“Would you like to come out with us tonight for Diwali” our guesthouse owner,Atul, inquires expectantly.  Not to seem overly excited, I answer quietly, “We’d be honored!”.  We have arrived in India on an auspicious day, Diwali, the Festival of Lights, and one of the most important festivals in India.   Each household pays homage to Laxshmi, the goddess of wealth and material well-being with a puja (blessing ceremony).

Devna and Atul, our hosts, live in one of the poshest residential areas in Delhi and they rent out three rooms in their home to guests.

Filled with old photos from the Raj era and Indian carvings, the place is a peaceful escape from the hustle and bustle of the city.  The traveling Priest was scheduled to arrive momentarily (Indian Standard Time) and the household was busying itself with preparations. Candles were lit along the walkway leading to the house, and garlands of marigolds were strung on the entrance gate.

“We will leave at 6pm and go first to my Mom’s house and then to some friends, OK?”   “Ten minutes more”, from Atul, becomes one hour as Devna burns her finger on a hot candle pot, requiring a frantic search for bandages and salves.

Mamaji’s house is festively lit, like the others in the neighborhood, and tables are set with all sorts of goodies- samosas, chole, soups, chat and various breads.There is a quick puja with chanting and singing at their house shrine and  the off we go onto the next stop.

Down the road we enter a home  that looks straight out of Architectural Digest- designed by the husband/wife architect  owners. The house is built on four levels and each room has a unique design,with contemporary Indian touches.

“Don’t forget to leave some room for sweets, my daughter is a baker”, pleaded our hostess. Mini cupcakes scented with cardamom,  and truffles of dark chocolate filled with Nutella, are offered to us as we tour the house.

I am  now in the back seat  of the car sandwiched between Devna and her mother.  Devna has her burnt finger soaking in a bowl of ice water and each time we hit a bump she shrieks.  The water is splashing all over her elegant sari. We barrel down the road with the sounds of BOOM BOOMS from fireworks and fire bombs in our path.

When we reach our final destination at 10 pm, gambling and liquor are added to the mix.  I am so happy that I brought some decent clothes to wear on this trip, although it pales in comparison to the fabulous saris the women  are wearing.  The diamonds and rubies on their wrists and fingers are as big as golf balls.

 

 

As the midnight hour approaches, Gerald and I start to fade. The party will surely go on until the morning, but we bid our fond farewells and drag ourselves around the block, back to our guesthouse.