The trouble in paradise

I met a friend sometimes back, let’s call her Jasmine. She looked quite the same, except that she had put on a lot of weight and had put on some make-up to conceal those freckles which appeared before time. Time isn’t always the best healer, I thought… she smiled at me as if she understood the underlying thoughts. I started some conversation fleetingly so that there is no discomfort in the air. She sensed that, I suppose and she told me that things aren’t right with her and there is trouble in her paradise.

I was not shocked or taken aback because she has been throwing hints on her rocky marriage to me for quite sometimes now. He doesn’t listen, doesn’t care anymore, has lost his sensitivity, there is no charm etc etc. I was baffled by the series of whines. My concern wasn’t her only marriage, my concern was also the hundreds of marriages which were breaking every day. I shifted my gaze to her and asked “Did you try hard enough to make it work?” she was too angry to respond and it was plausible. According to her, is she the only one responsible to make it work? Aren’t they partners? Or aren’t they soul mates? Aren’t they supposed to work it out ‘together’?

There are number of ways to get your marriage from hard rocks to a gentle walk in the park, they say. You go see a marriage counsellor, talk to friends, enable healthy communication; you see there are so many ways to skin the cat. But the bottom line is- why isn’t it working for you? Majority thought they tried enough and their partner is not into them anymore so it’s better for them to part ways. My question is what drew you apart in the first place? I understand if someone wants to come out of an abusive relationship, or cheating partners or infidelity but people splitting because the chemistry isn’t glistening anymore and not blinding anyone with the neon flashes like it did in the beginning is way beyond my understanding. I also fail to understand why it becomes a matter of ego; he didn’t talk first, she didn’t help in rekindling the romance, he isn’t trying hard and et al.

On the flipside… maybe you should have had the chance to change/replace your siblings too. Umm let me see, the reason could be that they were not giving you enough space. They didn’t have good toilet etiquettes. Better if you could choose/replace/leave parents too. The earlier ones were too complaining and dissatisfied. Mother was too domesticated. She was not ambitious, we couldn’t relate. Parents were not progressive either. Sounds convenient?

 I told Jasmine the same thing I am gonna write here. “You didn’t try hard enough”. I understand your marriage is rocky and stormy and it is beyond repair, but you can’t choose a port in storm. Can you? I told her that she is opting the easy way out. Love is reverence and worship. It is not a bandage for your dirty sores. You can’t make a love stew out of contempt and indifference. Once you are capable of love, you are incapable of anything less.

Divorce is an easy way to end a stormy relationship; hard part is to stay in the storm and save each other from getting wrecked. And we don’t try hard enough to save each other, because perhaps while taking our vows we never take the vow seriously which binds the couple in a unit. They become a unit, sans ego. They are like the beautiful pair of urchins, which flies gleefully in the sky and fades away together. Marriage is not easy, if you want easy do not get married. If you get married; bear, bow, accept – and be grateful God has given you a chance to love beyond means.

Different!

While having lunch at work, we started to discuss hobbies… few other females joined in. Larger part of the group said they can go around spending spades of time in shopping. They said if left in the shopping mall from morning to evening, they can tirelessly choose and reject dresses, jewellery and et al. Other common hobby was cooking. They said they love to cook and experiment with dishes. Then came watching TV, particularly serials and reality show but no one to my dismay, said anything about reading or writing or any other supposedly time consuming and rhetorical activity…

I recalled my old days and thought how everybody would look at me when I told them that my favourite author is Salman Rushdie. Back in college, when everybody went gaga over the work of Chetan Bhagat, I hated his book. When asked I told them Bhagat is not an author but story teller and his story doesn’t amuse me. I was smirked at and looked at in disbelief. I realized few appreciate beauty of poetic, long-winded, beautiful and articulately written sentences. I also recognized there will be handful who will understand that Mr Rushdie doesn’t narrate stories, he writes and he writes adroitly. I was an exception in my group for not just liking but adoring his work.

I also realized that I never liked dresses which looked like fluffy puddings, whenever I went to select a dress for my Fresher’s, Farewell and et al parties. I could never like the piles of outfits, which were supposedly “in” and ended up wearing jeans and sweatshirts since I didn’t like the glossy and fluffy party wear. Same went with the high-heeled monstrous sandals, which I could never apparel myself with. I wore my usual flats, much to the dismay of fashion police. The only saving grace perhaps was that I was never, ever hideously dressed.

So after these contemplations, I realized that I am part of the minority group. I like reading and especially reading Rushdie’s work, I prefer talking to people than spending time in the malls looking for ‘God knows what’, I also feel the best phase of life is not ‘school/college days’ but my days with V post marriage. I also feel any road to peak of success is paved with sacrifices and regrets and I am up for none.

Hail minorities!

The joys of beginnings : Happy New Year

I have begun this year with a reflective and contemplative mood. This year, unlike the all past years has started moderately without the hullabaloos and uproar of parties or revelries.

After coming back from work on 31st, I wasn’t very keen on going anywhere. Guess I have become one hell of a lazy bum. V said he will like to do what I wished to do since he didn’t have specific plans. For the last three years V and I have been swarming with friends G & A for a feisty New Year party at their place. Some days back G & A were blessed with a baby girl ‘M’, so she is not even a month old and I was wondering if with a little child the new year party will be a convenient idea. G & A insisted that we have our ritualistic party. So we spent the New Year with G, A, and ‘little M’. Little M delighted us with her teeny tiny yawns and super cute expressions. I realized the toothless smile is the most beautiful creation of God. I was sated.

It has been a gentle and mellow start to what promises to be a very special year for V and I. We are hopeful, happy, content and really looking forward to amazing times ahead! I wish you unlimited joy and happiness too. Wish all of you a very Happy New Year.

The night has begun 

A December red star shined and vanished,

In the silent tide wave of a blue ocean,

A January pure love emerged and waved,

Mid summer madness

And the wind blows again 

Some more drops fall 

 And the wind beckons

 My coral made bones 

 Nestles my frame in hug 

 Absorbs my conscience 

 

And the wind blows again

 Flitting the leaves hard 

 Pebbles shine as the rays fall

 Tessellating the road 

 It addled my brains 

 And I stood in a frail frame

A birthday to remember

I thought to myself today if I have become a grown-up. I wondered if now I am supposed to have that regal poise when I talk about me or when somebody asks me what I want for my birthday.

 The thought arose when my birthday just went by and I didn't feel sad about it. I remember, when I was a child my birthdays were of supreme importance. Anything else around my birthday was a mere footnote in time. And anyone who forgot wishing me was temporarily ticked off my list and how I always thought of myself as the queen in one of the ferret fantasies and foibles. I would always think of my birthdays as the astrally blithed days when everybody around me would look cosmically and eternally happy. And now when I turn 28, I am not a child anymore! 

Life is strange in its own ways. You feel bogged down by petty things.  Like yesterday, I felt awful about something.  I didn't know what. Since morning my day was dripping boredom.  One incident dangling from another made my sloppy mood grow bigger.  I behaved erratically with V also.  I lamented growing up to have become like this. 

The only incentive of growing up is perhaps having V in my life. Thank you Lord for small mercies! 

Happy birthday to me after all :)

As you dislike it

I was scheduling a training program at work. It is one messy job to begin with. You try talking everyone into a common time, which should match with the facilitator, you write polite emails requesting them to do their good and you even drill those mean heretics to follow your norms. It is exhausting!

You send them meeting invites; appointment request and even polite emails pleading a confirmation in the end, but to your dismay you end up meeting them or calling them to see who is turning up and who is not. How difficult is it for the people to write a one-line email/confirmation.

After receiving my polite invite somebody at work walks up to me and asks with discern if it rains will this useless lecture be canceled? I knew I was giving caviar to the general… I looked at his face which still had the grin he flogged while asking that question and I imagined tying him to a stake and shooting full arrows like Saint Sebastian. I smiled at my vivid visual and said “No” with pressed mouth.

I am too tired of basic lack of etiquettes and the thankless attitude of people. How I wish Miss Manners could float away their impertinence in her magic carpet.

Those teeny weeny things

A colleague at work showed me her 20 months daughter’s dress. It was a lovely pink top and white skirt. The cloth was so small that even if I wished it to cover my head it would have left it half uncovered.

It is so natural for parents to revel in the cuteness of their children. They find their never land in those glorious toothless smile. I can only imagine how beautiful it would be to wake up to the smell of babies. The tiny things smell like freshly baked vanilla muffin and they gurgle in your lap.

The Seven Wonders of the World should have also included babies because it is wondrous how they make their parents bask in endless ephemeral happy phase

This post is dedicated to my colleague’s daughter who is cute as bug’s ear!

May lord bless her always

Paddling my own canoe

Last Sunday was fun. I went out with bhai, had a hearty meal at ‘Urban Tadka’. Went to Crosswords, and bought few books. While browsing through the books and reading a few paragraphs from few I realized I am subliminally drawn to SR or Salman Rushdie’s books. I read a lot of books written by him and have thoroughly enjoyed every time I read anything written by him, even if it is a small newspaper column. V doesn’t like SR. He argues that SR’s book lacks content and he just writes longwinded paragraphs, dense phrases and idioms. He doesn’t write about anything, he just writes complicated English. I on the other hand do not agree at all. SR is one of the few things V & I are not on the same page with. I often tell him that saying “SR is not a good author” is like saying the water is not wet.

This time I bought two children’s books which SR wrote. I have started reading ‘Haroun and the Sea of Stories’ and loving it. The ruins of an old city, the allegorical description in the book and the character of young Haroun spews delight.

I also bought ‘Luka and the Fire of Life’, another children’s book by SR and a Lauren Weisberger’s book for guilty pleasure. I love her books also. She writes glamorous books which are ridiculously irresistible. The protagonist has a shiny, glossy, manicured life and carries a quilted leather bag. She wears posh outfits and returns to her musty apartment. She longs for love, wants to create a niche, sometimes feels energized and other times is enervated. She is wild, weird, naïve, juvenile and demented. We find ourselves in some or whole parts of the tale!

************

Yesterday I was again alone after two weeks. Bhai left for Nagpur and I came back to my empty apartment again. I closed the door behind me still talking to Ma and assuring her that all is well. Bhai called several times to just chat and I really missed him. Yesterday Dad and I also chatted for long. My Ma & Pa-in law also called to check on me and the telephonic-conversation went on for an hour. I changed, washed and ate while chatting with them. It was 10 in the night when I finally asked my Ma-in law to hang up, take rest and assured I will be fine. I was exhausted. I touched my forehead and felt my palpitations were quivering like some sea animal. I went to my bedroom, changed the sheets, switched on the AC and took this month’s Reader’s digest and read till V pinged, we Skyped for some time. I told him how much I missed him.

I read Reader’s digest and fell asleep while reading something on parental trap with the book in my hand. There was some loud, scratchy song which was playing last night. At half past 12 it stopped, I think then I started to fall asleep. Some pigeons dashed against the Ac at 4 (maybe) and I was jolted with the loud noise. I got up and saw I had some more time to sleep, so switched off  the lights and slept till my maid rang the doorbell at 7.30
You can get tired doing nothing also!

Days without you IV

I watched 'Samantha Who’ today and I laughed hard. Bhai doesn’t enjoy watching tv series so after he was through with IPL I watched it while having dinner. It was nice after a tiring day at Borivali. I came across few nasty things in the morning so I got worked up and was in a pretty foul mood. V called from London and he said he could sense that I am pretty upset… didn’t tell him why but I assured him that I am good after speaking with him.

I am not finding the climate bad now; I am just finding the air rueful. It is like, I have a chip on my shoulder. You know how feeling disordered is? It is like every jot in the universe knows that you are blue so it just shows you how much more gloomy it can get.

I have to go to work tomorrow and it will get crazier. I just hope I do not get to interact with those few irritating clowns at work. And I get back home fine.

The moon has a faint glow again and the smoke laden sky looks dark and gloomy. It looks so metaphorical outside. An artist can look at the sullen sky, dip his creative nib in this ether and come up with a stroke of genius. 

Days without you III

Mumbai has become hot...really hot. Today while I was coming back from my office canteen to my building I reckoned how excruciating the heat has become. The dry, parched land and the blinding sun flashing ruthlessly on you is too much to take.  I went out with an office colleague. She had some stuff to buy and I tagged along for buying few goodies. But stepping out of air conditioned office became a huge mistake. M kept on talking about her visitors at home, how her fridge went bad last night and how Gujarat is hotter than any other place.  After walking for sometimes and then settling for the shuttle she reckoned that the jerking sun has become a streak of fire and if we do not run for our lives, we will roast.

I am waiting for the monsoon. I am desperately waiting for V to come back here, in our home. And when rain comes, we will sit on our wooden chairs in our huge balcony… we will talk weather and will admire the small trinkets of clouds and small puddles which will appear because of heavy rains. We will listen to the pitter-patter of rains and will adoringly glance at each other. Then V and I will sip on our hot coffee porcelain mugs and will think how beautiful life is.

My fancy head is accumulating throngs of wants… they are piling faster than some tarantine movie.

Days without you: II

I feel like sleeping a lot today… maybe because bhai is here, or maybe because tomorrow I have an off so I could just lay in a corner, read books, eat goodies and sleep again. I wouldn't have to run through rigorous assignments, brain racking HR stuffs and a recent work thing ‘Budgets’. I realized that I hate numbers so anything involving them makes me tired. I love my job, my assignments but when ad-hoc tasks involving numbers land at my desk I go frenzy like kitten on hot tin roof.

I came to terms with a fun fact about me. I realized that I am good at analysis. I always thought I can be used elsewhere but analysis. Seems a new side of me has started liking it. All is well everywhere, except that I feel so incomplete. It is like a certain kind of hollowness which you feel at times. I feel my head like an empty can. Maybe it is because V is not with me… it brings an unsettling gush of restlessness which gets hard to tame. Sometimes life plays foul games with you, where you are an unwilling surfer who waits patiently for the game to get over because they have no choice, but to play.

I am too sleepy so thought will give my sloppy mood sometime so that my usual rebounds. Adios are so irksome. See you soon with a better me.

Days without you: I

Moments pass, days fade and weeks goes by… before we realize it is another day, new week and fresh month. I have been thinking last month, same time that V would go to London and I have so much to do for his stuff and packing and et al. Today he is miles away and I am here.

After coming back from work I watched my usual:  Dharma & Greg, Packed to the Rafters and watching One Tree Hill now. In between I also chatted with family; while I was standing and looking at little eddies of wind which whirled dust and torn rags. For a change, the climate is better than the super-hot yesterday.

Coming back to the television series, Packed to the Rafters is amazing. I love the characters in it. They act and sound so much like my own people. Today when Julie danced with her dad and accepted that he is going senile, I was chocked with emotions. Seeing the duo in the series opened my flood-gates and I felt relieved after I cried my heart out. There was this noise inside my head since V left. This noise didn’t let me sleep and bristle the hair of my back. But now I feel much better.

I laughed my heart out watching Dharma & Greg and Everybody Loves Raymond. I sometimes wonder, what I would do if I were to live without TV or internet or books. BTW I have started reading another one by Erma Bombeck. She writes funny and I love her writing. It is over the top comedy… She is like Martini, shaken but not stirred.

Yesterday ma-in-law made me chocolate yogurt – a choco-berry actually. It was yum. After lunch I felt nice lapping on my dessert. She also gave me some Swiss chocolates to nibble. I was lovelorn and it was chocolate. Need I say more?

My thoughts are running frenzy and I am writing them as they are playing blizzard in my brain. So I am perceptibly ‘phenomenally distracted’. The moon has a faint unsettled band and there is clumsy noise of the vehicles on street. Today I am tactless as well as evasive… Guess my hobby of dabbling in myself has outgrown me!

A prodigal friend

Few days back I felt awful about something. There was a very good friend of mine who turned into one of those blighted characters who do nothing but devastate. I noticed that long back but after a hearty conversation with a close pal I realized how despicable he has become. Somehow learning and accepting the ‘forgive and forget’ story has been very difficult for me. I have never been able to bring my head round to this idea of first forgiving the contemptible act and then forgetting that.


My prodigal friend does it again. He has always been this dissolute. He would do things utterly wasteful and take it for granted that he will be forgiven. I have often given forgiveness a thought and have tried to implement. But here in this situation I think I will pass. I thought and re-thought, groaned inwardly and even made mincemeats of my principles. I knew, not forgiving this person will later lather me in my own guilt. But I was ready to take chances. My head felt heavy. Every good memory with this friend played slideshow in my heart. I have to do it – I thought. I have to throw this person out of my life and for good.

After my much contemplated arguments and theories settled, I felt him as a yoke around my neck. So I decided I am going to cleanse my mind and heart of his misdoing or whatever. I felt my burning temples caused by my incensed mind go frantic. If I have decided to snip any further contact with this person I should let him know. I can’t just be angry at his obnoxious behavior and then when we cross path sometimes later, he shouldn’t expect any exchange of pleasantries. So I wrote to him stating how thoughtless his actions were, how hollow his ideas are about me and how much of a thankless job he has done as a friend. After writing to him, I felt very light. My circumscribed thoughts ran all over and patted my back for letting go of my anger and letting go of an ugly scar.

I wish he also trims his bloated existence on others and gets a worthy life. Isn’t goodness supposed to spread through osmosis?

Sweet little things

While walking on the side tracks of my office glancing on beds of shoe flowers and chrysanthemums I felt happy. It reminded me of the small garden we had in Dhanbad. My mom would plant all kinds of flowers and grandpa would tell me how those flowers were essential. He always had fondness for beli or Bella flowers in English. He said they are smaller but never pettier. They had the most amazing smell I ever sniffed. I would often pick them and keep it in my hand thinking that someday the beautiful whiff of the flower will transfer to me. It is strange how very small things leave a mark and how big things fade in oblivion!

***

Today while having my evening cup of coffee, a pantry guy offered me his hand-made ginger tea. I do not like tea. I hate the after taste, tea leaves in my mouth so I avoid it as much as I can. But this time I asked him to pour me a full cup for I was touched by the way he was considerate. It has been ages since people asked you for a cup of tea because they were making one for themselves.

And so it goes...

I have started falling in love with Mumbai. The place has a spirit…it has a lackadaisical pulse, an unnerving energy…  a rambunctious joy it hurls on you every time you need a loving embrace to get going.

The afternoon is sweltering today; I am so much waiting for the rain. The weather is humid and hot. Not that I don’t know humidity is good for your skin, it makes you sweat and look like you washed your face in moonlight.

My balcony has a view unlike the other houses in Mumbai. Looks like I used clout to get a place which has three balconies and an unobstructed view from each. It is wonderful to sit there and watch the wonderful evening light bending and pirouetting everything in gentle caress. The plants in my balcony swarm to make striking shrubbery. From the pots, money plants sprung like green liana of smoke and a small rose bud is the only nib point of red in the vista. When that warm breeze ossifies in me, I feel it melting on my fingertips.

Sometimes I feel I get to think a lot, which makes me weak in the knees and I feel like I have been wrung out. But hasn’t someone said, “There’s a joy in delirium only mad men know.” 

Today it looks like a sloshy cloud has come down and given this city a big hug!

new year and more....

So the New Year begins. A year which is erroneously called as an end to mankind… well I really do not know, if I should stick to my resolution of losing a few kilos, when the motivation is so tepid.

Okay, here I am phenomenally distracted yet again! I thought I shall put up agglomeration of random thoughts, probably better sculpted this time. But my distraction is so chronic now. I think I have been so busy setting my house and habitually checking if things are in order that my distraction comes to my brain like a blizzard in full throttle.

Talking about the new year, I had also thought I would buy fewer clothes now. This is not a resolution but a conscious effort to keep my wardrobe growing like the burgeoning population. I felt a lot of clothes are too expensive, short or incongruent with my lifestyle. When we moved in to this new place, I noticed all kind of clothes I would seldom wear…or maybe ‘will not wear ever’. Some were in sequins, some netted, others jazzy, and so on.

Right now I’m sitting on a cane chair, comfortably cushioned. I look through the balcony trinkets of clouds giving way to an evening. There are huge black rocks formed due to shattering and breaking of mountains. This would have prevented growth of the swatches of grass. The houses built on the hilly terrain looks like the you are maneuvering a huge tray full of cups, saucers, spoons and sugar cubes…. clattering with each other… And the night comes along

Aurus, Juhu Road

This was long overdue!

First year of marriage completes and you want to celebrate every joyous second that passes by. You look out for a perfect place to spend the evening when the sound of your padding heartbeat grows on seeing the glint in each other's eye. The flickering light of the candle from your candle light dinner softly tunes new harmony and you see day following night like flapping of bird’s wing. To celebrate such pleased moments, we chose a place and thank God it was as fit as a fiddle. I had to write about one of the best restaurants I went to celebrate this togetherness.

Aurus is a fine dining restaurant and lounge bar on the beachfront of Juhu. It is difficult to locate Aurus since it is not even marked by any sign. My husband and I drove past the restaurant once since there was no sign/board anywhere. That is about locating the joint, which is actually just before the Reid and Taylor showroom, which can be easily missed.

The inside of Aurus is dimly lit, which is little uninviting compared to the well-lit outdoor area. The decor of the restaurant is gorgeous otherwise. There is a big hype about watching the sun down from Aurus. Almost all the tables get booked months before so there are few lucky tables, which can even gaze onto a quiet stretch of Juhu beach.

The food we ordered was good. The hospitality of our attendant was outstanding. We were timely attended to and were advised when needed. The dishes we tried had a really appealing name but I can’t remember it. My platter of peppered cottage cheese on organic broccoli tasted great with peach and strawberry daiquiri.  Our crusted potatoes and chicken were great starters. We enjoyed our food and indulged in rich chocolate dessert to rejoice the fainter moonlight of the growing night.

Aurus’ alluring open-air vibes make it a great place to wine and dine. 

Happy First Anniversary!

As time crawled by and my thoughts fountain-ed like pigeons in the sky, I wondered if my life is dreamy. I rolled in the dough of mesmerizing togetherness, fleeting shadow of cloudy days, hem of bliss on crack of dawn and light of my life. I looked at him and silently thanked him for the joyous time I had spent, for the unfathomable pleasure I have received, for multitude of right chords we have strung together and for a new beginning of blissfully wedded life.


With our nibs dipped in the ink of love we sketched our dreams on page one. The love-filled thoughts had accommodated itself on the first page of our life. We had made the thoughts rest on the maiden book of our life for the last year. We were writing a story, a story which involved two people meant to love each other. This story had to be written on a sheet, naturally decorated and dyed with love. We platonically entwined in each other’s soul when a year crawled by because this was the beginning. This was our paper anniversary after all!

19th November, last year we took our vows. We were made one universally. We celebrated that feeling of togetherness and love. Being with someone you love is a beautiful but immeasurable feeling. You feel your life, all of a sudden has been topped by beautiful golden crown. On suddenly noticing new-fangled blossoming all around, you emerge out of your cocoon and turn into a beautiful butterfly.

Life is like that, enjoy togetherness and live life with someone you love. Heaven is right here!

Insomnia is a lovely drug

Last night I had an uncanny dream. I have met a lot of people who say they do not remember their dreams, some say they alter their dreams; some claim to run it as desired and some can’t help seeing nightmares all the time.  I do not belong to one or maybe typical kind. I see them, I remember them and I discuss them. My dream, habitually are interesting. They are sometimes pretty idiosyncrasies and sometimes peripheral in the mind. They sometimes disturb my draining trudge by stretched sleep patterns; they scrunch in my mind like the empty packs of wafers, they mistreat my mind and sometimes make me talk spiritedly.

The dream washes you like those huge sea waves. The tidal waves sore high, make noise in your mind and intersperse salt. When you rouse from the splash, you taste the saline water and think I am ideal, which is nothing but the euphemistic tag for fools. 

My dream was about a woman whose face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides. She had big earlobes which gently compressed her head like thigh master. She was so lonely in the vale profound like the solitary reaper that she dreaded singing for she could just hear her own voice. So she didn’t sing or reap in the sow-field. She rather sat in melancholy stripping her of tirelessness. She wished someone to come rescue her from the valley of wretchedness. Her thoughts tumbled in her head breaking customary alliances. She heard an unearthly howl from the attic of her heart. Lost in the cobwebs of reflection she pictured a scene with surreal quality because she could see an air balloon rising and falling in the air. Insignia like ice blew in her manifestation and she wished the balloon to come closer!

The balloon flew like skin of loose silk blown against a wall. The hot-air balloon drifted slowly over a bottomless chasm and suddenly came floating towards her. She could not reach out to holding the rope. Despair rose on her when the balloon started deflating. She felt despair murmuring in her ear “not this time, there is any escape”. There is nothing she could do to break this impasse. The anticipated journey to uncharted territories had been nip in the bud. She saw the balloon sinking into the abyss.

Happy Diwali

I looked at my inbox flooded with emails containing diwali wishes. I do not really have a count on how happy I have been celebrating diwalis. But one thing that has always been of joy and profoundness, is diwali holidays.

Ram killed Ravan, came back to Ayodhya. People were overwhelmed and in celebration mood so they lit up the city and decorated it with every possible bell and embellishment!

May the stories of Mythology always enchant one's life with its positive rays and bring happiness like the tinkling of diyas and bright chandeliers. Wish everyone a very happy and prosperous diwali!