Festive and light

Today is Deepavali, the festival of lights. No one I know seems to know which day it is to be celebrated, and it was only after much debate that we decided that it was last night and this morning. We Tambrams have our own schedules and are rather fanatic about keeping to them. When Mum was alive, there was more religion and ritual involved. Now that she is gone and I have been annointed keeper of the traditional flame, more or less, I adapt and evolve ritual to suit my requirements and abilities - isn't that how life changes in any family? But there are concepts that have been part of my growing up that I cannot change. Like new clothes and sweets. Like waking up before dawn cracks to do the Ganga snaanam, the holy bath. Like putting out lamps all over the house to show good luck and auspiciousness the way in.

Ganga snaanam is the ritual bathing that has to be done before the sun rises, because that is when the waters of the holy river flow through every pipe in the land, whichever land it may be. now if you think about it, that defies all logic, but so does most of this kind of tradition. It works for me because it is something I was always told and then teased about, since most of the time none of us were even remotely awake before the sun shone into our windows. But for the last many years, I have always managed to be awake if not completely aware or remotely intelligent at that time before dawn had any chance of cracking. So I have wandered into my parents' room, gently patting their heads with wet fingers before sneaking back to bed. The rite is done, my traditional sensibilities appeased, my beauty sleep complete.

This year, I had my alarm clock raring to go at 3 am in the morning. It squeaked plaintively at me from the carpet near my bed and demanded more than its fair share of attention. And since Small Cat always gets her way, I got up, cuddled the warm, purring bundle and put her on the kitchen window where she wanted to be. I stuck my hand under the kitchen tap, patted the little furball on the head with damp fingers, tiptoed into Father's room and touched his head with a drop of water and quietly tiptoed out again to go back to sleep. But alarm clocks do not always do what is expected of them. At 5:30 am the alarm went again, from the same place, and the process had to be repeated. Down to the wet fingers and everyone getting rather damp in the noggin. Of course, we are awake now and will continue to be until later tonight, but the alarm is fast asleep in a warm little ball in a large plastic bag in the middle of the living room carpet. Her Deepavali started early and will not be too far different from any other day that she has - sleep-eat-play is how she spends her time.

I am not sure Deepavali has much meaning for Small Cat, except that she gets to explore lots of new things - lamps in every room, vivid rangoli in front of the neighbour's door, pretty Ikea lights along the window sill and the smell of new clothes that have, so far, escaped her little pink nose and the fur that she sheds to mark them as hers. Ours, really, but since we belong to her, so do our clothes. And with a sharp bite and a jingle of the bell on her collar, she wishes us all a very happy Deepavali!