The morning after Diwali was always the longest.
​Diwali was usually in October, when the rains had decided to retreat from this terrifying land. This terrifying land, because the people couldn’t decide whether they wanted to be friends, or enemies. Whether they wanted to care about the land, or their enjoyment. Whether they should hope, or realise that it was all going to be the same, in the end.
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​October was when winter started to seep in, quite sneakily though, forming mists and dissipating before the Sun could catch them. But the morning after Diwali was the only one where the smog dared to form and rise with the sun.
​After all the cosy rituals in poor and wealthy homes, the grand aartis ​that took place along the banks of the Ganges, the bursting of crackers in dilapidated streets, and the lighting of diyas ​in remote huts, it is night. People are excited yet relieved, happy yet tired. The night had started off brighter than the day, with fairy lights hung artistically around windows and gates, and different pyro-techniques lighting up the ground. But gradually, as the moon rises, the lights slowly blend with the darkness, and twinkle out. Replacing them is the stunning contrast of silence, which would feel impossible a few hours ago.
​And so the people of the city doze peacefully. But one of them stands near the window, looking through the bars at the sunrise that only a handful would see.
​This time, dawn is grey, instead of the usual blue which fades out from the night. Instead, the smoke rises, the last of the oil in the lamps struggling to burn. A farmer in Punjab dreams of winter rain. The sky is dull, the ground is littered and there is little dew on the leaves. Another mother in Assam gets up to wake her children, only to remember that there is no school today. The sun rises, and the sunlight acknowledges the smog. A strict businessman in Kerala, the one to always wake up before dawn, decides to sleep a little more. The birds chirp lightly, basking in the sun, knowing that in the next few months, the sun would not be as generous.
​A girl in Mumbai still looks out her window, trying to understand the feeling of faith.