With teary eyes, I looked up at the dark sky,
With a weaker gait, yet my head held high.
Through my blurry sight, I saw a fiery night,
Sparkled by fire shows and glimmering light.

The air hung thick, the atmosphere dark and foggy,
Filled with soot and ashes, grey, black, and smoggy.
The wind carried a chill, with moisture enough—
It felt like a wet kiss on my cheeks, a gentle touch.

I closed my eyes, letting emotions slide down my face,
As a fresh shower of drizzle blessed me with grace.
My otherwise saddened lips broadened with a smile—
This brief outing into the festive night felt worthwhile.

The loud burst of firecrackers boomed all around,
Yet I could only heard hymns in your familiar sound.
I remember, as a child, I’d revel in festivity,
So excited, I’d feel like a celebrity.

But wasn’t it because you made the day so grand?
You’d say, “Customs matter—they help us understand.”
As a grown-up, I strayed away from rituals and traditions,
But now, carrying your legacy has become my mission.

And I’m grateful for the values you instilled in me—
Your presence lives on in these lonely festivities.

A tale of a particular Diwali night, dedicated to my Mommy, my everything!!