Arya stood barefoot on her tiny balcony, scrolling through her never-ending list of tasks. She could hear the distant chaos of Diwali celebrations, the fireworks bursting with a vigor that matched her inner restlessness. There was a dull thumping in her head that the continuous stream of WhatsApp notifications was doing little to abate. Her phone chimed again.
"Arya, WHERE are the rangoli powders?"
A sigh escaped her lips. Must be Dev, she thought. The hyper-organized Mr. Dev Kapoor was the epitome of responsibility — everything that Arya wasn't.
It was jointly agreed at last year's committee gathering that they needed to spice things up, pump some color and creativity into the community's annual Diwali event. Arya, rather impulsively, had pitched the idea of an art corner, complete with rangoli sessions and lantern painting, and the committee had loved it.
But now, with Dev texting incessantly about misplaced supplies and missing volunteers, Arya felt hours of regret for every moment she'd spent crafting her original proposal.
"Check you nudged the neighbour to lend us the rangoli stencils. Pls," read her response.
By the afternoon, Arya, juggling a tray of colorful powders, was standing on the neighborhood stage situated in the community center. Dev, clipboard in hand, was pivoting his hawk-like gaze between Arya and the checklist.
"You know, precision is an art too," he remarked, noting Arya's attempt at a geometrically confused rangoli.
Her eyes rolled, "Oh please, Dev. Art and precision play in opposite leagues!"
As the evening ushered in, candles were lit, the collective hustle grew vibrant, and amidst crescendos of laughter and music, Arya's mood lifted. She absorbed the scenes like dabs of paint, capturing candids with her mental brush.
In the commotion, she didn't notice what had driven Dev to climb halfway onto the activity stage.
"Careful!" his shout rang over the assembly, startling everyone. Arya jerked, spilling the rangoli powder, narrowly missing her own dress. Dev's arms managed to steady her just in time.
In the flurry of loose naan and spilt powdered colors, she burst into unrestrained laughter. Dev joined, their previous petty exchanges forgotten amidst shared relief.
Unbeknownst to Arya, she had left her phone on the rangoli tray, and as it felt the icy touch of the spilled water, it stuttered and eventually booted to its techy demise.
"Well, it sure won't be buzzing like that for a while," Dev chuckled, gently handing it to Arya.
With nothing dictating her time, Arya embraced the unexpected pause. So, when Dev awkwardly invited her to visit the festival stalls, she found herself agreeing, arming herself with nothing but curiosity.
Among the glowing lamps, Arya stuffed herself with jalebi and manjul sweets, relishing every distracted, sugary bite. Yet, in this serendipitous detour from control, Dev revealed himself. He gleefully narrated school shenanigans, engineering college follies, and the story of how he once dressed as Gandalf for a Lord of the Rings marathon.
"Is that a picture of a white-bearded wizard I see here?"
"Oh no. You cannot unsee that," Dev grinned.
Amidst trading old tales and millennia-old recipes of chaos in chem classes, unnoticed by either, came a storm followed by the clouds of contemplation.
In the still wake of laughter, Arya admitted, "I wasn't thinking, at first. I only thought about how cool it'd be to see all this color. How it could mean more to my art to have people engage without formalities."
Dev shrugged, "Not a bad insight really. It's not always about planning. Sometimes you run ragged only to figure things out along the way."
Their eyes met, gummy-candy infused incrementally finding its way to what she could do — or what 'they' could do together. They were opposites who had decided they were not at odds.
On the makeshift seats of the Ferris wheel with the Diwali lights painting them in shades of pink and gold, Arya smiled. It dawned on her: This was what Diwali meant.
It wasn't just diyas casting warm glows or the shared roli on siblings' foreheads. It was unwinding the day-to-day, meeting a little bravery head-on, and embracing fresh colors, accidental patterns, and discovering someone who makes even the spent sparklers glow anew. It was about newfound truths intertwining flames from the past.