ಬಾಲ್ಕನಿ ದೀಪಾವಳಿ

Nobody in Flat 4B could go home for Deepavali this year. Too many deadlines, too few train tickets, and one flight price that made everyone laugh out loud.

So they made a rule: if we can't go home, we bring home here. Everyone had to cook one dish their family makes for the festival. The results were mixed. Varsha's kosambari was perfect. Nikhil's holige looked like the map of a country that doesn't exist. Ayesha, who doesn't celebrate Deepavali at home, brought sheer khurma, "because a festival is a festival".

The balcony

At dusk they lined the tiny balcony with forty diyas from the shop downstairs. Someone video-called their ajji, who gave cooking notes for twenty minutes. The building's kids lit sparklers in the parking lot, and everyone pretended to be scared of the flowerpots.

Zabardast

At midnight, sitting on the floor with full plates and sparklers burnt down to wire, Varsha said it out loud: "This might be my favourite Deepavali." Nobody argued.

Zabardast is for the celebrations you build yourself: sweet, warm and golden, like a balcony full of diyas.