D iwali is light.

There is a bucket of water in front of me. In it are soaking a whole Three Bears family of mud diyas. Small diyas, big diyas, medium-sized diyas. My job is to drain the water from them and line them up on the roof so the late October sun can dry them off. Later, my sisters and I will retrieve them from the roof and Mummy will place them all on a tray and fill them carefully with oil. The cotton wool we have been massaging between our palms to produce grubby and wonky looking wicks will be placed in each one. The tray will be carried with great care so as not to spill the oil and individual diyas will be placed all around the house. Right after the Diwali puja, we will all be given candles and with the air of People Performing Very Important And Potentially Deadly Tasks

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