Diwali is here. The time of year when I go into hiding. Terrified. Mortified. Petrified. Scared silly.
Yep, while all are celebrating, I spend my time in bed, hehe...rather, under it.

With earplugs, nice yellow ones that I received as a gift from a kindly soul who understands my suffering.

Before getting those, I used to stuff my ears with cotton-wool. But this one is fantastic. The ones you get on flights.

I can walk through the valley of light and not fear a sound. Nor hear a thing.

That is, if I want to.

But I would rather stay put at home and read a few books. Maybe write. Blog.

This fear goes back a long way.

During my childhood days, the elders in my family decided to conquer my fear. Every year, during the festival, people from our village temple used to come home. With an elephant.

And the scheme was to make me walk under it. Somehow, due to my good fortune, I overheard the plan and immediately went into hiding. Disappeared. Declared missing.

The elephant came. The elephant went. Little poet missing.

Then there was a frantic search all over. All were shouting my name and running around. While I was blissfully lying beneath the bed, hidden behind a trunk... a book in my hand.

I came out once it was safe for me to. And then they gave me a ring with the hair taken from that elephants tail. Supposed to ward off fear. Well, it didn't work!

Luckily for me, over the years,  more and more people have become aware of the child labour in the cracker industry, and in protest, some have stopped buying them. I celebrated.

Some school children are out there trying to educate elders on the pollution caused by them. I appreciate that.

And there is a visible trend toward a more light, less noise kind of Diwali celebration.

And some day, the will be no noise, only light.

And on that day, I will have my Diwali.














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