Diwali

By Allan  
For Hindus, Christmas, Chanukah, New Years, and the Fourth of July are melded together into a 7-day celebration at the end of October. Diwali, known as the festival of lights, signifies the emergence from darkness into light. This light signifies health, knowledge, prosperity, and fulfillment. Indian families celebrate by lighting candles, hanging garlands of fresh flowers and brightly colored tapestries, colorful lights, and baking treats. However, the brightest and loudest of the festivities comes in the form of fireworks. Like the absence of traffic rules, there is also an absence of rules governing fireworks. Any person, any age, can light off fireworks anywhere. And they do.

I practically ducked under the table at the Tibetan Yak Restaurant when a mini-bomb went off at my backside. With my ears ringing off the hook, I looked around to see if I was the only one that thought the Chinese were attempting to assassinate the Dalai Lama. Behind me was a group of teenage Indian boys laughing, jumping around, and celebrating. This was my initiation to Diwali. As we continued eating they continued blasting. The blasts and bursts of light in the small alley was so intense that I couldn’t finish dinner. Every time I brought the thenthuk noodle-filled fork to my mouth, I heard another boom. Dinner was over.

Walking back to our guest house was like dodging land-mines. Children were throwing fireworks in every direction. Some exploded at our feet, others just missed our heads. We made it back to our room in record time. From our terrace we watched blasts of light throughout the valley. We contemplated going back into the war zone. The safety of our room was obviously appealing. Without much hesitation, I grabbed my camera, stuffed toilet paper into my ears and we made our way back to the center of town. We protected ourselves from the small children, who I’m pretty sure were trying to kill us, and I did my best to take some photos (hoping that my face and camera would be spared). The main square was a fireworks-free-for-all. As bottle rockets and cherry bombs were going off everywhere, people were laughing, screaming, covering their ears and running in every possible direction, and often into one another. Even a group of Buddhist monks were taking part in the madness. While walking back to our room an Indian man stopped us to tell us how he loves watching the fireworks but that they are very dangerous. He’d barely finished with his thought when a bottle rocket crashed into the storefront behind us, leaving me and Nicole thankful that neither of us were on fire. Even so, we decided it was time to call it a night.


by Nicole
I’m not big on fireworks. But it wasn’t until the so-called festival of lights--Diwali, celebrated widely among Hindus--that I came to realize how incredibly not big on fireworks I am.

Seen from afar, they are beautiful, magical, even mystical at times. Thrown in your very near vicinity by a clearly nonprofessional firework operator--namely an Indian child--and they are cause for you to run for your life through a war-like zone! Lights from police cars, ambulances, fireworks gone astray, deafening noises and cries from children who have, in all likelihood, lost appendages or eyes or both. Yep, I’m not too big on fireworks.