Light and Darkness
The lights flicker with relief in balconies, telling me with a careful giddiness – lest their gratitude be tainted – we weren’t touched by adversity. The balconies that aren’t adorned with lights, with the exception of one sorrowful lamp, is telling me despondently that Ayodhya may have gotten their king back but the loss of their head burdens this house.
For each string of flowers that gleefully dangles from doors and hinges, there’s a garland that dolorously grips the frame of a loved one. For each diya that glimmers religiously celebrating the homecoming of a son, a daughter and a brother, there is a counterpart that mourns and wishes for the son, daughter and brothers that won’t return.
The festival of lights is a reminder of the darkness that’s all-consuming.