Almost every major festival is lit up with the brilliance of lights. It was no different this Diwali as I watched buildings come alive with pops of colour. It was difficult to believe you weren’t back home.
Individual flats in my building vied with each other with decorative doorways festooned with rangoli (powdered colour arranged in symbolic shapes), inviting one to step over the threshold.
There were also a variety of lamps, both modern and traditional. I must admit I prefer the earthenware ones, which require some effort. They have to be soaked in water first and dried before pouring oil into these tiny receptacles. Then there is the arduous task of fashioning cotton wicks, although I wouldn’t be surprised if you get these too ready-made now. This is the quick-fix age after all.
Every supermarket and even the tinier groceries stock an array of festive decorations. Looking at these brings back powerful memories.
When we were young, we were enthusiastic about making our own decorations. Out came the scissors and crepe paper in a variety of hues and the more artistic among us created magical patterns from paper. The rolls rippled and waves, mirroring our exuberance. For once there was no fighting over who was doing more and who was shirking.
The jobs were divided according to ability and each one of us felt we were making a valuable contribution.
If there were signs of flagging interest, all it took was a few words from mum such as “Let’s not do anything this year” to galvanise us into action.
Fortunately, the neighbourhoods we lived in had no high-rise buildings and, as night fell, the houses came alive. Some of us would take a walk around the locality to admire the lights, noting which home outshone the other, as well as filing away mental reminders of how we could jazz up our own the next time around.
Eid in Dubai is truly a spectacular sight, with imaginatively placed lights strung across bridges, underpasses, main roads and gardens. It is a fairy-tale like experience driving around the city. The date palms strewn with white lights are a favourite of mine. Visitors and residents alike are wowed by the effect which lifts the mood. However cynical you might be, you can’t help being moved by the myriad dancing lights.
It’s the same at Christmas time. In homes around the world, the tree is brought out from storage if it is made of artificial materials or one is bought from a tree yard. All the knick-knacks that go on it are carefully unwrapped. Many of these have sentimental value and, as they are taken out of their packaging, the family members are struck by a torrent of memories. Their history is shared by the family and the young ones learn the story behind each one.
I spent a memorable Christmas in Spain with a sister (who is sadly no more) some years ago and it is one I will never forget. We were joined by other members of the family spread across several continents. It was fascinating to experience new Spanish customs adopted by the host family combined with the excitement of the exchange of gifts and a Santa who was gung-ho about the ‘Ho ho ho’ part of his job. After a sumptuous dinner, out came all the board games and play time began. As soon as a team realised it was losing, there was a clamour for a change in game. And so it went on till the wee hours of the morning.
What I remember most was the reversal of roles, with the adults behaving childishly and the children admonishing them to be more decorous in keeping with their great age! Needless to say, the grown-ups stepped up their antics to teach the young ones it was a time for throwing seemly behaviour to the winds and getting into the spirit of the moment.
