O Bhaiyas, where art thou?

Diwali often makes NRIs nostalgic. In my case, it depresses me. I start missing the festivities in India and no matter how clean my house is, how beautiful the rangoli around the house is, how nice my new clothes are, how tasty the kheer I make is, how ethnic the hand-painted diyas at my doorstep are, how pretty the henna on my hands is, I miss certain things very very much. I basically miss the festive spirit in the air, which, in spite of the public holiday, I don’t feel here.

Even though I have been scared of loud firecrackers when I was young, I miss the smell of the barood in the air. Even though I have always hated sweets, I miss the exchange of mithais that happened between neighbours. Even though I hate crowds, I miss the crowded lane just before the ‘gali ka ladi bum’ was lighted.

And I miss the Bhaiyas.

The Bhaiyas were a rare specimen that knocked on your door every year a few days before Diwali. They were like Halloween kids, except that they were seventeen and to my six-year-old self, very very tall, and very very cool. They were also known to all grown-ups in our neighbourhood as ‘the good-for-nothing ruffians who had never given darshan at the college gates’.

***

Flashback 1986

The doorbell rings. Mom asks me to open the door.

I look through the peephole. It's the Bhaiyas of the neighbourhood. I like them. They let me fly their kites, ride their bikes, spin their tops and field during gully cricket.

I open the door.

Bhaiya 1 - Is your Mom in?

Me - Yes. And Dad is in too.

Bhaiya2 - Oh shit!

Bhaiya3 - Okay, can you call your Dad?

Me - Dad, Bhaiya log are here!

Dad comes to the door.

B1 - Namaste, Uncle.

Dad (suspiciously) - Haan namaste namaste... what is it?

B1 - Happy Diwali, Uncle!

Dad (glares) - Diwali is next week.

B2 - Yes yes. But we have to prepare beforehand, isn't it?

Dad - Prepare for?

B1 – The celebrations, uncle!

Dad - Just exactly why are you here?

B3 - Uncle, 50 rupees...

Dad - 50 rupees?? Why?

B1 - Uncle... chanda...

Dad - Chanda??

B2 - Diwali donation, uncle!

Dad - Diwali donation?? For??

B2 (nervously) - Uncle, everyone is giving...

Dad - But why??

B3 - Uncle, ladi bum!
(I'm sorry, but there's just no other way to spell it if I want to do justice to the way they pronounced it!)

Dad - Ladi bum? What's that??

B1 (grins with delight) – Uncle, it's a firecracker. For the whole neighbourhood!

Dad - For the whole neighbourhood??

B2 - Yes, uncle! We are going to buy the 1000-rupees wala ladi bum and line it from one end of our lane to the other.

Dad (dirty look) - Huh?

B3 - And then we will light it at 10 pm. It's for everyone who lives in this lane... You can come out and watch.

Dad - Watch? Watch what? Watch you people set fire to a 1000-rupee note?

B2 (murmurs) - Ufff... Yeh banker log...

B1 - Uncle, please?

Dad continues to look at them sternly.

B2 (tries to look beyond Dad's shoulder) - Aunty, please? Samjhaiye na Uncle ko...

Mom looks at Dad helplessly.

Dad - I will give you 20 rupees. That's it.

B1 - What will we do with 20 rupees, Uncle? If everyone started giving only 20 rupees, the ladi bum won't even reach the end of the lane!

Dad (glares again) - It will reach all right. Just don't subtract your alochol money from it.

B3 - Alcohol? Uncle, what are you saying?? Alcohol and us??

Dad - I know your ways. You will use 50% of the money for your ladi-wadi bum, and I know where the rest will go.

B1, B2 and B3 look at one another in mock-horror, and then silent resignation.

B2 - But Uncle...

Dad - 20 rupees. Take it or leave it.

B1 - Okay fine, Uncle...

Dad hands 20 rupees over.

B2 - Thank you, Uncle!

B3 - Happy Diwali, Uncle, Aunty!

Dad – Theek hai, theek hai, bye.

B1 (to me) - Bye! 10 pm, okay?

Me (delighted to have been spoken to) - Bye, Bhaiya log!

"Good-for-nothing gundas..." Dad mumbles, shakes his head in disapproval and goes back to reading the paper.

***

Sometimes I wonder where all the Bhaiyas are now. I imagine some of them as pot-bellied uncles probably, trying to sweat it out in the family business. Maybe some of them really made it big. Maybe they are all are married by now, bogged down by office and family responsibilities and stolen of their infamous gunda-image. But to those who still have that spark and remember the Diwali-chanda days two decades ago, I want to extend my appreciation.

You guys were an integral part of the years I had spent in India, and my Diwali-nostalgia will always always include you.

.