Dear reader, The festival of lights is upon us. If you still visit this blog, stay blessed and have a wonderful year. Last year, I wrote Wir Werden Sehen blissfully unaware of how normal life would exit, stage left, a week later. More than a year has passed and we're limping towards a new kind of normalcy. My first Diwali without any parents is a strange one. On one hand, I am slightly nonplussed. It's akin to putting a 1000-piece puzzle together, only to find a piece missing. On the other hand, I am coming around to the idea of playing from the music sheet of life with insouciance if not aplomb. I spent the days leading up to Diwali reminiscing about years past. Waking up frightfully early, the dreaded oil bath, the anticipation of sweets & savouries and of course, the camaraderie of lighting firecrackers with friends and family. That excitement, those pure emotions, is the past, like the afterglow of fancy rockets. Even if your Diwali veers diametrically away from the