HOW I WILL SPEND DIWALI 2011 ON MY OWN?

HOW I WILL SPEND DIWALI 2011 ON MY OWN Being on my own on D-Day is my idea of torture. But that's exactly what I'll be this year.
So I may as well have fun while I'm at it! by Pranav Dixit
PERHAPS THE only thing more depressing than being single and abandoned on Valentine's Day by a bunch of friends who are all seeing each other is being single and abandoned on Diwali day by a bunch of friends who have their plans for D-Day already cast in stone: some are going to while away the next few days/weeks in their hometowns (you lucky b******s!); others are planning shopping sprees, vacations, parties, gettogethers with families and what have you. I, on the other hand, am going to be breaking a tradition that I've never broken before in my life: I'm not going home this Diwali.
Instead, I'm going to be spending it right here in Delhi and all by myself. The reasons for this are varied and the whole story is more masaledar than a Bollywood movie (it involves two sets of angry parents, some botched-up train reservations, a fuming ex, a hospital visit, an irate boss, a looming deadline, and stars yours truly in the lead. I'll leave you to figure it out) but everything boils down to the same thing: as you light your diyas, don your kurtas, burst your crackers, somewhere, deep in the heart of the city, will be a lonely soul, alone on the terrace of his building, gazing up at your fireworks. (Nothing like some good old melodrama, eh?)
Okay, it's not really that bad. After all, we single-in-the-city types are pretty much used to going about life on our own when friends have their own plans ­ trust me, going mall-hopping with an iPod plugged into your ears is a luxury best enjoyed alone (my colleague Yashica ­ flip the page back, please ­ who paints the town red every other night despite being a single-in the-city type ­ vehemently disagrees). But even for a loner like me, spending the festival of lights alone in the city is not exactly a cheerful prospect.
On the other hand, it does lead to decidedly serendipitous things: I cleaned out ­ really, properly, thoroughly cleaned out ­ the bachelor pad after a LONG time. Saw off a grinning kadabiwala groaning under the weight of 17 old shirts, three pairs of ragged trousers that looked like they'd been used for shooting practice, a dusty old table with three broken legs and a room full of ageing newspapers. This was a historic moment.
I used the money obtained from selling off the scrap to buy crackers.
Taught grandpa how to use Skype so we can see each other on Diwali day. He is hooked and now spends much of his free time pinging his children in the US, much to their amusement and delight.
Went kurta-shopping and splurged on myself. It's amazing how much more you can buy when you don't have to budget for that pesky maasi and her brood of annoying little kids.
Shopping online for all other (nonpesky) relatives was a breeze and took less than an hour. Promised a delighted mom that I'd take a long holiday and come home for New Year's to make up for not showing up for Diwali (note to the boss: yeah, I did sneak a leave request in. But I was going to come and ask you anyway, I swear!) Listened to everyone back home telling me how much they would miss me this year. Basked in the attention for a long time.
Suddenly discovered, courtesy Facebook, that a couple of virtual friends are going to be in the city by themselves too ­ hooray! Food and drink, decks of cards, more boxes of fireworks than we can possibly burst in one night (everybody pooled in their own) and bunch of happy people delighted to have company ­ this promises to be a cracker of a Diwali!
Sometimes, it's the little things that make all the difference. :)