Mumbai & secret sadness of Diwali
My parents stored our firecrackers in a bucket under their bed. This was in the early eighties – my siblings and I were in school – and the sly storage of sutli bombs and sparklers signalled the start of Diwali. Other signs: my mother kneeling before a marble slab to paint it in red gheru. Then, dipping her fingers in rice flour, she drew loops and petals; rangoli was her visual bridge between the domestic and the divine.
Read full story on TOI+
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
END OF ARTICLE
