Rangoli beside our door means one thing. Diwali!
Colored powders, various beans, and a few candles set around the entry welcome our visitors. Our virtual visitors.
Welcome, virtual visitors!
See who has already come? The purple-footed Lakshmi tip-toeing around the fern.
A confession: I’m no fan of rangoli. They irk me so. Such beautiful creations, they catch the eye and inspire joy. What’s to oppose?
The designs, which can absorb their creators for hours, which require patience and a steady hand, will soon be swept away by wind and brooms and footsteps.
Such intense effort; such fleeting glory. I like art that stays.
This morning, I fused my fingers together with superglue, the resin stiff and lasting on my fingertips. I’d set about repairing my son’s diya, shaped last year with clay to resemble India’s national bird. But the peacock broke on the bus ride home.
Superglue resin will stay with me for the week, I’m sure.
The peacock will be with us for at least another year.
The rangoli, we’ll have to do all over again.
Let me find some optimism in this. The rangoli of 2020 shall pass. May the rangoli of 2021 be inspired by a year filled with human interaction.