“Mamu, rassi bomb please” his nephew exclaimed. Rushuv relented. Standing at the firecracker
vendor, with his 4 year old niece Kiaara in his arms and his 7 year old nephew
Arhaan jumping with excitement at finally making his annual trip to the
phatakawala, he did not have the heart to say no. He knew they were useless and
dangerous. He tried explaining this to the little boy. But in this chaos, it
was royally ignored. With a promise of never using these again, he put the
final item in the big blue bag and walked towards the car.
Diwali is celebrated with great pomp in India. Bathed in a
warm, yellow and welcoming glow of festivities, every house is all smiles and
snacks as they ritually visit people, exchange the joy and celebration that
comes with this time of the year. For Rushuv, it was a time to catch up with
his family. Currently working in London, he looked forward to these trips as a
nice, happy family reunion which was made much more special by the ever
energised affection of his niece and nephew, who were like his own children.
His sister, their mother, too allowed them to be indulged at a time like this
and many of his hours were happily spent taking them to the movie theatre, to
the mall, to the gaming zones and to kiddie food joints. The amount of love and
bonding between them was enviable. Perhaps that was why Diwali 2012 changed this,
probably forever.
It was the night of Laxmi Poojan – the customary prayer to
the goddess of prosperity to bless the year ahead. For Kiaara and Arhaan, it
was just a long wait to the tradition of bursting firecrackers that followed
the prayer. It was the one day the family indulged in this ritual, just for
shagun. Even then, only the kids participated. It was a good balance between
sustainability and celebration that they had achieved.
After the flower pots and the zameen chakkars got over, it
was now the turn of the little green thing to come out. He kids’ favourite, the
surprisingly exciting rassi bomb.
He had never understood this crazy love for such
firecrackers. He could understand the ones with lights, they were happy and
cheery. These were just dull green things that produced a very loud sound.
Maybe there was a terrorist inside each one of us, he thought. Maybe that is
what lured his otherwise wonderfully behaved children to these destructive
things.
Dressed in a light blue kurta and white pyjama, Rushuv walked to the clearing in the ground, incense
in one hand and the bomb in another. Ironically enough, he felt like he was
some real army man, going to deploy it in some enemy land. He placed it on a
parapet instead, given his tall height, he knew bending too low wasn’t
advisable. He removed it the wick from the tape, stretched it away from the
body and and placed it carefully, with the wick facing the wall of a distant
building opposite him.
He brought the incense close to the wick, and waited for the
first sparks so he could runaway to safety. But what happened was this –
Incense to wick, wick turns black, he takes the incense away, waits for the
wick to cool down so he can give it another try and BAM! Without any notice or
indication whatsoever, the bomb went off, right in his face. Everything turned black. From now on, it would always be.
Almost a year into the incident, the day their dearest mamu
lost his vision, the day they spent tense hours outside the operation theatre,
everybody in the family is terrified to ring in the festival. Wounds are best left ignored, but it is at
times like these, that doing so becomes difficult. Arhaan and Kiaara took two
months, and lots of dawdling and cajoling from their beloved Godfather to
smile, jump and laugh again. To play with him again. They haven’t visited a
movie theatre since then, nor gone to an amusement park. He now stays in
Mumbai, they have more time with him but somehow him being around so much just
increases the pain. Arhaan knows he might never forgive himself for coaxing his
uncle into playing with danger. Kiaara might get over it, but it will take time
nevertheless.
And among all this, Rushuv, the victim of our story is
trying his best to keep the smile of his nephew and niece, imprinted in his
memory lest he should forget it and never see that beauty again.
