Catharsis.

Diwali feels different since last year.

Last Diwali (2019) wasn’t the same for me, wasn’t the same for our family.

Almost a day or two before the festival, we lost my grandmother to cancer, which she fought bravely for 2 years. In 2016, she was operated for her breast cancer which later relapsed in her uterus after 2 years at an advanced stage.

My family started realizing we didn’t have enough time with her. They made each occasion with her — so full of life. They re-created my grandparents’ wedding in a grand Marwari fashion. They did family picnics and get-togethers and what not.

All this while, I was away , working in a different city. Till this day, somewhere deep down I feel guilty — guilty for having been away from my family when they were a team — together for her. Of not being around enough after I moved out of home.

My daadi was the coolest in the family — she loved traveling. She was probably an 80s metaphor of today’s ‘wanderlust’. In her 60s, she had more friends than I have in my 20s. She did potlucks and went on trips to the mountains. She ensured to drag my grandpa to go see Singapore. She would play Ludo with us. She would dance during our birthday dinners and sing songs before falling asleep.

Diwali, all my life was an occasion when I tried my best to spend with family — full of laughter and lights. This one, and possibly the ones to come will feel different. They’ll remind me of her pink sarees, her big red bindi and her gleaming eyes as she watched us eat meals at the dining table. They’ll remind me of all the beautiful places she traveled to and the ones she wanted to travel to. Most of all, they’ll remind me of how someone’s simplicity and warmth can bring so much joy to those around.

Last couple of days were uncomfortable, trying to make peace with all the guilt. But now that I have let some out, I can sing myself to sleep… (just like she used to)

— Late post from Diwali 2020 —