On not freaking out

Yesterday's newspaper was filled with stories illustrating the many interesting facets of the Diwali experience. I suppose there are some consequences when you play with fire. Bombs that is, or fireworks, rather. Diwali is this mix of New Mexico luminarias, Fourth of July fireworks, and good old-fashioned Halloween evil spirit shunning. There are candles lining the houses and super-dangerous home-lit fireworks all in a big effort to scare away bad spirits. I'm not sure what the piles of doo-doo adorned with flowers were contributing, but contribute they did.






















We had already heard the dawning of WWIII, which turned out to be the lighting of bombs all over Gokulum. But the real party was going down a couple nights later. My roommate came home with an armful of really sketchy bombs and we all headed outside to see things blowing up. All up and down the streets were entire families standing around and applauding the explosion that resulted from the little boy presently running from a lit fuse. We were all shocked by how many misfired and how super dangerous these easily acquired devices were. My friend laughed over how we'd see these tiny kids running away from fuses while Grandma clapped in the background. This was when my roommate moved to go inside to get more explosives. We all looked at the space between him and the front door, one foot on the stoop and knew--we were locked out.

None of us had our keys. All the windows have bars to keep everyone out including us. (Maybe they thought up this extreme measure during Diwali?) So we had a chai and waited for a Diwali miracle. I took the last of our money--the 100rs in my pocket--and put it in Amy's hand, "take this please and buy the most delicious sweets you can find". She hopped gallantly onto the back of Rick's bike and headed off into the night for a locksmith and chocolates...or cookies...or whatever delicious sweet she could find. And we waited.

We got in eventually.






















This morning as I head into Tina's to pay for my breakfast (fruit salad, egg dosa with chutney and spinach, coffee) I hear dismayed laughing. The sound is coming from the bathroom where my friend is circling the Indian toilet. What are you doing? I ask. I dropped my keys! She says. I am in stitches with laughter. We both are. In this bathroom everything slopes in toward the hole in the back of that blue hole in the floor like an art student study of perspective. Everything is angled in toward that point on the horizon in the middle of the page.

She got them out eventually.



















The paper had stories on how the rise of eye injuries treated at the hospitals had increased. A puppy died from shock from the sound. Etc.

But I think most people had a pretty good time.