The Silent Festival Within

A decade ago, Diwali meant magic. The excitement started weeks before choosing the best dress, waiting for the latest movie release, and proudly showing off new clothes to friends like it was an Olympic event. The sound of crackers, the aroma of sweets, and the glow of diyas made the day feel alive. I would wake up early, dress like a hero, visit the temple, and feel like the whole world was celebrating with me.

Now, it’s different. Not because I’ve become more mature, but because there’s nothing left to wait for. We live in a world where everything is available all the time. New dresses? Ordered any day. Movies? A click away on OTT. Midnight snacks? Delivered to the doorstep. Earlier, Diwali was the only day we could taste luxury. Now, every day feels the same or maybe every day feels dull.

This morning, I woke up, scrolled through my phone, and realized it’s Diwali! Instead of crackers, I heard the ping of WhatsApp wishes. Instead of temple bells, I had notification tones. I smiled, sent a few “Happy Diwali” texts, and went back to my coffee. The thrill is gone, but peace has taken its place.

Maybe that’s what growing up really means shifting from excitement to acceptance. We no longer chase the spark we become it in our own quiet way. Diwali today isn’t about lights outside, but about finding a small flicker inside. Still, a part of me misses that boy who used to count days for Diwali, standing at the gate in a new shirt, waiting for his friends to say, “Wow!”

Now? I just say “Happy Diwali” to myself  and move on, gently, with a smile.

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