Firework memory
Last Thursday was Guy Fawkes' Night here in England. The night commemorates the arrest of Guy Fawkes, an English Catholic who was part of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, the seat of the English Protestant rulership, with gunpowder. Since then, it's tradition to light bonfires and fire fireworks into the sky/neighbors' backyard.
As I was walking back home on Thursday night, I saw the colorful fireworks (albeit nothing as grand as the ones I've seen in the Dubai Shopping Festival). The strong smell of gunpowder transported me back 17 years to the verandah of our home in Nagpur, India. I have vague memories of a Diwali celebration we had at our place in Nagpur when I was little (probably about four years old). There were diyas (mud lamps) outside the house. We had some fireworks like phuljhadi (sparkly sticks) and anaar (pomegrenate) and fire crackers that had scared Elsa the dog away. The smell of gunpowder had been strong in the air.
So I reached my door, dreaming of that night at home in India. I turned the key and let myself in and it didn't smell of gunpowder anymore.
As I was walking back home on Thursday night, I saw the colorful fireworks (albeit nothing as grand as the ones I've seen in the Dubai Shopping Festival). The strong smell of gunpowder transported me back 17 years to the verandah of our home in Nagpur, India. I have vague memories of a Diwali celebration we had at our place in Nagpur when I was little (probably about four years old). There were diyas (mud lamps) outside the house. We had some fireworks like phuljhadi (sparkly sticks) and anaar (pomegrenate) and fire crackers that had scared Elsa the dog away. The smell of gunpowder had been strong in the air.
So I reached my door, dreaming of that night at home in India. I turned the key and let myself in and it didn't smell of gunpowder anymore.