"Diwali Dawns"

Last night Diwali celebrations kicked off here in Goa. Diwali is sort of like an Indian Christmas. It's their biggest festival of the year, and they consider the new year to start today. It is tradition to wear newly purchased clothes and to get up at 4am and let off firecrackers.

Lying in bed early this morning we jumped in alarm as a flurry of firecrackers could be heard going off around us. And just now, Sandkelp, the landlords 13 year old son, shyly brought over a wrapped box of sweets for Dumpie...aw bless...

Last night Eggie's school had a Diwali celebration which we all attended. Dumpie had been coerced into attending, decked out in his matching Balinese two piece comedy Batik shorts and top set on the condition that there would be cake and games there (ALL his clothes are dirty...he had four separate 'accidents' yesterday because he was sick).

The students had decorated the floor of their outdoor classroom with coloured sand, depicting various pictures and designs. Little Egg had made something that resembled four red and green flowers and was ever so proud of his work. He also glowingly showed off his homemade lantern to us. (The children in his Steiner-led classroom may not be able to necessarily read and write at his age, but gosh darn it they can craft themselves silly!).

I was fairly exhausted having been up most of the previous night with Dumpie who had been suffering from a fever. When i had eventually managed to get back to sleep, the horrific 'Cujo Cacophany' which kicked off around 4am or so, was enough to ruin what was left of the night. It basically sounded like we'd been delivered straight down into dog hell for all eternity (well 45 minutes of what sounded like dozens of freaked out snarling dogs could scare anyone...especially when they're right outside your front door!)

So I spend most of my time off to one side, taking pictures, and watching Eggie proudly announce to all and sundry that his Dada was a 'great drummer' and thus would likely win the drumming game (he didn't). Then when the 'Smartie Game' started up between the parents (using a straw and some serious sucking action you had to transfer smarties from one bowl to another fast as you could) Eggie yelled out, "Can my Dad have a practice first?" Obviously he was a bit tense about his Dada performing well after his surprising loss in the drumming game earlier.

Alas the husband, though in possession of a most lovely and substantial pair of lips, was unable to keep up with the fellow next to him, who undoubtedly used the magical power from his long beaded hair piece (a 'rat's tail' I believe it's called) to harness the bionic sucking skill needed to win the game.

When snack time came, all parents having been asked to contribute, Egg made clear to all and sundry his father's generosity by declaring, "Would anyone like one of the twenty four samosas my Dada brought?"

Haha...

At any rate, it was a lovely evening, made miserable only by the random expelling of rather putrid gas a la Dumps (tummy troubles) who hardly left my lap all night, thereby leading fellow parents who had the misfortune to stop and chat, to assume that it was I who was responsible for such pungant flatulence. Great.

And of course it poured down with rain just as we were about to leave. So we arrived home soaked, having been accosted by little bands of children in the road who improvised roadblocks to beg for money for Diwali. The husband had to empty out his pockets for small change instead of just roaring through when we discovered Sandkelp the neighbour boy made up one particular band of ruffians.

Diwali however, is not without meaning for us.

For one, it's the most auspicious day to begin a new business venture or open your store. So fingers crossed that our beach finally gets up and properly running this week. The four on an Enfield thing is proving a bit challenging this time around - whether because the boys have grown that little bit bigger, or because I have yet to master the graceful dismount which entails peeling my moist thighs off the leather seat like velcro whilst lifting my leg high enough to get over the back 'bitch pad' rail, whilst not losing a grip on Dumpie who is in my arms. Add to that the husbands mega-black-bag he insists on carting around - and my own - and you see that we're nearing 'ten clowns stuffed in a car'
territory. Time to get back to good ol' walking I'm afraid.

The other thing is that Eggie is off school all next week. This is going to present a problem. Not only is Dumpie going to put up a fight every single day about having to go to 'stool' when Eggie doesn't have to, but the husband and I are going to have to try and find new and interesting ways to amuse our six year old each and every day (thank goodness for Nintendo...!)

And the husband has just announced that in celebration of Diwali (huh?) he's going to go out this morning and buy that guitar he's been lusting after. Never mind that we have no place to store it, can not take it back home, and it's likely to be used in combat at some point between Egg and Dumps.

As for me? Well I reckon I could get into the spirit of things if i tried...like stroll down the road and avail myself of a new outfit in honour of the day...after all "when in Rome" and all that :)