The winter chill begins to creep in,
its there in the early morning mist,
and in the breeze which gives you pleasant goosebumps.
Bit by bit,
street by street,
the lights go up.
blue and green.
They twinkle from far away,
and make you smile to yourself,
for no particular reason.
Crackers burst with enthusiastic children encircling them.
Roasted nuts and silver-foiled delicacies.
Sounds of bells tolling.
Emotions of warm bonhomie wash over the darkness.
My father stringing the electric lights
over our balconies,
and us making pretty rangolis of flowers and diyas,
will forever be my fondest memories of,
this festival of lights.
The myriad colored lights,
will come out every year,
as a gentle and lingering reminder,
that no matter how bleak the past and today,
there will always be hope another day.