Today was a public holiday, which doesn’t really mean much when you are a freelancer, other than that there are more people on the MRT and you can’t go to the bank. But I tried to make the most of Diwali, or Deepavali, one of my favourite festivals of any culture or religion in the world. So fragrant, so bright, so crazy. After braving the mosh pit that was the festival market in Little India to buy myself some traditional sweets, savouries and bejewelled stuffed elephants in the weekend, I returned to join in the Deepavali hangover this afternoon.
I found swarms of lathargic lads talking on cellphones, and lighting the last of the country’s supply of fire crackers, while torrential rain did its best to wash away the last of the sweeties, confetti and spices that had been pressed into the asphalt. The lights are out. But thankfully the dosai vendors are still pumping.