Greetings Fellow Firework Lovers!
Here in Dharamshala, Diwali has well and truly arrived.
It started about a week ago, before the festival had even officially begun. The little kids couldn’t wait. As soon as the firecrackers hit the shops, they were tossing bangers here, there and everywhere. Luckily, their pocket money only stretched to the smaller stuff: squibs, chocolate bombs, sutli bombs, names that sound playful until one goes off next to you.
Fast forward to tonight and those childish squibs have escalated into something else entirely. These aren’t just firecrackers. They’re bona fide bombs, designed for maximum bang. The metallic tang of gunpowder lingers long after the shockwaves have settled.
From a distance it’s festive: a taste of the evening to come. But up close it’s more like urban warfare. I’m sitting at a café, waiting for my dinner to arrive, when a huge blast goes off right outside. I jump so hard I practically leave my seat, much to the amusement of the other patrons. Seconds later, another detonation sends a shockwave through the whole place. I can only hope I get through my meal without launching spoonfuls of curry across the room.
I wouldn’t mind so much if each explosion came with a little warning, a whistle, a fizzle, even a polite series of beeps. Anything to prepare my body for the jolt. Instead, each blast comes out of nowhere, an invisible hand slapping me across the chest.
By dusk the valley has transformed. The random bangs of the afternoon give way to a steady barrage. Every rooftop and courtyard launches its contribution to the noise. The echoes multiply through the canyon, each blast ricocheting until the hills themselves seem to shudder. Rockets scream upward, bursting into colour. Rattler crackers sizzle, bangers crack like gunfire.
From my balcony I have a front row seat to the courtyard below. Some of my fellow guests have laid out flower mandalas and lined the place with tea lights. Our landlord has stocked up on a stash of crowd-pleaser fireworks and delights in setting them off one by one, sometimes dancing a little too close to the sparks. He laughs the whole way through, and the guests whoop and applaud. I have the best view in the house from the first-floor balcony, but even here, the sparkles, smoke and noise threaten to overwhelm.
In the West, fireworks tend to be just for the spectacle. But here in India, they carry a deeper significance. Diwali celebrates the victory of light over darkness, wisdom over ignorance, and good over evil – a victory retold in Hindu stories and rekindled each year with lamps and fireworks.
As I lie in my bed, the barrage continues deep into the night. Every now and then, another enormous blast jolts me awake. By sunrise the celebrations have dwindled to the occasional bang here and there. I make my weary way to my favourite café, short on sleep but walking with a smile, happy in the knowledge that good has triumphed over evil for another year.
That was my Diwali. May yours be filled with light, laughter, and maybe a little less noise.
Happy Diwali!!
Jay
(short video below)
Sounds like a blast (cheesy pun intended). Your view from your balcony also looks like a cracker.
Ah, fireworks. Funny how, when you get older (at least as old as I am), there are all those "be careful" and "what if..." thoughts surrounding the joy I/we used to have as kids setting off all sorts of incendiary devices in all sorts of places without a care in the world. Good you enjoyed your Diwali old friend, even if you're somewhat sleep deprived 🎆 Travel well and safely...