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After Diwali

When the last recalcitrant Delhiite has choked on his firecrackers and blamed the farmers of Punjab;

When the abused cow has looked on bemusedly at the Vasu Baras worshippers;

When the Made-in-China lights have either electrocuted the middle child or died altogether;

When the brothers are back home after hearing subtle dowry demands from their brothers-in-law;

When the tacky gold jewelry of dubious caratage bought under Akshaya Tritiya has induced buyer's regret;

When the unopened boxes of soan papdi have turned rancid and been given to sundry watchmen, postmen, maids and drivers;

When the holy librandus have argued themselves sore over the environment;

When the bizarre-most of kandeels have caused nervous desensitization;

When the same kitschy fiber "gifting" has made its final round and cracked unusably;

When the vegan has gotten off their high horse to sneak "just one" kaju katli;

When the toes of both feet have joined the fingers of both hands in being burned at Muhurat trading;

Into that after-beej of quietude,

my Father, let my morning awake.

Published in GloMag December 2024

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