“20 days to go” started the note. It was a corner of the black board that my mom used to teach her students. After pleading I got some space and wrote this down. Everyday, I’d wipe it out and subtract one. When it reached single digit, my happiness knew no bounds. The eight year old me was jumping here and there. No time to find a duster, I wiped it with my little hands and wiped the sweat of my forehead with the same hands to Color myself with the chalk dust. That was the count down to the biggest day of the year – DEEPAVALI!
Fifteen days before the festival, mom plans the budget for the clothes and we rush around Sekar emporium to buy the colours of our choice. “Pink, pink .. yellow yellow” I’d scream and “brown or grey” my sisters choice. “Pavadai (our traditional dress) or frock?” “Midi” we giggle. “Parrys corner” flocked with shops for crackers and we walked inch by inch enjoying the crowd and sun too. The day would end with a light tiffin in Saravana Bhavan or Brindavan with our favourite onion dosa too. “What a day!”
“Amma, how many days for Pongal?” I’d question to keep in mind the next big shopping of clothes. “This year is Special. Two dresses each and one with Kanchipuram silk” when mom announced, my sister and I were flying. “Green silk with pink border” – remains close to my heart and I preserved it to show it to my daughter too.
Mom returning from school tired yet started preparing yummy Kara sev and adhirasam which was typical for the festival. Two days before the great day, our house was spread with aroma of sweets and savouries. Each container had one delicacy and there was no space in the almirah in that little kitchen anymore.
The big day appeared to be the big finale. Oil bath followed by rituals to the Gods. Our new dresses were the super heroes of the day and had all corners decorated with a pinch of turmeric. After a brunch with wide spread of vadas, idly and snacks, we were all set to wear our new clothes we received from our parents with love. A tradition of joining hands and wishing our parents with new clothes and they giving us a ten rupee note in return as a blessing!
I was the delivery girl serving delicacies and two pieces of crackers to every neighbors home. With atleast ten baskets I roamed to finish my job. Some returned wishes and some sweets too. Chitra, my bestie and I would roam floor to floor to proudly show our new clothes and the delicacies mom prepared.
Evenings were fun at the streets with colourful sparkles, mercury and snakes too. Flower pots were touching the skies according to us. Ground chakras swirled round and round and our brothers scared us that they’d hit our foot! Screaming us moved to all corners of the little streets.
“Amma, when is Deepavali?” it was my daughter. Although she did have some excitement, I could sense that it was definitely not what junior Subha experienced. What exactly is missing? I pondered. Deep thoughts within me.
“Great Indian Festival” announced the TV; “Wednesday deals” read the paper; “Pay day Festival” mentioned the Ad; “Red Sale – refill your wardrobe” said the email. On all possible corners, we’re targeted by shopping Ads and sale. Without realising that every 30% discount is not a discount but a 70% expenditure at an unnecessary time, we get tempted and restock our houses.
“No cooking day” “Jolly day” “Happy hours” “Home food delivered with love” says many more Apps and online websites. Restaurant food is advertised in the name of home food and without realising why do we need to buy home food, we just become habituated that one day home food becomes a special food!
“No standing in queues, no sweating in crowded buses, no waiting at the counters” is our everyday life. “Has your tava got old – time to exchange it” the ad had made us forget the stories of our ancestral vessels that stand sturdy even today. “Shopping is just another routine” we forget the joy of waiting and receiving!
Everything being available at the tap of a button has not only made our lives easy but also made us forget the excitement in every little thing we experienced as a child.
Many parents say “I don’t want my child to struggle like I did” forgetting that the child is losing the excitement and enthusiasm as they get instantly gratified by getting what they want. We’re only creating a generation of impatient, sensitive kids who are unable to wait for their turn in life. This leads to increase in anxiety and restlessness at every stage in life.
“Harshu this is the first pure silk pavadai with real silver jari that I got for a special Diwali” I showed my daughter after twenty five years now and she was amazed to see the shining dress.
The thrill of waiting for a new dress, imagining the Color and design without looking at thousands of patterns to choose from; the experience of walking to multiple stores to touch and feel the crackers; the pain in the hands with happiness in the hearts while carrying the shopped goodies; the dumb box that opened its mouth to the old ten rupee note that our parents gave for the greeting with the new dress; the server anna serving hot sambar on banana leaf and we waiting for months to get the taste of a restaurant tickle our mouths; – none of these can be replaced by the easy clicks we do and shop today.
Trying my best to give the countdown experience to my kids – I wait for the day when they come to me with their hands filled with the dust of the chalks! My countdown begins…
1 thought on “The countdown”
Truly said! You took me down the memory lane.
Those days are gone ,never to be back again.
But change is inevitable & is good in many ways. Wish the new generation learns a bit of patience & tolerance. Love the way you explain each detail. Thnks dear.