This year, Divali was on 11 November. For days before houses were lit with flashing multi-coloured lights. Cracker bursting too had begun long before the 11th. On the 11th evening it reached a peak. The sky was lit with rockets, the road outside the house was aflame with sparklers, anars, and all sorts of fire-crackers. And the noise was deafening. After lighting a few diyas I came inside. On TV every actor and ‘important’ person went on about how wonderful it was to celebrate Divali with family and friends.
I too, was celebrating with family and friends. They consisted of: Sweetie, Minty, Pixie, Mini, Maxi, Mitzi, Ashi and Nandu. Here’s how we celebrated. Sweetie was wrapped in a quilt on my bed, until I joined her at night so that she could sleep on my shoulder as she always does. Minty sat on my lap and later had a warm sweater to curl up in. Pixie came inside and dived under the bed in the other bedroom. Mini, Maxi, and Mitzi hid behind boxes in the storeroom. Ashi and Nandu would normally be with them, but for extra safety [as they are black and I had heard of people wanting black cats for Tantric rites], they were in the bathroom, and hid under the sink.
All were safe, even though none were too happy. On my terrace the diyas burned with a soft light. It was the most peaceful house in the area.
[Pixie is a dog, all others are cats. All are rescues].
Roshen Dalal 