Cracker Contests and Other Diwali Tales

The highlight of Diwali was always the ‘who-will-do-it-first contest’ – the rush of trying to be the first ones out with the noisiest bang as early as you could on Diwali morning. We were also usually provoked by the Diwali-eve taunts of ‘Hah, it’s not going to be you for sure’. At Gokulam, this challenge was with everyone within audible distance. It wasn’t going to be easy, because to technically win the war, you had to be the first one lighting the cracker AFTER your bath (the Ganga snaanam acha? one).  

We usually made long drawn-out plots. “4 am”, my brother would whisper, conspiratorially “no 3.30, let’s set the alarm and wake up before anyone else”. This was some sort of an impossible feat, since he needed to be kicked thoroughly to wake up even at 4 pm! However, gamely we always nodded heady for battle.

Our wake up time also meant that amma and patti had to wake up much earlier than our target, to make sure the boiler was lit (no geysers then), our clothes arranged, the oil, nalangu and the incomparable ‘Diwali Lehiyam’ all in place. After some groggy disoriented moments, we usually trooped in a line waiting for patti to massage our heads.

For the non-beauty parlour going population then, patti’s oil massages were a patented experience. On non-Diwali days, we would keep begging her to keep massaging. Laughing, she would always narrate a story of how so-and-so slept off during an oil massage and had to be woken up (quite plausible). On Diwali, however, we were in a rush. Enough patti, quickly, finish it patti – all available short-cuts were taken to finish the nalangu, patti’s oil massage song and the betelnut. We could only think of the cracker contest finish line. A short bathroom argument later, we would hurriedly fall flat at amma’s and patti’s feet to collect our mandatory blessings and new clothes.

Even before they could speak so much as a word, let alone bless us with the 'study well' etc. (we didn’t care about studies in any case) we would race off to change and rush out, ‘saram’ in hand. It was usually just a few minutes that separated the winner with the also-rans. Either we would groan hugely and blame everyone around including those in the house who were still asleep, or we would whoop and jump around to celebrate our being THE ONE. However, after that early morning excitement and hyperactivity, things would kind of dull down a bit. A series of sarams, kuruvi vedis and Lakshmi vedis later, we were usually whittled down to fidgeting with bijlis the smallest, cheapest and most loyal of all crackers, by the time the sun rose.

In this melee, where were the men of the house? Thatha usually woke up but sat oiled but unbathed, watching the ruckus or giving an odd shout here and there at someone. Appa of course, was a different story, wonderfully managing to sleep through all the noise and firecrackers till it was quite light. Except, that is, on that one Diwali.

Converging after the peace of the cracker contest, with cousins and neighbours, with the heaviness of sweets inside, we started off on rockets. Stuck into a bottle, a scientific forum like discussion preceded the safest angle to light it in. During one launch, though, our predictions seemed to have gone all wrong and the rocket, suddenly turned and sped with the greatest determination right into an open bedroom window. It had chosen carefully, the room where my dad slept.

As we all raced up the stairs, we were only partly worried about where it fell mostly it was apprehension about the shelling we were sure to get from all the elders. A sleepy-eyed appa viewed us rubbing his head, trying to figure out what had woken him up. The extinguished rocket lay on the floor, satisfied apparently at having achieved its goal. Fortunately, the only damage done was that appa was abruptly woken up.

We got off, lightly that time, partially because amma and patti found this to be a hilarious story. Irked at being the earliest risers year after year, watching the men wander around or sleep, I suspected that they might have even deviously considered making this errant rocket an annual ritual!

Fortunately for appa, that was the only year this rude awakening happened for him. He woke himself up early enough to stay out of the way of rockets, thereafter. The story of the rocket through the window circulated with great speed as we wandered around wishing and getting wished. Along with the bijlis and the cracker contests the story got spicier and more fascinating. 

There were many more tales during Diwali - the 'Vengaya Vedi', (onion crackers that you throw and burst), the cape and gun that heralded the festival a month in advance, the 'collection' we got from hordes of relatives who came. Read also about the errant busvanam story in another of my posts. However, some stories stand out, and the rocket-dad is one of them.  Today, it is a part of the numerous ‘tellable’ tales of the Gokulam folklore.

(pix courtesy: creativecommons)