Diwali in America

I vividly remember my first diwali in the United States. Actually I am so fond of festivals, that I remember most of them. They are like a sparkle in an otherwise routine life, an occasional brush of color in an otherwise dull picture. Well, so as diwali approached, my enthusiasm soared to new heights. I promised myself to make this diwali an extra special one, no matter what!!
We had just celebrated that dussehra in our sink, with a Ravana made of the Wal-Mart flyer!! You can say that we symbolically burned an effigy of capitalistic Ravana. But what actually happened was that it was the only piece of paper I could find when we took an impromptu decision of celebrating dussehra the traditional way. So we cut a ravana-type figure from it, and burned it in our kitchen sink. Never mind the smoke alarms that followed.
So, just as diwali approached, plans started to pour in. A potluck, a party, even a picnic the preceding weekend. The dress code for the party was of course ethnic, and it was a beauty to see everybody so dressed up, making the most of the limited opportunities to celebrate diwali. Our friends tried calling up the authorities to find if they can fire a few crackers somewhere. Not in the capital city of Milwaukee? may be the lesser known waukesha? may be the outskirts of west allis? Well, the answer was predictably no. But it's okay, I said to myself. Diwali is so much more than fireworks!!
So, Finally the auspicious day of Deepawali came. We traditionally paint the goddess laxmi and other gods on the walls of our home in diwali for pooja. So, I got a chart paper and a few crayons(from the same Wal-Mart), and affixed it to the wall after the painting had been done. Havan was of course, not a possibility after the dussehra alarm episode. Our house was as clean as can be and we had small candles all around our patio. We were celebrating Diwali- American ishtyle.
After the pooja had been done, my spirits sank to a new low I didn't know I had. It was all so depressing- a nuclear family of two, seeing TV on the night of diwali. It just didn't fit in with the idea of a festival. Festival is a way of extending your family to the society; it is celebrated in the open, with a open door and an open heart! (Open was no way possible though, in the sub-zero temperatures of Wisconsin!) My husband tried to cheer me up, but perhaps he was nostalgic too.
Suddenly there was a forceful knock on our door! All our neighbors are Americans, so it can't be they , especially at 9:30pm. As is turned out, it was another Indian family, a distant friend. They had come over to wish us a happy diwali, and had a lovely blue candle for me, and a box of jalebees of my husband!! They left almost as fast as they had come: "lots of families to visit", they said. It brought tears of happiness in my eyes. Such acts of random kindness and thoughtfulness make the life worth living and festivals worth celebrating. A few moments later, I had our car keys in my hands. "Get up Mr. lazy", I said to my hubby, "we are going to make everybody else's diwali too". He was reluctant- going out now meant postponing eating jalebees.