Sparks of Serendipity

"Jaya, it's high time you come home," her mother had said over the phone a month ago. The insistence wasn’t a bad thing, Jaya thought, but the timing left her juggling deadlines and travel plans. Now, back home in Jaipur, the nostalgia engulfed her like thick, sweet-smelling bandhni. The alleys she once ran through as a child seemed smaller, cozier. As always, Diwali fever held sway over the city. From the rooftops, it looked as if every home was aflame in exuberant defiance of the impending winter. "Why is my baby still hiding away? Come help hang some strings of lights!" Her mom’s voice resonated louder than ever, echoed by bursts of laughter from visiting relatives. Obliged, Jaya left her old room and joined assorted aunties and cousins on the terrace where her father was orchestrating the decorations like some benevolent general leading a parade. Halfway through unwinding a knotted string of fairy lights, a playful chuckle caught her attention. Aman. He stood on the opposite roof, observing the chaos with a mischievous grin, like a cat eyeing canaries. "Still losing battles with decoration?" he poked fun. "And you still watching from the sidelines, Aman?" Jaya fired back, feeling the warmth in his teasing presence. They met up later that evening, after their families had exchanged the customary 'happy Diwalis’. Aman was a fellow escape artist, nice enough to rescue her from the pandemonium of more guests and nonstop chatter of her extended family. Strolling through a park illuminated by giant paper lanterns, they reminisced about their childhood escapades, the legend of a haunted house nearby, their once-shared dream of conquering the world one street at a time. "I had no idea my world conqueror friend was now an expert in software solutions," he said while picking stray marigold petals off his shirt. "I had no idea my mischievous accomplice was now an advocate for the oppressed," Jaya retorted, charmed by his pursuit of justice. It was easy to share with Aman. He listened, with that attentive gaze of his underlined by dimples that never changed. She became confident that she could say things she hadn’t expressed to anyone else. As fireworks gilded the sky, they admitted to missed opportunities and roads not taken. The whispers of change were in the air amidst the sparklers and Diwali prayers. In this festival of new beginnings, Jaya found herself yearning for more than just whispered what-ifs. The next day, both families gathered to witness 'Age-Old Diwali Traditions 101,' which included rituals whose origins were as foggy as the old Haveli staircase. Both were eager when Jaya decided to include Aman in the family games and traditional feasting. "Who knew you’d fit right in with the family, Aman?" she marveled as Aman deftly negotiated with her aunties over sweet boxes. "I adapt well," he grinned back, devotion evident in his efforts to be part of her world. In his steadiness, Jaya found room to breathe. They stole moments to themselves amid candle-lit wicks and maroon drapes. "What are we?" the words stumbled out one night as they watched firework showers erupt over the old city walls. "We are what we choose," Aman said, placing a warm hand over hers, as earnest as the street vendors peddling romance in the form of cotton candy. And what they chose was more than a rekindled friendship. Under the playfulness and Diwali lights was a quiet certainty in the pathway they'd started carving together. Jaya sensed that with Aman, her colors were brighter, and the sparklers of emotions they had always been wary of exploring, now beckoned them forward. Their journey wasn't supposed to unravel like a fairy tale, but somehow it did. Or perhaps, it was just as Jaya preferred — sparkling with spontaneity, wrapped up in the magic of everyday moments, and unexpectedly, irrefutably theirs.