Sure, as kids we had fun. We had
blasts, literally, though I have no knowledge of anyone blowing off
their thumb through fiery explosive malfunction, or lose their tooth
due to certain multi-concentrated ball of grain (called kal-urundai,
roughly translated as rounded stone).)
But as a kid, following the rituals of
the so-called religion and practices, I must admit that I truly
enjoyed the event, alongside my two brothers (later, another bloke,
my best friend, joined as blood brother because, well, it must be a
cosmic reason).
Our very early days of Deepavali, apart
from some good food (we were very poor, we can afford only some good
dishes and stuff on occasions like this) was to get to know our
relatives, most of whom were as strange as Klingon to Captain James T. Kirk.
We used to visit our relatives on these
occasions, rather than celebrate it ourselves. We have gracious ones,
(my late uncle Ramasamy @Viswanathan, a demi-god) and some others,
some great, some okay, some low-life blokes who appear right out of
being dunk in a vat of cheap alcohol.
Early morning all of us would go to
temple praying to god that I don't believe in, than come to to great
breakfast I believe in. Alas, I have faith in great Indian-styled
breakfast. Period. Even that, I indulge very rarely. I prefer Nasi
Lemak or Mee Hoon Goreng with sambal on the side.
Then, there would be TV specials, many
locally produced piss-pots mainly to exploit the given budget, and,
possibly, by male producers, onto the female artistes. We were not
interested. There were good old Tamil films that will always and
still do get my attention. I am not ashamed of it, even if it has MGR
(google that initials) in it.
To me, the best part of the whole
festival actually takes place the night before Deepavali (like the
night before Christmas, Mr. Tim Burton). All of the family members
would gather in the prayer to the late family members of the family,
especially my grandfather, one Mr. Shankaran Nair, whose name I
adapted for my son.
There would be an offering of rice,
chicken curry, vegetables, etc on banana leaf. In the years gone by,
there would be a bottle of Guiness Stout (apparently, my grandpa's
favourite drink), but due to political correctness, it has since been
replaced with plain water (poor grandpa).
What follows is the usual prayer ritual
(don't want to bore you on that, you can call me to find out more but
you have to give me your Credit Card number), and then WHAMMO!
Sorry grandpa, but fun starts thereof.
Dad would mix the whole rice, chicken pieces, vege, whatever curry,
anything, into balls and give each of us one. It's what, I think,
they serve in HEAVEN!
My Deepavali ends there. The next day is just visit to the temple in early morning, breakfast, expecting
visitors, sneaking time to take a nap, watch more useless TV
programs, nap again, and then thinking about when to go back (to
wherever you think you belong to).
There you go. A very bad David
Finch-esque ending for you. But what the heck, Happy Deepavali
Everyone. After all, it only happens once in a year and we are ONLY
getting older. Ta-daaa.....
