Diwali, Deebavali, Choti, Badi and everything in between

Diwali, Deebavali, Choti, Badi and everything in between

In Delhi, Diwali came in shifts. We Tam-Brahms celebrated Naraka Chaturdasi before sunrise, while everyone around us celebrated Choti Diwali that evening and Badi Diwali the next day.

As children, we found this arrangement highly satisfactory.

Our Deepavali began at about three in the morning.

There was coffee.

Then an oil bath.

Then new clothes.

Then prayers.

Then fireworks.

The Tamil community had, as usual, found a way to make a festival more difficult than necessary.

Delhi at three in the morning was otherwise a very quiet place.

Our fireworks took care of that.

We would wake up the neighbours, whether they wanted to participate in our Deepavali or not. Somewhere behind a closed window, someone was probably wondering why these Madrasis could not celebrate at a more reasonable hour.

After the fireworks came Malai Mandir.

Then we returned home for an elaborate three-course meal with vadai and payasam.

By then, a child could reasonably be mistaken for a python.

We slept.

When we woke up, Choti Diwali was beginning.

The neighbours were getting ready for their evening celebrations.

We were ready too.

There were sweets and fireworks again.

The next day came Badi Diwali, with more sweets, more fireworks and more people wishing each other a happy Diwali.

For us children, this was excellent.

Our only objection was the three o'clock start.

There was also the small matter of Father's fireworks budget.

It had not increased merely because Delhi had somehow managed to give us three opportunities to celebrate the same festival.

So we planned.

The fireworks list was prepared in advance. We decided what we wanted, what it cost and how far the money would go.

Then came the trip to Sadar Bazar, where buying from the wholesalers gave us the feeling that we were running a serious financial operation.

Once everything was bought, the fireworks were divided into three portions.

Morning.

Evening.

Next day.

We did not know the term resource allocation then.

We simply knew that if we finished everything before dinner, there would be nothing left tomorrow.

It worked.

We got gifts from the local families, sweets from neighbours and relatives, and enough fireworks to keep us happy through all three celebrations.

What had begun as a difference between two communities had become, for us, an extended festival.

Our parents brought their Deepavali.

Delhi gave us its Diwali.

We celebrated both.

And as children, we saw no reason to complain.

Except about being woken up at three in the morning.

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