Deepavali Memories

It’s the Monday after, as I write this.

My street and those all around my place are full of the remains of two days of relatively subdued Deepavali celebrations – with the remnants of the so called “Lakshmi”, “Double Sound” and “Lanka” crackers the most visible, littered like grounded confetti…

And then there are the Deepams, perched on the boundary walls and besides main gates. Some look almost unlit (though there’s the black eye of a burnt wick staring back at you), evidently put out by the cold winds that blow this time of the year; others are well and truly spent, burnt through and through, right to the end of the wick and the last drop of oil – and in burning adding the light of yet another Deepams to the festival of lights – Deepavali.

Light is central to my own memories of Deepavali, my earliest recollections of Deepavali being the recital of “Dubbu Dubbu Deepavali, Malli Vochhey Naagulachavithi”, when I was a little man, with my left hand clutching onto my grandmother and the right hand holding a papaya leaf, its ends festooned with oil-stained pieces of cloth lit up and flaming with light, like so many Deepams.

There is no specific meaning (superficial or deep) that can be ascribed to “Dubbu Dubbu Deepavali, Malli Vochhey Naagulachavithi”, at least none according to Amma (Naagulachavithi however is another festival that comes after Deepavali). When I play amateur anthropologist, I conclude that in all probability its just a ditty meant to safely introduce little men (and women) amongst my community to the Matabulu, Chunchi Buddis and Taara Zuvvalu (Telugu names for home made / locally produced sparklers, fountains and rockets) that would have seemed so dangerous to a little man (or woman).

I don’t know if Dubbu Dubbu is equally important amongst Telugu households these days as it was when I was growing up. Or even if it was that important when I was growing up - though Amma says that my brothers and I partook in this ritual dressed in festival finery till we were 5 years young / old.

Maybe it’s yet another rite of passage for which most of the families these days have no time, or it’s a rite of passage that most have passed by, but come Deepavali, when the Deepams are being lit, the same ditty still echoes in me – “Dubbu Dubbu Deepavali, Malli Vochhey Naagulachavithi”