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I Didn’t Know I Could Make Art
Three Rangolis, Twenty-Six Diyas, Five Phuljhadis, and an Unexpected Encounter with My Own Creativity
Every Diwali, I make rangolis. It’s become something of a tradition. And every year, I try something new, experiment a little, make a few mistakes, improvise, and somehow end up with something better than the previous year’s creation.
This year, however, I think I outdid myself.
And I am saying this with absolutely no intention of being modest. I am genuinely obsessed with what I made. I keep looking at the photographs, zooming into the details, and thinking, Did I actually make that?
But before I get to the rangolis, let’s establish something important about my relationship with Diwali.
I love the lights. I love the decorations. I love the flowers, the sweets, the festive atmosphere, and the general feeling that the world has temporarily agreed to look a little more beautiful.
Firecrackers, however, are a different matter.
I am terrified of them.
Not mildly uncomfortable. Not someone who prefers to watch from a distance. I mean genuinely, unnecessarily, almost comically terrified.
