Mother, give me money for crackers; this year all of us in the society are pooling money for a grand Deepavali celebration.

No Harsh, this year, we shall not burst crackers; we shall celebrate with diyas and candles only.”

What are you talking mother? No cracker! I would be a laughing stock in the society; candles and diyas are for girls, mother. Don’t do this to me!

Harsh protested in selfrighteous anger,

Mother, such an important Hindu festival, that comes once in a year. You cannot go against our custom and culture?”

Tell your friends to talk to your Hindu mother, that is me. How can you play with crackers, when the very next day you suffer from breathing problem? Who has to take you to emergency? Its me, not your friends. No cracker, Harsh.”

Mala said firmly, as she protected the flame of diva between her palms.

I never understand a custom like bursting crackers? Such a collosal waste of money, not to mention noise and air pollution. Every year buying cracker makes a dent in my budget; add to that doctor’s fee and cost of medicine. Not to forget time for hospital visit. Why not burn money, instead. At least that will spare people from noise and air pollution!”

thought Mala, as placed her diya on the ground in front of her mat. She has started this practice of evening prayer and meditation for some time now. This time alone brought some peace and perspective in Mala’s daily life. Family and friends believe Mala has taken to spirituality and religion.

What Mala did not tell anyone was she could see could see future in the flame; she has seen Harsh engulfed in flames!

Word Count: 283

This post is written as part of# TellTaleThursday with Anshu & Priya . More articles on the post may be found here.

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