A Light in the Sky

You know how they say every Diwali is the same? The same lights, the same sweets, the same rituals year after year? Well, this Diwali turned out quite different for Riya. Riya loved the festival, always had. The busy streets of Jaipur were a riot of color, the air filled with laughter mixed with the sweet scent of gulab jamun. Every year, she would fly back from wherever she was to be home just in time for the festivities. Everything would be perfectly warm and altogether loud, just how she liked it. But this year had a touch of rebellion. It all started because of London... and Mark. Months before, Riya had gone on a work trip to London. What began as a strictly business affair quickly turned into a whirlwind emotional adventure, thrilling yet uncomplicated. Mark had been a highlight with his piercing blue eyes and the fiery jokes he cracked that made her laugh like nobody else. Except she never actually meant to fall for him. Love, especially with a foreigner, was just too... well, not something her parents would celebrate just as easily as Diwali. Throw in the long-distance factor and it was a mess waiting to happen. Despite life tugging her back, sending Riya ten thousand kilometers away, they had stayed in touch. Calls turned into hits of nostalgia and the distance, somehow, shrunk each time she heard his voice. Back home, as she unpacked her bags in her childhood bedroom, she managed to push thoughts of Mark into a neat little corner of her mind. This week was about family, about being wrapped in the familiar, about being who her family expected her to be — not this interactive globe-trotter she had become. That notion, however, barely lasted until the third light bulb she placed on the balcony. Because, standing opposite her balcony, grinning like a Cheshire cat, was Mark. “Riya!” he yelled, breaking the evening calm like a bugle blast. Riya dropped her bulbs, hands flying to her mouth. “How?” she half-whispered, half-gasped, half-giggled. But she knew how. Their talk of trying ‘a long distance’ over rum and cola had leapt from talk into action. The week unfolded from there like a dance of twists and socials. Mark slipped in seamlessly into the family space, surprising her with not just words but actions — kite flying at dawn, he loved it; Diwali diyas, he painted one; matriarch greeting, he was a natural. Of course, Riya was mortified the entire time, intrigued yet anxious about what this meant — their lives, tangled? Could this even be real? But Riya's Dad seemed to take to Mark more than she imagined. The two laughed like old pals until they disappeared into the den to watch cricket! A few evenings and endless conversations later, the festival climax hit – glittering basins and devas lifted high in the black velvet sky. The noise, still ringing in Riya's ears as her family trickled back in to the living area, was more the sensation of realization she couldn’t deny any longer. There it was — the curve that life seemed to take her on, this wrap of emotions that took tighter hold. Mark, standing by her side, touched her arm. For a moment, amidst this celebration of light, Riya felt another kind of illumination. Her thoughts tumbled free while all around glistened. In honesty rare even for a loquacious person like herself, she turned to Mark. "I can't believe you're here. I can't believe how ... right you fit in." "I only wanted to see that light the way you described it," he said with such sincerity that her heart skipped all the obvious beats. With fireworks reflecting across their faces, the conversation seemed far from over. In fact, it was just beginning — one they'd probably narrate years down the line if all went well. That night, Riya realized why Diwali felt the way it did, every year. Her traditions were threads, yes, but to weaving new patterns into the tapestry had its own magic. And this time was different.