It’s Diwali, and I’m currently sitting somewhere between a sugar rush and an existential crisis.
The house smells like incense sticks and fried snacks, my outfits have already survived two rounds of sitting carefully, the third round is on its way, and my diet plan didn’t even make it to yesterday’s breakfast.
Every year, I tell myself I’ll be more mindful. One laddoo, one kaju katli, one chakli, one samosa, and then some restraint. But somehow, every Diwali turns more and more into a social experiment, always testing for one simple hypothesis:
how much can one human eat under the polite pressure of “aree bas ek aur le lo”?
And of course, there’s that tiny ache of guilt — not just from the sweets, but from time passing by too soon.
Family time feels shorter every year. Between decorations, travelling between homes, and “Happy Diwali!” texts, I keep realizing how rarely I actually sit with my people. Just sit. No reels, no photos. Just sit.
It’s weird. Because the festival of lights is supposed to feel radiant and grounding, and I’m out here juggling snack plates and trying to remember whether I managed to get enough mitti-ke-diyas for the Di-day. I want to pause and soak in the glow of this festival, but Diwali has this funny way of passing before you can even catch your breath.
Still, in between all the half-finished conversations, the sugar crashes, and random bursts of soothing laughter; there’s something golden about today.
Maybe that’s the real light everyone keeps talking about.
Not the perfect ethnic party evening or the spotlessly clean homes, but: the half-burnt diya, a chaotic kitchen, the people you love floating in and out of rooms, and the moment you finally stop thinking about how fast it’s all going.
Maybe that’s why Diwali always leaves me a little pensive. It’s not the overindulgence. It’s the reminder of what we’re all chasing: time that feels full. Even when it’s imperfect.
So tonight, I’m letting go of all my guilt.
The sweets can stay.
The noise can stay.
Because Diwali, as every year, will fade away too soon. But I’m hoping that the joy would linger around a little while longer.
