Dhanteras fantasy in silver

Fortunately, there are many ways to celebrate Diwali that do not involve the tedious rituals of bursting crackers and playing cards. Illumination is, however, mandatory. The canopy of fairy lights that thriving markets sprout annually is a mood-lifter even if you want to have nothing to do with shopping. But shopping during this season is inescapable. I’m typing these very words on a borrowed laptop, waiting for a magical Diwali discount to suddenly materialise and lift spirits immeasurably, like Shah Rukh Khan in Brahmāstra. If only Dhanteras brought with it sizeable discounts on overpriced laptops with a seductive interface you hate for loving.

There are other desires that Diwali foists upon you if you’re not careful. I recently found myself at a tiny home décor shop, making the carpenter promise that he’ll deliver a pouffe and gigantic cushions, both dressed in floral fabrics he has designed, before Diwali. This without having any plans to entertain around the time. Something about requiring a delivery before Diwali makes the social misfit in me feel like I belong. It’s what people do at this time of year: they fuss over sandals and serviettes. Surely I can develop a short-term, if largely fake, interest in home improvement around this most auspicious of occasions.

Then there are the Diwali gifts you receive, if you’re lucky. Or rather, “lucky.” Somehow, one never gets the mithaais one actually craves. The gold-lidded dry fruit boxes with velvety compartments are a stand-in for everything that drives you crazy about your parents’ generation. And the shiny vases so don’t go with your cushions and curtains. And thus begins the only kind of recycling we are a global leader in: the circular economy of unimaginative Diwali gifts.

AND THUS BEGINS THE ONLY RECYCLING WE ARE A GLOBAL LEADER IN: THE CIRCULAR ECONOMY OF UNIMAGINATIVE DIWALI GIFTS