This is my second post about people and the time I have had with them. Something about the festive season, always carries nostalgia. And, Diwali lights always make me think of people. Some who glow steady, some who flicker, some who embody warmth, some colorful.
The first phuljhari I lit this year took its own sweet time. I kept flicking the lighter, cursing the breeze, wondering if maybe even sparklers had given up on me. And then, phssstt, it caught fire. Bright, wild, alive.
Maybe that’s how people work too. You keep trying, thinking you’re alone in the dark, and suddenly someone’s laughter, a text, a hug lights you up again.
✨ Family Lights
My parents are that first diya from which you light everything else. The very big, bright, unfazed by chaos. The kind that burns steady through blackouts and bad days. My mom fills rooms (and tiffins) till even my sadness has no space left. My dad’s the quiet fix-it light who appears before I can even say, “Yaar, bulb gaya.” And somehow, over time the tide has turned to me being able to give them my opinions. And it has made me realise ki bade diyon ki mehak bhi chhoton so badh sakti hai.
And my brother? The human spark plug. Annoys me to the edge of rolling my eyes, then drops one line that makes me laugh till my stomach hurts. Shows up just when I’ve given up that he might even call me. Proof that sometimes the brightest lights also flicker the loudest.
✨ School Fairy Lights
Then come my school friends. The fairy lights I get to untangle once in do saal, and somehow, they still glow. We met in Bangalore after ages, and within five minutes were gossiping about people who now exist only as Facebook memories. We laughed our souls out, the same way we used to in corridors that smelled of chalk and judgement for untied hair. Gayathri’s wit, Navya’s calm, Shalmali’s unstoppable giggles, together they remind me that some friendships don’t fade; they just go offline for a bit.
And Tushar, Shitikshu, Dhanvi, the constants of my teenage universe, from then till now they can still all drag me back with one, “Yaar tu ab bhi high-dose energy hai, but you overthink a lot.” We catch up over scattered texts, scrambling to make time. Yet, somehow they keep me so sane from afar.
The rest of that childhood gang still orbits somewhere in those memories as steady little bulbs that never fully go out.
✨ College Chaos Lights
College was chaos bottled in caffeine.
Mahira’s energy is the warmth that I remember from our chai like that one rainy afternoon where we decided life problems dissolve better in ginger.
Sristi’s Corn Cheese momos still show up in my dreams (as does her trademark sass). She’s the cheesiness I never admitted I needed, sharp outside, full heart inside. My first soulmate. From One Direction nights to me turning on basketball notifications for her, she built my first real home, even if it was just our dorm room. Maybe that’s what growing up really is. Spending time with her was me realising some homes don’t have walls, they have people who let you un-collapse in their presence.
Bhavya, my patakha partner-in-crime, once convinced me (or did I convince her?) to sprint across campus at 3 a.m. because “moonlight feels faster when you run.” If there’s someone I trust to do the most impulsive thing with me no questions asked, it is her. And even today, we are a fauj of our own.
And then there’s Arnav, Vasvi, Maitreyi, Avishi. They’re the conversation that goes from astrology to Bollywood to existential dread in one sitting. They all carry pieces of my wild brain and remind me what it means to be alive in many directions at once.
✨ Everyday Glow Lights
And then there’s Ananya. My calm in chaos. The one who teaches me philosophies between laughter, who somehow makes sense of every mess I narrate. Who knows all the problems that could arise in my flat because somehow she is always on call when something goes wrong. She loves jewellery as much as I do, so the sparkle never ends. Cham cham cham tu sitaare wargi, truly.
Vaibhav’s that random friend who arrived mid-trail and made it a story. We’ve gone from existential venting to spontaneous North-East trip plans in one 30 minute call. Possibly the fittest person I know, and defeating him in bowling remains a life highlight. A reminder that some connections, however random, are like fairy lights on timers. They show up right when it’s getting dark.
✨ Work Candles
And then there’s work. The part of adulthood I did not anticipate would bring me the connections it did. One night, deadline looming, oven on, dil racing. I had to finish a one-pager by morning, so I started baking cookies for emotional support. (And for my college friends above, who were visiting me in Kochi.)
Tanmay and Mehul stayed up with me: editing lines, and silently taste-testing. I think that’s adulthood’s love language: presence without fuss.
Kishan’s tough-love wisdom has shaped me more than I admit. The friendly manager who says, “Main toh bas potential waste nahi hone doonga.” By far the biggest reason, I have pushed myself this year. To explore ideas that drive me, to keep this blog running and take other leaps of faith.
And Lavika, my daily dost, turns even traffic jams into karaoke sessions. We once took an auto blasting old Hindi songs through a city that didn’t care, and that might have been my happiest half hour of the year. Apart from the one last week that we spent hours on call raving about. Somehow, you have been the parallel to my life and itne coincidences in timeline have made me feel connected beyond wordly measure with you.
Tanmay is my Modern-Family morning buddy and 11 a.m. sanity coffee during townhalls. The one who knows the caffeine-to-confidence ratio of my soul. My co-pilot through everything from professional breakdowns, personal chatter, and in-between silences. No one has ever asked me upfront for as much tareef and validation, but the funny thing is I have meant every nice thing I have had to say about you. Discussing pop culture references, having pizza and ideating having Jethalal in this blog post with you, somehow shows how you add some fun to everything. [Click on Jethalal to learn more]
And then there’s Mehul: louder, the heart of every party. We’ve had a million 2 a.m. tangents about everything from music to meaning. From beach-day samurais to three-scoop ice creams to wireframes drawn on windows. The sun-through-curtains kind of light. You made work lighter and conversations deeper. From chaotic brainstorms that turned into life talks, to café nights that somehow healed the day, you showed me what striving to grow and living while you are at it really means.
Some friendships aren’t built on constant presence but on small, steady reminders that you’re not alone in the room.
✨ The Glow That Stays
All of them: family, old friends, new ones, the ones who stayed up, the ones who showed up are my personal string of lights. Some blink fast, some glow slow. Some are sparkly disasters, some warm and still.
But each one, in their own chaotic, ridiculous, loving way, teaches me this simple thing:
Darkness doesn’t disappear; it just waits to be outnumbered.
So this Diwali, I’m not counting diyas. I’m counting people. The ones who made me laugh when the light went out. The ones who held the matchstick when I’d lost the flame.
The ones who remind me that staying warm isn’t about grand fireworks. It’s about showing up, staying soft, and glowing together without burning out. Because every spark starts the same way: one trembling matchstick, a little wind, and someone willing to try.
The Devil is in the Dee-tails :) 
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