It was Diwali and Chauhan Uncle was sitting in his rocking chair listening to the sound of crackers burst  in his neighbourhood.  This was  an unusual Diwali for him,  yet he kept on telling himself that he would pull through it.  He was watching CNBC in TV with his cup of masala tea and biscuits which the cook had just handed him.  He was all alone in his huge Bungalow.  He remembered the day they were first stepping in this house.  His wife,  a young woman then. Even today he fondly remembers how happy he felt when they all entered this bungalow… with Smriti and Ankur  jumping in joy when they were shown their rooms. The entire bungalow of his had then bursted with shouts of joy and enthusiasm of the kids. Now the Bungalow stood quiet and dark as he sat there alone on Diwali.

Chauhan Uncle had finished his tea and biscuits and he took a walk from his chair to the French windows of his sitting parlour. All around he could see only lights. All the houses of his neighbourhood was glistening in lights accept his.  It’s not that Chauhan Uncle hadn’t considered illuminating his house with lights like every year, but he left the thought as he didn’t feel like doing anything alone.   Aunty was in US with Smriti, their only daughter who had  just delivered a baby and Ankur was in Australia… at least that was the last he had heard about him.   ‘For a lonely old man of late sixties who is all by himself in Diwali it hardly would make any difference to decorate his home or to light crackers’, thought Chauhan uncle as he quietly sipped his tea.

While he was coming back to his rocking chair he stumbled at the cupboard and the family photo displayed on top of it fell down.  He, his wife, Smriti and Ankur looked so perfect together.  He fondly remembered their childhood and lay his hands on the photo. Smriti, a little girl then… a mother now and Ankur….. ?

Ankur was  Chauhan Uncle’s only weak area. The very mention and thought of Ankur raged him, little did anyone know that his rage at the mention of Ankur’s name was only a canopy of the pain and sorrow that Ankur had caused to him by marrying Matilda,  his beau and batchmate of B school days in US.

Chauhan Uncle always considered  as a failure of his own upbringing that his son Ankur, on whom he had laid hope and pride,  went ahead to marry an American.. more so a catholic.   Thoughts of Ankur took him back to that catastrophic day  years back when Ankur had visited India just after his final placement for a vacation and proposed marrying Matilda to him.  Chauhan Uncle had outrightly refused. However modern the society may be these days, he could never consent his son, a Rajput,  marrying a Christian American who had no family lineage.

The father and son arguement went heated and Chauhan uncle threatened Ankur that if he went ahead marrying that American girl then he would write Ankur off all his property. He would live rest of his life believing that he never had a son at all.  Ankur didn’t listen and left home forever. Eversince then,  four  years have passed but Chauhan Uncle and Ankur are not in touch.

Its not that Uncle doesn’t miss Ankur. Sometimes, when he is alone in his room, he holds Ankur’s childhood photos to his bosom and quiety shed tears.  However ,  in company, Chauhan Uncle always gets agitated and raged at the very mention of his son’s name.

The doorbell rang to bring him back from a world of thoughts that his mind was captivated in.  Knowing that Raghu, his servant of years was downstairs to attend the door, Chauhan Uncle didn’t bother much. Must be some vendor. He wasn’t expecting any visitor.  For the next couple of minutes,  uncle sat in his rocking chair watching TV when he suddenly had the feel, as if someone was standing in the doorway  which was to his back. 

It was a young man of late twenties,  tall and strong built just as he was in his youth, the same smile and the same dark brown eyes. He may have not seen him for the last couple of years but it took him less than a minute to recognise Ankur.  His heart skipped a beat and instantly he felt he should go ahead and hug him but with it came thoughts of Matilda and he turned stern again.

” Papa… its me. How have you been? Our Bungalow, one of the biggest houses of this neighbourhood, stands dark on a Diwli night with no lights?  Can we celebrate Diwali together? Papa… pls.”, Ankur had come in a step nearer to him but Chauhan uncle, with his Rajput strictness,  put a hand forward asking him to stay where he was.  He could never compromise with his principles and family tradition…. just then he saw a little figure behind Ankur. A young plump girl with curly blonde hair.  Chauhan Uncle hadn’t noticed till then that the little girl was standing there all the time behind Ankur.

Now, suddenly, without giving Chauhan Uncle any time, the little girl came running to him, climbed on his lap and hugging him said..        ” Dadu… I love you, love you a lot. That’s my Papa and I am Sia.”

Chauhan Uncle couldn’t hold his emotions  anymore. His heart melted like wax and he hugged the young one , while tears of love streamed out of  his eyes.  He was touched by the warmth of her love,  more so because she was named “Sia”… the name of his mother.  He called Ankur to him and the father and son embraced each other to heal all the wounds of the past. 

“Come Papa.. let’s go downstairs.” , said Ankur as he helped Chauhan Uncle down the stairs with little Sia in his arms.

As he came down,  Uncle was shocked to see a huge Rangoli done on the main sitting area with illuminated lamps on all sides, holy banana trees and “Mangal Ghat” ( Holy pots) on the other side. Matilda was standing there, head bent down wearing a red saree with the pallu(veil) on her head.

As Ankur and Matilda touched his feet, in  crystal clear  Hindi, Matilda said,” Papa Humein Ashirvaad dijiye, Maaf kar dijiye. …. AApko Dipawali ki shubhkamnaei.“, which means papa please bless us, forgive us and wish you a prosperous Diwali. Not for a moment did Chauhan uncle feel that she was an American apart from her looks.

Chauhan uncle hugged both Ankur and Matilda and blessed them. He forgot everything of the past and realised that his son had not made a wrong choice. Later that evening,  all of them together decorated their Bungalow with bright colourful lights  and burst crackers as an excited little Sia kept on dancing, laughing and clapping hands. Uncle looked at her and felt that he had been missing quite a lot in the last few years.

He gave Matilda a gold necklace that belonged to his mother and asked Raghu to prepare for Goddess Laxmi’s puja. Matilda surprised him again when she took permission from him to do the puja.

Chauhan Uncle’s heart filled with love and respect for Matilda as he saw her do the  rituals of Laxmi Puja elaborately, ringing bells, doing arati , preparing prasad,  and also singing a bhajan.

As Matilda finished the puja and came to seek blessings from Chauhan Uncle, he made her sit near him and lovingly asked how she managed to learn so much about Indian Culture?

In fluent Hindi Matilda replied, … ” I knew I was in love with Ankur, an Indian.. I wanted to be a pure Indian Wife, A Rajput’s wife. Ankur taught me to speak in Hindi and I took classes to cook Rajasthani dishes, do rangoli,  make patterns of Mehendi and Royal Rajsthani paintings. I know you are angry on us but Papa we love and respect you a lot.”

Chauhan Uncle had no words, he just put his hand lovingly on Matilda’s head.

” Papa, It was Matilda who on a web Chat with Smriti Didi came to know that this Diwali you will be alone at home. She started nagging me that we should all come here to be with you, to celebrate Diwali together and ask forgiveness from you.  Diwali is not a time to be alone. It is to be with family. I had no other option but to finally give in to her demands.”, added in Ankur.

That Diwali was one of the most happiest Diwalis for Chauhan Uncle. Little Sia got her Grandparents and the vaccum of the huge bungalow disappeared as Ankur took a transfer back to India in the next few months.  Chauhan Uncle and Matilda are best of friends now and he proudly speaks about his daughter in law to his friends and me.  Sometimes  he invites us to their place to treat us to the “Dal Baati Churma” that Matilda awesomely prepares. As we savour the delicious food, he smiles and tells us ……………

 ” On a Diwali night Goddess Laxmi has in reality stepped in my house and I will keep her forever.” 

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