An evening walk in my otherwise pristine neighborhood park revealed the sordid side of the festival of lights. Remnants of burnt firecrackers reminded one of the last few days, wherein children and adults alike chose to add their bit to the Delhi smog – with firecrackers of every imaginable type.
While the skies glowed with the colorful pyrotechnics on display, people vied with each other to out surpass one another’s firecrackers – be it in terms of loudness, duration of their blaze, or the attached price tag. Things were no less different in smaller towns and cities, where loud cheering and whistles led on the herd-minded ones who insisted on perpetuating the have-money-will-burst-the-loudest-of-‘em-all-firecrackers syndrome.
Back in my hometown too, a bunch of kids made an impromptu visit to my place at night, to exchange greetings. Almost sleepy me sat with them for a few minutes, and then noticing that the clock read almost half-past ten, bade them good night, much to their utter amusement. They maintained that they would burst their “share” only after 11 pm, when people would be drifting away to slumberland. That made me sit up and notice their eager faces, and take-in their visible enthusiasm at the “thrill” of waking up the sleeping.
One tot, barely 10 years old, stammered excitedly about how his Daddy dearest had ensured that he had the longest string of crackers which he would burst after everyone else was through with their quota. Gave a whole new meaning to competition in its rawest form. Wonder what today’s parents say. Or probably today’s kids are too used to getting their own way, aided no doubt by some well-rehearsed tantrums, tears, and emotional blackmail – not in that order though.
So while a few brought on the sparklers with a flourish, the rest wheezed, gasped, coughed, and spluttered with tears in their eyes.
And cleaned the remnants the day after…sleepily.
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