diwali is here,
and i can feel cracker roaring and typical smell of gunpowder and phosphate is tickling me.
but am i moved by it ??
do i really want to celebrate diwali this way ??
what is it, that i m missing, and missing big time ??
am i addicted to illu ??

yes, yes, a million times yes.
boy o boy !!!
this life is feels so empty without those countless night-outs..
those 20 days *read as nights* between DP(durga pooja) and diwali are definately most adventurous and fun filled extravaganza of spring semesters.
and now when i m more thn 1500 kms frm kharagpur,
it just feels that i m missing my part of fun.

i shall rather give a brief intro of illu for all non-kgpians, before proceeding any furthur,
"illu"..is a abbreviated form of illumination
which in fact is an inter-hostel competition organised at kgp, on diwali night.
here every hostel is suppose to make HUGE structures of diyas..
and by huge..i mean herculean sturctures in which more than 30k diyas are used.
and to give shape to this mammoth task..a work force of more thn 5000 man hrs (i m being amazingly modest with this assumption) is required.
no simple task to manage, mind you !!

and as d-day approaches, task seems more so un-finishable,
but then thts wat iitians are famous for,
they wait for water to rise not only upto nose, but way past thr hairs,
and then one gentle stroke to pull them out of world's mightiest tide, leave these ripples apart.

last few days..work is carried out on continous basis,
one can sniff oil burning at one of the corners,
a bunch of think-heads, determining and analyzing last moment contingencies,
another bunch of "shers", with all thr might, pulling metal wires, determined to thin a 14 guage wire to 16 guage.
few more, having fingers wrapped in leukoplast, holding loops and bent over to chatais,
yet another bunch, arranging mess tables, and all sort of "hammali" works.

all this rolling infront of my eyes as a slideshow,
but alas !! english fails miserably, when words try to describe emotions.
and this year,
i will be sitting in my filthy flat,
lighting up few crackers,
and feeling nostalgic, ad nausea.

p.s. sorry Mr. Admas, for voilating copyright rules,
but i feel like singing
"those were the best days of my life"

Labels: I, Memoirs