It is a memory that has held over the years: there is always a wick that no one can see and then one bend, holo na, second bend, holo na, third bend, holo na, the sparkler's giving out but that's exactly why we bought the long ones, no? Go in for a fourth bend and suddenly there's a whipcrack jerking back of the body, things explode in light and there is the silhouette of a figure running away framed by an orange eruption. Then there's the smoke.

As a kid I clapped my hands every time I saw a pretty burst of fireworks in the sky, that has held over the years too.

In the mornings the compound always looks like there's been a war fought all over it, white scorchmarks and pieces of charred but still-glittering paper flying around or dangling from bushes like sorry streamers. There is always molten wax from spent candles and this sensation of breathing in a new world. But then the people in this complex, I have realised, are way more expensive than the people in my old building, so maybe it's a new world I'm breathing in after all, a superfancy cracker-buying world where every family has one crate at least of one-light pre-set super rockets, ten at one go, Cock Brand Sivakasi only. See how they fly. That's not to say I can't watch, there will always be incentive to clap. Mostly because it isn't something you can control, clapping. It comes out at the weirdest moments.

Besides, I lit one little charkhi inspite of being Jaded and Weary, and then felt like an idiot for not going cracker shopping, so all's good. Next time I shall go as far as buying those useless glowing matches for the heck of it. Green and red colour only. Maybe I'll use them to light Snakes, which I shall also buy for heck of it. And then, and then, who will stop me, eh?