For years, Diwali competed with Holi for the title of my favourite festival. New clothes, crackers, and vacations. Sweets distributed to neighbours, friends and colleagues. Diwali is the only festival that sometimes makes me wish I had an office job - just so that I could dress up, eat sweets, and laugh fakely at my boss’s jokes. Holi on the other hand, seems like a party that only youngsters can attend.
You throw colours at each other, get drunk, and sully your clothes. But the next day seems like an unwanted trip to Azkaban. The head hurts, the clothes are torn, and it takes days to wash off the traces of pink hidden in the crevices of your body. For years, Diwali suffered under the pressure of woke activists who advised us not to burst crackers. The reason given was the pollution caused by crackers on that night. Of course, these statements were made by celebrities who took a private jet to their chosen destination. The celebrities endorse and own fast-fashion brands that contribute to 10% of the world’s annual carbon emissions. Perhaps that’s the reason they are called ‘woke’.
Their arguments are lazy enough to put the listener to sleep. Thankfully, the youngsters of today do not have to go through the insufferable arguments of the unnecessarily woke. Diwali for me will always be about the crackers. The smell of charcoal, sulphur and steel powder overtakes the smells of your favourite Iyengar bakery for a few days. Those who don’t burst crackers judge the ones who do from their windows. And those who burst crackers cock a snook at those who stay cocooned inside their houses even on Diwali night. As the owner of a curious mind, I often visit the local crackers stall to look at the most-selling crackers.
Every year, I hear stall owners bemoan the entry of online websites selling crackers. Much before e-commerce sites arrived, big billion sales existed in every local market. I notice that some crackers have maintained their relevance over the decades. Rockets, for example, seem to have retained their position at the top. It is hard to compete with a cracker that shoots itself into the sky and explodes into a bouquet of colours. The curiously named ‘Atom Bomb’ and ‘Hydrogen Bomb’ seem to have aged well too - maintaining consistency in their shape and design.
The ‘flowerpot’ has also adapted to modern times, thanks primarily to their Instagramfriendliness. But a few glorious crackers seem to have gotten lost in time. The ‘snake tablet’ that left permanent scars on the floor - has been banned for its polluting abilities. The chakri - bought by both elders and children in its heyday - doesn’t seem to be as popular. Even the ‘onion bomb’ - which strangely actually looked like a garlic - is not to be seen in most cracker markets.
Also missing are the local crackers that every state had. These weren’t made by the geniuses at Sivakasi - but rather in local markets using ropes, cloth, and locally sourced, 100% organic ‘gunfire’. But my favourite of all Diwali crackers - the pistol reel - seems to be missing from the markets. The cracker that I used to shoot at imaginary ghosts, and invisible villains. I would shoot, blow at the pipe, and stuff the gun back (carefully) into my pocket. Diwali is celebrated to mark the return of Rama to Ayodhya after vanquishing the enemy army. But back in the day, me and my gun were capable enough to destroy a thousand monsters - under the bed, on the staircase, and in my mind. Happy Diwali!