Sarita looked at herself in the mirror yet again to see if she looked perfect for the evening. She had already changed her saree thrice and done her hair in four different ways, but each time she felt that something was not right. Though this time, she was finally satisfied with the way she looked. She took a closer look at her face and the wrinkles displeased her. She tried to hide them with some face powder. She didn’t want Ramesh to see those wrinkles. When he had left, her skin was flawless and she wanted him to see her just the way he had left her.

The house looked beautiful. She had worked hard to decorate it. Every corner was lit up with diyas and she had made a colorful rangoli at the door to welcome Ramesh. She went all over the house to look for Rohan, and found him right outside the door bursting crackers with his friends. Ramesh would be proud to see their son, she told herself. He was eleven years old now and a very smart boy.

After doing the Diwali pooja with her in laws, she sat at the door waiting for Ramesh. Seeing all the cheerful faces around her, her desire to see Ramesh increased manifold. She wanted to celebrate this day with him and Rohan. They had never celebrated Diwali together and she didn’t want to miss out on it this time as well.

First minutes passed and then hours did, but Ramesh did not come. Gradually, the sound of crackers fainted and the lights in the neighborhood grew dim. But Sarita waited patiently at the door. Rohan asked her a few times to come inside, but she didn’t pay any heed to him. The clock struck five in the morning, but she was still at the door, looking at the street without batting her eye lids even once. Rohan knew what was going to happen next.

After an hour, she came inside and, as Rohan had anticipated, started crying. With every passing minute, her cry grew louder and shriller. Her family had already called for the doctor. Once there, the doctor immediately gave her sedative and put her to sleep. After the doctor left, Rohan sat next to his mother and looked at her. She looked beautiful in her blue saree, jewelry and bun. Blue was Ramesh’s favorite color. She always wore blue on Diwali. Then, Rohan rested his head on her feet and recalled the story his grandparents had told him few years ago.

Sarita and Ramesh were childhood sweethearts. She was all of 21 and he was 26 when they got married. That year, Sarita was pregnant with Rohan and the due date was around Diwali. A day before Diwali, Ramesh, who was a supplier of spares for machineries, had to deliver a consignment himself as his drivers were on Diwali leave. Sarita didn’t want him to go as it was their first Diwali together and Rohan was due any time now. Ramesh promised that he will be back on Diwali night and would definitely be by her side when Rohan was born. But life had other plans for them. Ramesh couldn’t keep his promise. He never came back.

Next day news came that his truck had fallen off the cliff and his body could not be traced. On hearing the news, Sarita quietly went to her room and shut the door. She did not come out of the room even after being called several times by everyone. Finally they had to break open the door. She was lying unconscious on the floor. She was rushed immediately to the hospital and that is when Rohan was born.

From the time Rohan remembers, he had seen his mother live in denial. She never accepted Ramesh’s death. On other days she was quiet. She barely spoke. She did all her daily chores, but rarely interacted with anybody at all. He had hardly heard his mother’s voice in all these years.

But every year on Diwali, she would take Rohan to the market, buy him clothes and crackers, talk to him about his father, his school and his friends, buy new clothes for herself, decorate the house, cook good food, dress up and then wait for Ramesh. And when Ramesh would not turn up, she would become inconsolable and shed the tears that she had not shed on his death.

For everybody else Diwali brought joy and hope, but for Sarita and Rohan it brought grief and despair.