Let there be light

Munni always loved it here. She loved the dangling chandelier, the staircase that swirled into the top floor, the marbled floors where she glimpsed herself every time she cleaned it, the fireplace made of silvery stone that sparkled like sand in the sunshine, the curtains that swayed in the wind gushing from the side-window, the vast picture of a chariot driver guiding a rider with a bow and arrow, in middle of a war-field while the army seemed spelled or frozen.

As long as she could remember, she could always picture herself there. Earlier, she used to play around her mother while she washed clothes or swept the floor. Sometimes, the mistress gave her toys to play with. She would play with rapture but she could never apprehend why the doll was without a hand or the car had no wheels. But now, her mother said she was a big girl and she succoured her in doing the dishes, washing the clothes and cleaning the furniture of their master’s house.

Today, she found everything intriguing. There was an implicit energy ubiquitous in the atmosphere. Servants decorated the home with lights and flowers, the house was ensured immaculate. The mistress supervised the cleaning and yelled repeatedly at her mother; every time she found a speck of dirt on the floor or on the furniture her mother just finished cleaning. “I want Goddess Lakshmi to bestow her blessings on us today”, the mistress yelled whenever she was exasperated with the servants. “Today is the festival of light, Deepavali. Goddess Lakshmi visits the best lit and clean home and blesses it with money and happiness”, her mother later explained to Munni, still busy with the cleaning of house even though the day progressed swiftly.

Soon, the sky gleamed red, gathering the last of the light, as the sun headed back to its origin. The decorations in the house were still on and it was some time before Munni’s mother could leave for home. She realised that it would be late before she left for cooking dinner at home.“Munni, you better leave for home and start preparing for the dinner. But, the mustard oil is also finished”, said she, pondering over the dinner paraphernalia. “OK, buy half a litre from Lala’s shop in the way home. I’ll cook saag for my little princess today.” She said handing over the money to Munni. She left without delay for the grocery shop.

She could easily make out her home from distance. It was bland and conspicuous by absence of dwellings around it. She always travelled along the same rutted path flanked on both sides by knee-tall grass, making her linger on every step she took. The walls looked crumpled as the mud parted way for cracks into them. A thin asbestos sheet on top to occlude the rain water had narrow openings through which sunlight crept in the morning. Inside, the wall was sodden on the edges while thickets of soot and layers of cobweb, encrusted on it, looked akin.

She knew what she had to do. She at once started scraping the soot layers and cleaned the floor. She arrayed the kitchen items and cleaned the chulha. She swept off the leaves and twigs fallen on the verandah. She, then, took cotton lumps and carefully rolled it between her palms to prepare cotton wicks. Then, she poured the mustard oil she just bought into baked clay diyas and placed a wick in each. Finally, the diyas were lit and the house glimmered in the light. She knew Goddess Lakshmi would bestow her blessings today.

She was outraged beyond confines, her wrath knew no bound. She slapped and pummelled Munni. She incessantly ranted and beat her, wilting with every strike. “How could you, you haraami. How could you squander the oil in that diya. Now, how will I cook the saag, in your blood? ,” her mother kept ranting.

A strong gush of wind flickered the flame. The flame of the diyas endured but finally gave up. Darkness and penury reigned the house again.