The Lantern's Secret

\"You better not be late again for the puja, Aryan!\" Aryan's mother called from the kitchen, her voice mingling with the clatter of pans. The air was rich with the aroma of cardamom sweets, mingling with spices she skillfully balanced. The house brimmed with warmth, ready to welcome family for the Diwali celebration that night. They had arrived in Saharanpur just that morning, Aryan holding a book in one hand and a frown on his face. How he longed to stay back in Delhi, where soccer matches with his friends awaited instead of these obscure rituals that seemed never-ending. Aryan retreated into his thoughts until his eyes caught a flicker of mesmerizing gold in an otherwise cluttered storeroom. Curiosity overtook him as he found his fingers brushing against an old lantern. Picking it up, he noticed the faint inscriptions along its sides. \"What is this?\" he mused aloud, feeling a strange pull. Aryan flicked the switch beneath, surprised by a gush of exotic light spilling the room in a radiant mist. At that moment, Rekha, Aryan's precocious cousin from the backwaters of Kerala, bounced in, her face always animated with stories and impossible questions. "Hey, a magic lamp?" she teased, poking it playfully. Aryan shook his head, his grin unwavering. Everyone was gathered on the veranda when he emerged, the lantern swinging along his side. Nobody seemed to notice it initially, busy amongst conversations and bursts of laughter. Aryan watched the lamp's magic play across the rows of diyas lined neatly along window sills, feeling weirdly connected to the glimmer. Later, when the family congregated for dinner underneath a tapestry of stars, Aryan heard whispers coming from within the lantern. \"I wish Ajay papa could join us this Diwali,\" he blurted instinctively. Ajay papa was the uncle who had mysteriously disappeared years ago without a trace, leaving a chasm in reminisced gatherings. A rhythmic chant wafted up from the lantern ensuring Aryan's heart paused in unsettling harmony. It was Rekha who spoke first, her voice a sliver of wonder. \"Do you think the lantern could bring Ajay papa back?\" Scoffs came from the older cousins, laughter tinkling lightly amidst the tension. But Aryan held on to hope. The growing glow of the lantern seemed to mimic a heartbeat, sending tendrils of anticipation over the crowd. His mother noticed Aryan's gaze firm upon the horizon and followed, almost missing the flicker of a figure beneath the moon's watchful eye. The closer the shadow grew, the clearer Ajay papa emerged from the darkness, unsteady steps drawing gasps all around. Amid chaos and questions, Ajay reminisced stories that others had replaced with his absence. Turns out he'd built a new life in the hills after being trapped emotionally and physically in the city. The lantern beamed brighter still, Aryan and Rekha sharing a knowing smile, glimmers of the Diwali night reflected in their eyes. In earlier hours, as guests started to disperse and families settled around, Aryan pulled the little book from his pocket. Georgia Nicholson's misadventures always managed to rescue him from reality, and, today, from the turn he had engineered with his wish other than when Rekha suddenly chanced upon him. \"I knew this book was magic!\" she chuckled, wrapping an arm around Aryan. The cousin duo watched Ajay papa animatedly talk about his newfound independence. One by one as stars dimmed and set sail beyond the realm of vision, the lantern's light flickered goodbye to the night it had granted memory steeped with small miracles. Family, intact. Bonds, unbroken. The genuine closeness that emerged over a humble Diwali broke layers Aryan hadn't ever understood till now. This seldom-needed magic unmistakably acted as glue rather than sparkles dragging orbs in opposite trajectories. That rare moment of truth and belief remained all-empowering, reviving connections kept dormant but alive. Aryan turned the switch off gently, understanding that no magic other than pure human connection was needed anymore.\n The lantern's secrets would forever bind them in stories passed down generations.