The Flickering Shadows of Diwali Night

Every year, Diwali at the Kapoor household was a grand affair. The courtyard strung with fairy lights and tables laden with sweets, Anaya felt snug in the warmth but intruded by her loud cousins and the incessant fireworks. Being 17 and wanting a deeper sense of celebration, she'd often slip away to her room, avoiding the chaos. But this Diwali, something felt different. Amid the colorful chaos, shadows flickered oddly as the evening wore on. As Anaya stepped back to her room, she noticed the shadows on the wall behaving strangely. Intrigued, she followed them with her eyes. It was eerie—the shadows moved as if they were animated by their desires. At first, Anaya thought it was a trick of the light, but as the evening grew darker and the firecrackers louder, the shadows continued their mysterious dance. Frustrated and a little frightened, she decided to put it out of her mind and joined the family's festivities once again. Later that night, as Anaya lay in bed, she heard a scratching noise at her window. A figure, tall and shadowy, stood outside, where it should've only been bushes. Her heart pounded, a nervous sweat slicking her palms. Gathering courage, she climbed out of her bed and mustered the nerve to draw the curtains. There, she saw the outline of an old man with piercing eyes glaring through. Instinctively, she pulled away, jabbing a call to her mom on the phone. But before she could answer, the silhouette disappeared, leaving only her racing heart and curiosity behind. The next day, while examining the site during daylight, Anaya found something unexpected—a faded photograph half-buried in the soil—a sepia-toned picture of a man, identical to her midnight visitor. Her curiosity took charge, and she found herself enmeshed in a quest to understand who the man was and why his shadow visited her that night. She couldn't rest until she got answers. Her research began innocently enough through family photo albums that revealed old records of generations past. Of these, one thing stood out—a faded diary kept by her great-grandfather. It was cryptic, speaking of a curse placed during his youth that manifested during Diwali nights; a curse entwined with shadows and voices. And then, the diary revealed something startling—Anaya's family once wronged an old man over a bitter land dispute. As tradition and sacraments hadn't mended the broken, the accursed man supposedly vowed to hound for justice until his shadow avenged him. Anaya felt a chill run down her spine. This was no ghost; this was a restless soul seeking redemption, a shadow yearning to be free. With less than a night left before Diwali ended, Anaya knew she needed to act. As the shadows deepened on her home that evening, she waited. Glancing sharply, she muttered an unpracticed prayer taught by the same diary. Then she saw him, more tangible than any story. “Old Man, we stand, young and old in steps of today for the wrong once wrought," she whispered, stepping closer to where the shadow stopped at her window. She reached out, uncertain but determined. If they were to be free, she had to right this wrong, acknowledge the pain. Something reverberated, echoing through Anaya as the shadow shimmered momentarily before disappearing into the night sky. In the following days, Diwali's lights were brighter, their warmth calming, as if the house itself exhaled a sigh of relief. Traditions carried on, now shadow-free, though her mother always lit an extra diya by the windowsill. For Anaya, midnight stories held different meaning post Diwali—understanding that beneath every whispered tale, every flickering shadow, souls sought peace and justice. It was a Diwali she'd never forget.