Wishing you light & home.

The house begins to glow before the sun is properly gone. Someone is frying something in the kitchen. Someone else is untangling a string of fairy lights that worked perfectly well last year.

Marigolds arrive in plastic bags and end up looking like treasure. A rangoli appears by the door, one careful handful of colour at a time. Nobody agrees on where the diyas should go.

Diwali has always felt like this to me — not one grand moment, but a hundred small ones happening at once. A match being struck. A familiar song. A plate being passed. The particular warmth of a room full of people who showed up.

Then, for a little while, the sky takes over.

And a few days later, in Manipur, another kind of light arrives — quieter, older, and seated around a table. This page is for both of them.