knows it … how many days amma and I went without food to feed you all!! Whenever you annoyed me with your small wish to buy you hand torches, how my heart bled for not fulfilling a small wish of yours ... but my circumstances left no option … a desire that twenty-five rupees spent in buying the hand torches may come of use in buying ten kilograms of millets to meet two weeks of ration. Not knowing how to convince you, found it easier to silence you in the name of religion. Now I realize how wrong I was beta … better confess poverty than corrupt infant minds showing religion as a monster, Mujh ko maaf kardo beta [Please forgive me my son]."

I couldn’t control my tears. Rani picked her cell phone and spoke for half a minute. "Ravi called to say that he has to go out on some urgent work and apologized profusely."

Having had our dinner early, we came down by eight. By then children in the neighborhood had already gathered swelling in ecstasy like flower pots. I too competed with them. On one side father, "Beta, fire this ground chakra … the earlier one burned well…." On another Rani, "Burn this flower pot. Your face glows like it when you burn it." I burned them to my heart’s content.

When we came up, my father hugged and wished me, "Id mubarak beta", and Rani, "Diwali mubarak beti."

He appeared at that time like a tree radiating light across the universe.

Reference # 69J-2009-07-09-10

* Velthuru Chettu—from the sequel stories The Tales of Rani by Syed Saleem, published in Rachana, May 2008. Translated from Telugu by P Jayalakshmi, Associate Professor, Department of English, NizamCollege, Osmania University, Hyderabad. E-mail:  jaya.popuri@gmail.com

1. Ba—father. 

2 HAKA—a government-run outlet for sale of fireworks.

3. Agrahara—group settlements of brahmins.

4. Mamagaru—father-in-law.

5. Beta—son.

6. Thofa—gift.

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