Aint no Diwali without Patti.
Religiously, year after year, ever since I started blogging, I have a bitter sweet post on how I celebrate Diwali in a home away from home. Of the two shaded emotion that has joy with a twist of nostalgia. This year is different.
There aint no Diwali this time around. No diyas, no kolams. Not even a solitary tea light for a passing Lakshmi making her way on earth. Yes, the Gods may make note that this. Its my Diwali Bandh. For there aint no diwali without patti.
There is no meaning to faith without the one who taught me to believe. There is no sound to laughter without the one who wiped my every tear. There is no colour to joy without the one who rejoiced with me.
There aint no Diwali this time around. Coz it aint no Diwali without patti.
There is no sweetness in laddoos that are not made by patti. There is no fragrance to roses that grow anywhere else other than her garden. There is no cheer to any place other than her playground. There is no comfort other than lying with my head in her lap. There is no Neverland no more.
There aint no Diwali this time around. Coz it aint no Diwali without patti.
There aint no Diwali this time around. No diyas, no kolams. Not even a solitary tea light for a passing Lakshmi making her way on earth. Yes, the Gods may make note that this. Its my Diwali Bandh. For there aint no diwali without patti.
There is no meaning to faith without the one who taught me to believe. There is no sound to laughter without the one who wiped my every tear. There is no colour to joy without the one who rejoiced with me.
There aint no Diwali this time around. Coz it aint no Diwali without patti.
There is no sweetness in laddoos that are not made by patti. There is no fragrance to roses that grow anywhere else other than her garden. There is no cheer to any place other than her playground. There is no comfort other than lying with my head in her lap. There is no Neverland no more.
There aint no Diwali this time around. Coz it aint no Diwali without patti.