It was one of those Diwali evenings when the air smells of sweets and sparklers, and the whole town is wrapped in strings of lights that flicker like a luminous river. Riya Sharma's favorite time of year. Tonight, she'd finally get the chance to slow down, enjoy the rituals, and maybe even meet a few new faces in the ever-changing neighborhood of Sanjay Nagar.
Having returned to her family home after years in the city as a detective, Riya loved the way the festival gathered everyone, familiar and unfamiliar, in celebration. Her parents, bless their excitement, had coaxed her into organizing the communal fireworks display at the park later that evening. Until then, she had free reign to enjoy the festivities.
Riya buttoned up her kurta jacket and wandered the streets. Each house she passed was brimming with laughter and happiness, but the moment she crossed by the Verma residence, she felt a peculiar chill. The Verma family was as traditional as apple pie, always hosting pujas and dinner parties. But tonight, their home lay unusually hushed, save for a strange glow visible through their window.
Her curiosity didn't need much more than that. As naturally as others might bake cookies for a neighbor, Riya started toward the notoriously privy household. Halfway down the stone path, the glow waned, replaced by a hurried shadow inside.
Riya knocked softly, her detective's instincts telling her there was more to see. "Hello? Mr. Verma? It's me, Riya Sharma," she called in her best “nothing out of place” voice.
The door creaked inward, revealing a wide-eyed Mrs. Verma. "Riya! Happy Diwali, dear. Please, come in," she fretted over wayward strand of hair, glancing nervously upstairs. The glow had completely vanished.
"Happy Diwali, Auntie," Riya replied, stepping in. "I saw the lights — they were… beautiful. Everything alright?"
"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes, so much excitement, you know how it is," Mrs. Verma replied with that laugh detected as covering something up.
Past the sitting room, just visible up the stairs where the light had been so vivid, a voice quipped, "Are you sure she's not suspicious?" before being muffled quickly.
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Riya decided to switch gears. "It's hard to keep expectations in line, isn't it? But I miss it during Diwali in the city."
Mrs. Verma cast her a thankful look and miraculously calmed a bit under the subtext. "Well, it can be refreshing to dip festival sweets, light unsynced fairy lights, and feel far away from the world, right?"
Riya smiled, filing her observation for later: unsynced.
Fast forward to the late-night fireworks display. Riya’s sharp eyes caught flashes of various delights among the crowd, but she kept Mrs. Verma’s house in her peripheral vision. There, she sensed something almost domestic but distinctly off-sync.
And when the clock struck midnight, the scattered glow came alive once more, but this time, in a sequence, as if orchestrated.
“What a well-timed display,” someone next to her remarked, but Riya was already on her feet, heading back toward the home of unintentional mysteries.
The gate remained ajar now, the chaos an open book that had been prematurely shut. Following the trail to their kitchen window, Riya saw the diner setup—four chairs—despite Mr. Verma a known bachelor.
Stepping quietly, her find revealed: former neighbors, avoiding fireworks after a bad experience, sitting to feast together. “One of those explosive-less Diwalis,” Mr. Verma confessed with a grin.
The curious glow? The unique new LED system, unknowingly interacting with other electronics — brightly unconventional yet beautiful. Riya couldn't suppress her chuckle.
Riya joined them, a seat offered eagerly. It was not the revelation of a crime, but a misfit community finding its harmony against the 'bright' traditions. The mystery unfolded, not by unraveling, but in joining in. It's moments like these that make her grateful for such unsuspecting twists.
And so, the night was packed with laughter, secrets not meant to keep, and genuine love spread in ways only understanding neighbors truly can.