Sangeetachandrathoughts

I don’t light diyas for tradition alone.

I light them because some days

my chest feels like an unlit street,

and I need proof that small flames still exist.

I clean not just the house —

I scrub the corners of old grudges,

wash the dust off tired friendships,

and give them a place back at my table.

I share sweets

to remind myself and others

that life has not gone completely bitter,

even if some months tasted like iron.

I pray —

not for money or miracles —

but that I may wake tomorrow

a little kinder than I was yesterday.

And when the fireworks end

and the town falls quiet,

I hold one truth like a warm cup in my hands:

we celebrate not because life is perfect,

but because we still have the courage

to hope in spite of it.

-Sangeeta