This Diwali, joy comes with a little ache

Diwali has always been my favourite festival. Not just for the lights, sweets or getting dressed up, but because, for me, it has always meant going home.

There is a saying, “Home is where the heart is”, and I think that is what makes Diwali so special to me. No matter how busy life gets or how far we are from one another, this is the one time I look forward when I can be with the people who make a place feel like home.

Every year, I take a long leave from work in Chandigarh to be with my parents in Pathankot. Buying gifts, cleaning the house, planning the decor and making rangolis are all part of the excitement. I still make them, these days with flowers. I love the build-up as much as the festival itself.

But when families live across cities and countries, being together cannot always be taken for granted.

My brother, who lives in Canada with my “bhabhi” and their twins, a boy and a girl, returned to India after almost four years. The twins arrived for their first visit. They will turn two next month and I was finally meeting them in person for the first time since the day they were born.

For nearly two years, I have been their “bua” from a distance. I have watched them grow through photographs and video calls, followed their milestones and celebrated every new word, expression and little achievement from thousands of miles away.

I still vividly remember the first time they called me “bua”. It was such a small word, perhaps just another new word for them, but for me, it meant the world. I also remember the day my brother told me they were coming to India for Diwali. I cried. After all those months of seeing them through a screen, the thought of finally having them around, being able to hold them and make memories together, was overwhelming.

There is a peculiar ache in loving children so deeply without ever having held them. You recognise their faces and voices, yet know how much of their little lives you have missed. And then, suddenly, they are here. You hold them a little longer, take in every detail and wish the moment would last.

We are celebrating at my parents’ home in Pathankot, the twins’ paternal grandparents’ home. It takes me back to the Diwalis my brother and I spent here as children. I remember bursting crackers together on the terrace, the delicious food and sweets, wearing new clothes without fail and doing “path” in the “Babaji” room at home. These were the little things that made Diwali ours.

I hope the twins take away their own memories from this visit, their first Diwali in India, the lights, the food and the warmth of a home that is theirs, too. I want them to experience the traditions that shaped our childhood.

In 2024, I celebrated Diwali with my chachu, chachi and cousins while my parents were in Canada. I was not alone, but it felt different. Festivals do have a way of reminding you of the people whose presence makes a place feel like home.

Yet, this year has brought a sadness we are still learning to live with.

This year, my “naani”, with whom I shared a very close bond, passed away suddenly on October 26, just a day after my brother, “bhabhi” and the children arrived. I wish she were here to see the children and celebrate with us. I know she would have wanted us to find joy in being together, but I cannot help wishing she could have been part of it herself.

So, the celebrations will be quieter. We will still light diyas, wear new clothes, make the floral rangoli, do our “paath” and spend time together. We do not know when the children will visit again or when the family will next be under one roof.

Maybe that is what festivals mean when loved ones live far away. You learn to treasure the visits, the familiar rituals and even the ordinary moments you once took for granted.

This Diwali, I am missing someone deeply while being grateful for everyone who is here. I wish the circumstances were different, but I know how precious this time together is.

For me, Diwali has always been about family. This year, more than ever, it is about holding close the people who have made it home and making memories that will last until we meet again.