Yes

The scent of marigolds, the soft glow of diyas, the tantalizing aroma of freshly fried snacks – just the mention of Diwali conjures a kaleidoscope of vibrant images and cherished memories. But as the calendar inches closer to the festival of lights, a familiar pang of longing tugs at my heart. Dear Diwali, please, don't come without my family. My mind drifts back to Diwalis past, bursting with the joyful chaos of extended family gatherings. The house would be a whirlwind of activity – cousins running around with sparklers, aunts and uncles engaged in animated conversations, and the comforting presence of my in-laws filling every corner. Those were the Diwalis etched in my memory, the ones that truly felt complete. Strangely enough, reminiscing about the *most* memorable Diwali also brought to the forefront the stark contrast of last year. For the first time since our marriage, the four of us – my husband, our children, and myself – celebrated Diwali at our own home, away from the familiar warmth of my in-laws in Faridabad. Living amidst neighbors and friends we see daily, people with whom we share laughter and time, one might assume the festive spirit would easily permeate our home. Yet, as the day unfolded, a quiet solitude settled upon us. The usual bustle of Diwali felt muted, the joyous echoes replaced by a subtle sense of absence. It was the first time we truly felt the weight of being alone during a festival that, for us, has always been synonymous with togetherness. We lit the diyas, of course, their gentle flames casting a warm glow in our living room. We exchanged gifts and savored the homemade sweets. Our children, bless their innocent hearts, tried their best to infuse the day with their usual energy and excitement. But amidst the familiar rituals, there was an undeniable void. The boisterous laughter of cousins was missing, the comforting presence of elders was absent, and the collective joy of a large family celebrating together felt like a distant dream. It wasn't that the day was devoid of happiness; it simply lacked the depth and resonance that comes from shared moments with loved ones. It made me realize just how deeply intertwined our Diwali celebrations are with the presence of family. It's not just about the rituals or the festivities; it's about the shared joy, the collective blessings, and the feeling of belonging that only family can truly provide. So, dear Diwali, as you approach once again, my wish is simple. Let your light illuminate the path that brings our families together. Let the sounds of laughter and joyous chatter fill our homes. Let the warmth of togetherness be the true essence of your celebration. For Diwali, in its truest form, is not just a festival of lights, but a festival of love and family. And this year, I hope you don't arrive without them.