How Adulthood Changed the way I Look at the Festive Season

Waking up to chores and responsibilities’, my teen self, hated the run-up to Diwali. The vacuum cleaner would magically appear to suck away a large chunk of my vacation days with a clean sweep. Stressors would run amok as there was too much to do in too little time. We would all do our best to create a spotless illusion for those who would step into the house in the coming days. Back then, it used to all mean something, but I have only really understood the sentiment behind it now. A few weeks ago, I frantically scrubbed away my rented apartment after confirming an electrician’s visit to fix a squeaky fan. That day, I realised that the most crucial stressor behind any cleaning spree I had ever participated in, willingly or not, was the fear of judgement. It’s almost an accepted code, this fear and as I’ve grown older I have kind of taught myself to grow beyond it.

I question things now, which inevitably sucks out the fun from rituals and customs — and makes for some really uncomfortable conversations.

Festive cheer forges the way for new clothes, food, people and force-fit mingling. A part of me likes having people around and listening to the stories but then the spotlight, when I was younger would unnecessarily shift to me, my grades and plans for an uncertain future. Maybe that is just how all Indian house gatherings are, cautious examinations of the young. There used to be some loud bursts of chaotic happiness too. Crackers were my first brush with the conflicting ideas around celebrating anything really. On the one hand, I got schooled about their effects on the environment and how the business ran on the backs of exploited tiny kids. On the other, they bought me so much unfiltered joy – rays of hope in the sky, rupturing darkness with crackling glee. What kid wouldn’t fall for that? Over time, like all things out of reach per one’s desires, crackers stopped being precious and magical. They are now just noisy disturbances that give me a headache and make people on my social feeds unhappy. Is this what adulthood feels like? The inability to enjoy anything without also compulsively rationalising it. I question things now, which inevitably sucks out the fun from rituals and customs — and makes for some really uncomfortable conversations. I tend to look at things from the lens of logic and feminism, that make most ritualistic celebrations unbearable to a certain degree.

There are more places to visit and experiences to absorb. The festive world doesn’t seem as limited as it did in childhood.

Not everything has taken a turn for the worse. Having my own money has changed things mostly for the good. Each year, I get more say in how things would unfold. It is both surreal and terrifying. Thanks to capitalism, I have a larger group of people to co-exist with across the season and a longer list of monetary joys to spend on. There are more places to visit and experiences to absorb. The festive world doesn’t seem as limited as it did in childhood. I can now buy expensive candles and fancy diyas. I can choose to decorate with roses and dahlias rather than sticking to marigolds and aam ka patta. I can spend on pretty fairy lights and things that even though they last, do in some way, in my memory. Is it just control we adults seek? When you make choices that are different from your loved ones, especially about shared festive experiences, it is never easy. It comes with baggage, taunts and arguments about what’s just and what’s allowable. Gifting someone something sour and spicy instead of sweet can be considered an absurd choice. Picking a new set of dishes for the dinner menu can warrant questions. Wanting to spend the day away from home can land you the death stare.

Is adulthood simply a sobering reality plastered along the opposite sides of the same humbling coin? Each yearning for the ‘other’?

For someone who has spent all festive occasions at home, it has been my biggest hurdle to cross – the spirit that is of my own making. It’s why I never understood people who make those last minute dash home or the ones who sob about not having their leave approved. Is adulthood simply a sobering reality plastered along the opposite sides of the same humbling coin? Each yearning for the ‘other’? Why would you want to return to your roots when you have a world out there to explore? What is it about this comfort these seek in spaces that I find, sometimes, suffocating? Yes, people like me exist. It’s weird to say this but social media has in some way rescued me from these questions. I can get a glimpse into the celebrations of people I don’t even know. Their happiness spreads across my screen, eclipsing any bickering in the background. It also gives me a certain amount of control and leverage over the things I actually wish to do. Not because it’s customary, but because to be festive, could also mean to be at peace with irregularity, a bit of tardiness, a bit of lethargy and maybe even a lack of enthusiasm.