Deepavali is around the corner. Unlike other festivals I can never associate Deepavali with sweets, delicacies or a good feast. My thoughts go back to the time when my Uncle used to set up a temporary cracker shop. He was a real entrepreneur with good business sense. He would stock not only the usual stuff like sparklers, candles, Vishnu chakras, flowerpots, bhuchakras, bombs etc., but also novel introductory stuff in his shop. I remember going to the shop just to ogle at the wares. Now and then I would flick a small cracker and come home to try it out in the evening. Come Deepavali, we would pester my uncle for guns and I along with my brother would go about the house firing the guns with caps or rolls.
The sound of the shot and the smoke that emanated were exciting enough to render the thrill of a real battle. My brother was more adventurous than me when it came to bursting crackers. I would take all precautions, maintain distance while handling the bombs, where as he would light them in his hands and throw them away. Some of the more adventurous guys could light two bombs in both hands (even lethal ones like Nellore gun) and the deafening roar of the bombs would reverberate through the building.
Before the day of Deepavali I would gather some of my friends and start firing the small crackers which usually came in packets of hundred. This was done with an incense stick. One year my uncle stored up a big cracker roll of 10,000 Walla as it was left unsold. One of my routine activities for the next month or so, was to visit the wonderful treasure everyday in the evening and fondle it. I even got a little brave and started cutting pieces of rolls to burn them discreetly. Eventually my uncle found a buyer for some occasion after Deepavali and he sold it.
Coming to Deepavali, the piece-de-resistance of the evening was the 25,000 or 50,000 Walla; a huge cracker, rolled out by one of my uncles at around 10 p.m. It was lighted from two ends and one usually heard this comment in the end (తుప్పు వదలిపోయింది) meaning the rust has been blown out of the ears. While my sisters played with flower pots or sparklers, we guys would roll up our sleeves and go all out in bursting the crackers. There was bonhomie and camaraderie. I would diligently change from my new dress and wear loose fitting cottons to be at ease while bursting crackers. And then there were rockets. Rockets were fired by shoring up sand in a bucket or a bottle and from the open terrace. It was a very dangerous affair, since now and then some rocket lost way and ripped up a hut or somebody’s butt. The aftermath of Deepavali was entirely about counting and calculating; the amount of scrap and paper in front of the house was a potential indicator of the number of crackers burst. I stopped indulging in crackers probably after my graduation. As with all things in life, this phase too passed.
Now I just watch the wonderful lights and the beautiful pattern of the aerial bound rockets in the dark sky, and long to relive my childhood when simple things and little joys mattered.