Chirag's Festival of Light

"Chirag! Chirag, don't forget to check Grandma's diya collection," his mother called out as they prepared for Diwali. "Okay, Maa, I'm on it," Chirag replied, though he was lost in his colorful rangoli pattern sketch. This Diwali felt particularly special for Chirag. At ten years old, he finally got the responsibility of helping out with the decorations. And there was something fascinating about those old, dusty lamps in Grandma's collection. A few sketched colors later, Chirag hurried to the storeroom. There they sat, a row of impressive copper and brass lamps, shined and polished by his grandmother's diligent hands. "What's so special that they're only out once a year?" He mumbled to himself, picking up a particularly large antique one with engravings. As curiosity gripped him, Chirag unscrewed the top with delicate fingers. The moment it opened, a tiny spark flew out and danced around the room, blossoming into a small fiery figure. "Hey! Finally free!" Chirag sprang backwards, almost toppling over the stack of old newspapers. "Who...who are you?" "I'm Jinoo, the flame spirit," the flame waved a tiny ember-shaped hand cheerfully. "Fluttering lights!" Chirag cried. "Did the lamp trap you?" "Oh, no-no! I was...taking a nap, let's say, for quite a few Diwalis," Jinoo said with an impish latern-like glow. Jinoo wasn’t alone for long. With a mischievous glint in his ember eyes, the spirit flitted around, weaving magic through every lamp, candlestick, and strand of fairy lights in the house, causing erratic flickering and playful glows. Chirag laughed, even when the lightbulbs danced in sync to a tune that only Jinoo could hear. The fun couldn't last without a dose of wisdom, though, as Grandma entered, quite bewildered. "Who unleashed the flame spirit?" she demanded, her eyebrows arching above her amused, albeit tired, eyes. Chirag gulped, readying an apology, but Grandma chuckled. "Relax, sweetie. Jinoo here used to live around these parts, a very naughty flame spirit back in my youth." "Hello, Granny," Jinoo grinned mischievously. "Don't cause too much chaos now, little ember," she winked. "We've a festival to celebrate." Night fell over their home, awash with warm yellows and vibrant reds cast by Jinoo's electrified mischief. The scent of incense mingled with the laughter of family, flowing through open windows, attracting neighbors who'd come for blessings and sweets. Beneath it all, Chirag noticed something different in Jinoo's pranks—a lesson learned amid twinkling lights and listening in on family tales. Jinoo began to sprinkle more than sparks, sharing whispers of laughter, fun, and caring. By midnight, both the family and home's outer canvas twinkled, showcasing happiness and joy. And there, on the veranda steps, sat Chirag, reminiscing. A familiar ember took shape beside him. "Thank you for showing me, Chirag," Jinoo said gently. "You're welcome," Chirag replied, understanding the true Diwali spirit wasn't all games or pranks but the charm of bringing happiness to those around you. Just as quickly as he came, Jinoo evaporated into a dancing glow, absorbed into an oil lamp placed carefully on the porch. As sleep coaxed Chirag to bed, he knew Jinoo hadn’t left for good. He was just nestled away, awaiting the magic of next Diwali to light life's corners once again.