Gulping Guilt

The sky smiles with fireworks of all colors paint it like a canvas. City is lit up with shimmering fairy lights at every window, from two-storey building to skyscrapers high up in the clouds. The sound of crackers burst by children in the distant adds on to the festive feels.

In such a lit house, Visha is standing in the kitchen all decked up in a white floral flare kurta. A plate full of earthen lamps is kept on the platform. She lights them and walks to the living room with that plate in her hand.

Visha switches off the fans in the living room and glances at her father sitting in front of the temple. He is arranging flowers and fruits in place to prepare for the Laxmi Pooja. Her grandpa is watching TV at the other end of the room.

While walking towards the balcony, Visha’s attention is drawn by her grandma’s waving hand “Apply henna on my hands.” Grandma requested as she sits on the sofa.

Visha replies with a scoff “I don’t have time! Loads of work to be finished!”

Visha trudges till the end of the living room, cautious of the heavy plate in her hand; and gets inside the balcony.

She places 3 diyas on the balcony wall fence. Living on the sixth floor, Visha could see all the windows around flickering with red, blue, green and yellow colors. She turns around and spots her mom sitting beside dad. Her mom is all decked up in a plain bright navy blue saree with a paisley border and a traditional odhni worn for the Pooja.

Visha sits in front of the temple with her parents. As soon as the pooja starts, Visha shouts with a scowled face “Grandma! Reduce the volume of the T.V. It’s disturbing while conducting the pooja proceedings!”

Grandma reduces the volume making a snort noise.

As the pooja continues, the family suddenly stops when they smell something burning. Visha quickly gets up and runs into the kitchen. The dal ka sheera (an Indian Sweet) was left with the gas switched on! She switches it off and leaves the kitchen. Visha starts shouting at her grandma “I told you not to try and cook the sweet. You wouldn’t be able to! But you didn’t listen and the sweet which I wanted to cook for the festival is all burnt now!”

Visha in her white floral kurta walks in the living room and found a blurry vision of her own self shouting at grandma. The vision became clearer who was wearing a maroon kurta, Visha's last year’s Diwali outfit.

Visha quickly walks past her vision, her white flare swinging in the air, fading away the screams from the maroon kurta. She sits on the sofa and tries to console her grandma, who is on the verge of crying. She wants to stop her tears but is not able to....her hands go up towards her face to wipe off the tears but stops, “Shall we start with the pooja?” Dad interrupts her chain of visions.

Visha’s hands that were slightly in the air go down on her lap. Taking a deep breath, she sits with her parents. As the pooja is over, they start with the aarti, one by one, starting from her grandfather, then dad, mom and then Visha, who turns up towards the sofa to handover the aarti plate to her grandma, but stops in consciousness.

Visha realizes that her grandma isn't actually sitting there and turns again towards the pooja place. She glances at the little home placed temple and her grandma’s photo towards the right, with flower garland. With wet eyes, she turns towards the sofa.

This time she sees a vision of herself sitting on the sofa and applying henna to her grandma, both smiling bright. Grandma is having dal ka sheera and also feeding Visha some spoons.

Visha gulps in what felt like a lump in her heart and walks up to the kitchen to help her mom with her chores.

Her mom tastes the burnt sheera and says “Last year your grandma burnt this sweet, and this time you filled in her absence.”

Visha is taken aback as she realizes the emptiness. “This year’s Diwali seems so dry and different.” Visha replies.

Mom counters Visha saying “Yet so similar!” and she gulps in a bite and smirks on tasting the badly burnt sheera.