When we say change, we often think change for the good. However, sometimes nature forces us to change despite our reluctance. We grow up, we mature, we learn new things, and meet new people. We transform from naive kids into knowing adults.
But then sometimes, we force nature to transform. Like in this case, a hundred-year-old tree had to morph its roots because we built a wall or two.
I took this photo in Vandalur, a national zoological park in Chennai, India.
Learns new words each day–
But when I professed my love,
She had none for me.
Inspired by an old Daily Prompt.
For once, I’m glad the weekend’s over. For two whole days, fireworks have been cracking and popping outside my window and all I could think of was what’s the point of it all?
It’s funny that people work hard all year and throw away all their bonus cash on rolled up gunpowder that could blow up a finger. It happens too, at least five times every year. And most of the time, it’s more than a finger. Sometimes even entire houses near a fireworks shop go up in flames just because some random guy lit a cigarette. Fireworks are unstable, risky, and they turn cash into ash right in front of your eyes.
As if wasting money weren’t enough, there’s the nuisance of noise and smoke. I kept jumping every now and again — and not because of the plot twist in the book I was reading. One kid’s thrill for roaring rockets and blasted bombs made the two-month-old next door wail all night which in turn kept me up all night. The noise even drowned out the environmentalists who orated ozone overtures on television. Not even an hour of silence.
But there’s another side to fireworks. A side that’s as pathetic as the aftermath that garbage collectors have to deal with.
About three months before the festival season begins, Sivakasi and the rest of fireworks-producing areas rejoices. Fireworks are their livelihood. They’d lock themselves up in a dingy room, stuffing charcoal into sulfur and sickness into children. And with every pack of fireworks they sold, the lights in their houses would burn brighter and their kids would get a better chance at primary education. The lighter our purses become, the heavier their stomachs become. These people feed on fireworks while people in white coats argue for boycotting the poisonous epidemic.
Nevertheless, fireworks aren’t military. There’s no point in pretending they are a necessary evil. We know the destruction fireworks cause, but we also know the families that hinge on them. And that’s the saddest stature of Indian society. A large portion of our people would die if the larger portion doesn’t kill the environment (in a way).
Unless we take a stand. Unless primary school textbooks refine their definition of Sivakasi being synonymous with fireworks. Unless we do more than boycotting fireworks. Unless we find alternative employment opportunities for those who survive in charcoal, we won’t rid ourselves of pointless fires.
Hello there, Kevin! Sorry, my headphones drowned you out. Good morning to you too.
Or, good afternoon more like. It’s almost 11.30. Yeah, I came in at my usual time, 8.30. Nope, it’s no big deal. You just don’t get drunk the previous night and you won’t be hungover in the morning. It’s that simple. I know, I know, you broke up with your girlfriend. Who told us? Well, you, of course. Remember, when you drunk-texted the whole team last night with your “my endless love” lyrics? I have to say, though, the boss called me up later asking me if you’d gone crazy or something.
But that’s ok. You were upset, it’s understandable. No no, you didn’t disturb us. It’s not like I had planned for a quiet dinner with a special friend or anything.
Anyway, I should get back to work, the boss would be furious if I don’t hand over that report today. Yes, catch you later.
Sigh.
Woah, Tracy you scared me! When did you come? I was just talking to Kevin about the mishap yesterday. Ah no, I wasn’t fumbling with my headphones because I saw you coming in through the corner of my eye. No, I was trying to finish a report. Need focus, you see.
Oh, your sister got engaged last night? Wonderful, thanks for the cake. Now if you’ll excuse me —
Hey Kevin. You again. What’s up? Oh, you came over for the cake, right. Er, no. I’m not getting married, Tracy’s sister is. Oh, well, I’m not thinking about marriage now. No, I’m not in a relationship either. I’d rather not talk about it, ok?
Oh, you think a little chit chat would be alright on a Monday morning? Well, if you won’t leave my place there’s not much I can do. Well, I could punch you. But you have a nice face, and I hate to bloody it. Oh, here she is. Hey Trace, Kevin likes your cake. So much so that he doesn’t want to leave.
—
Wow, that’s some deep conversation you’re having fellas. And don’t bother taking it elsewhere. I’m jobless anyway, and Kevin, I’m dying to know what happened between you and your girlfriend. Well, that report can wait, I guess. You know, Tracy’s always told me (she somehow gets through my headphones) you and your girlfriend weren’t at all a match. Notice her eyes pitying you? And then maybe notice mine too, because they’re hurling fireballs at you.
—
Ok guys, sorry to break you up. The boss just walked in gestured to me that and he wants a chat with you, Kevin. Maybe you should go, and see what he wants? Oh, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. And we’ll be right here when you get back, we want to hear more about your breakup.
Trace, I’m off to a meeting. No, not a team meeting, it’s — it’s an impromptu meeting. With a friend — from the 3rd floor — it’s personal, ok? Yeah, I’m taking my laptop too. Anyway, see you.
I’m home alone, marvelling Pirates of the Caribbean for the uncountable time. My room mates have left for their hometowns and so have my colleagues and friends.
Today is Diwali or Deepawali, a special Indian holiday. People working away from their hometowns throng home to spend the day with family. Most religions celebrate this day as the day good destroyed the evil in the world.
Yet it’s ironic that we celebrate the end of all evil by spreading more evil.
We all love spending time with our families, sharing a meal, and smiling at the kids who run around the neighbourhood fighting over candy while parents share a drink. That’s how foreigners see Diwali. It’s a day of joy and sweets and all things nice. There’s no evil in that.
So it would seem.
Diwali is the festival of lights. And the reason: We celebrate the day lighting firecrackers and scaring the crap out of our domestic animals. It’s common for people to have cows and buffalos as pets, along with dogs, cats, and fish. And while I enjoy Jack Sparrow’s adventures in my room, I hear these bigger animals wailing in fear as the fireworks go up a little too close to their feet.
As I shake my head disgusted at parents who let their kids torment animals, my phone lights up with flash news: “Fire in Gujarat’s fireworks shop, over 10 people dead.” Every year, Diwali brings a handful of fire accidents in fireworks shops. And every year people debate whether we should continue selling and manufacturing fireworks because of all the death and destruction. And yet, year after year, people light up their stash of smoky hell, laughing at lights and lolling like maniacs.
There’s more to Diwali than killing lives and scaring animals, though. Fireworks are expensive. And every household with children or light-liking adults spends about $30 in fireworks. Not to mention other expenses like buying sweets and savouries and new clothes for the entire family. These don’t come cheap. Tis the season where employers give employees a Diwali bonus, too.
On the day of Diwali, people wake up early, clean up real good, wear new clothes, have breakfast, and go outdoors to light up fireworks. An hour or two later they’d break for coffee and snacks. Then again, they go back for more fireworks. and in between the festivities, comes other traditions like visiting neighbours and friends to give away snacks, and all-day feasting in cholesterol-full foods. The whole day wanes, and we call this the single biggest festival of the year.
However, like all things Indian, there’s also a counter-culture to this Diwali madness. There are some who don’t throw money away on fireworks or shopping. They don’t spend all day indulging guilt-free on guilt foods, laugh at animals cowering in fear, or trigger heart attacks in patients in a nearby hospital.
These are the ones who see festivals as a chance reconnect with their family without tearing other families apart. We are the misfits, the tradition-less, and the unholy. We call Diwali the festival of darkness because we are the ones who care for the greater good.
