As a 90s kid, when I see the festive season’s online sales being the biggest talking point on Deepawali, I reminisce about the good old days. As readymade rangolis and LED decorative lights eclipse the carnival, I look for traces of the festival in the form I knew best.
Riding with dad on his old Chetak scooter, going out to buy new clothes for Deepawali, hoarding up crackers days before the festival and gorging on sweets without the slightest worry of what that would do to my body are the memories I want to cling on to.
How simple yet satiating were those days. A five-rupee Pista Kulfi was all I needed for the night to feel perfect and celebrate the return of God Ram back home, following the spectacle of Ravan in flames a few days before—the symbolic victory of good over evil. I had, in the words of Prem from Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, no complaints, no demands in that bubble of mine.