Dad takes out the old worn out box,
Whoosh! One blow and
The dust from the previous year is gone.
I peep into it and clap my hands like a child.
He takes out the strings,
And proceeds to untangle the fairy lights,
While I sit quietly, watching, waiting.
Boom!
A firecracker goes off somewhere.
I jolt out of my dream and look around.
Only a pitch black room
Registers in my disoriented state.
Fireworks light up the horizon again.
Uggghhh!
I pad softly to the window,
And gaze out at the city lights,
And the tiny houses all decked up,
My eyes go unfocused,
As tears obscure my vision.
I snap out of my trance.
Slam!
The window is shut with unnecessary force.
A tiny plug strikes my leg,
I almost trip over the yellow string,
Scattered on my floor.
My half-hearted attempts at decoration,
To bring a semblance of Diwali on the darkness.
I pick of the strings,
My fingers gently running over them.
Flick!
A switch in on and a mellow yellow fills the room.
I gaze in wonder at the string of stars,
Which have descended in my room.
Ring! Ring!
I swipe at my phone and place it to my ear.
"Shreya, did you study psychopharmacology?"
"Going to," I wince.
"Got the charts?"
"Not really."
I put down the phone in disdain.
The scenes from yesterday's Dandiya evening,
Flash before me.
The mere statuses on WhatsApp,
From every other student but my peers.
Aaahhh!
I collapse on the chair picking up my book.
The sound of crackers are filtering through the glass.
Statuses continue pouring in.
Diwali greetings.
I turn off the phone in disgust and take up my book.
After all that's what I did the previous year too,
And the year before and...
As the fog settles on the night air,
A miasma of despair hangs in the air.
I miss the chatter of people,
I miss the pandals.
Cooped up in this hell hole,
Frustrated with life,
Every diwali seems like an impossible dream now.
Welcome to a hosteler's life
HAPPY DIWALI.