Diwali ....

 Diwali came and went. The lights still shone, the sweets were still made, but something felt missing — that spark, that laughter, that beautiful chaos we once lived for.

There was a time when our pockets were half-empty, yet our hearts were overflowing — with excitement, with warmth, with love. Those were the days when Diwali wasn’t just a festival… it was a feeling that wrapped around us like the fragrance of homemade faral.

Today’s generation doesn’t seem to feel it the same way. No helping hands in the kitchen, no decorations made with laughter and noise, no calling friends to share that plate of chakli and laddoos. Instead, there’s a cold glow — not from diyas, but from cell phone screens.

For us, Diwali began long before the first cracker burst. It started with the joy of school vacations, the smell of ghee and besan wafting through the house, the thrill of wearing a simple new dress and feeling like royalty. Meeting family and friends, exchanging smiles, sharing faral with neighbours — those moments defined togetherness.

Now, homemade snacks are met with wrinkled noses. Kids say no to laddoos, people hide behind the word health-conscious — as if all the other junk doesn’t count, but a laddoo made with love is the villain!

Maybe times have changed, maybe people have too. But deep down, some part of us still waits — for that one Diwali that felt pure, that smelled of home, that sounded like laughter, and that lit up not just our houses… but our hearts.