Deepawali Reflections: A Festival of Light, Love and Longing

Homecoming to Vishal Nagar: A House That Holds History

We returned home to Vishal Nagar, Talab Tillo, Jammu, on the eve of Deepawali.

This was not just a home — it was a sanctuary, a place that has sheltered us for twenty-eight years since that dark winter of 1990, when we were forced to flee our homeland.

We, the exiled Kashmiri Pandits, had left behind our temples, our orchards and our ancestral houses — the echoes of our laughter in the courtyards of Srinagar, the fragrance of kahwa and burnt mustard oil lamps on winter nights.

We had arrived in Jammu with little more than memory and hope. But over the years, through the grace of God and the strength of family, we stitched together a new life — humble, yet sacred.

This home in Vishal Nagar became our little Kashmir in exile — its walls witnessing our festivals, its kitchen reviving the aroma of our traditional nadru yakhni, roth and paneer haakh and its rooms echoing with the laughter of our growing children.

The Day of Lights — Deepawali at Home….

The next morning, Deepawali began with devotion and renewed energy. The house shone in brightness — diyas flickering at every window, rangolis blooming on the floor and the sweet aroma of halwa, sugar candy and incense filling the air.

The most beautiful moment came when our little daughter Vasudha, with her innocent hands and radiant smile, made her first rangoli.

She poured colours gently, as though painting her dreams onto the earth — a sight that filled our hearts with pride and tenderness.

During Lakshmi Puja, we bowed together, thanking the Divine Mother not just for prosperity, but for the strength to endure, for keeping our family united through decades of displacement and for allowing love to grow even in the soil of longing.

As evening fell, the courtyard came alive. Sanchit, Munny, Sunny and Vasudha ran about with sursuris (sparklers), phuljhadis and small firecrackers.

Their laughter sparkled against the night sky, their eyes reflecting the flame of joy and for a moment, time blurred.

We saw in them the reflections of our younger selves — back in Srinagar, in the courtyards of Rainawari, Nai Sadak, Barbar Shah and Habba Kadal, where cousins gathered, lamps lined the verandas and the songs of Diwali echoed through the mountains.

Those memories returned like a whisper — of mothers decorating windows with clay lamps, fathers chanting shlokas and children running barefoot with sparklers in hand, their hearts unburdened and bright.

The Missing Voices — Love Across Distance

Yet, amid all the cheer, there was a gentle ache of absence.

We deeply missed our beloved dearest daughters, Nibidita, Rishika and Hunny; whose laughter and warmth complete our home.

We also missed Bhaiya and Nancy too, whose presence always brings us blessings and lightness to our hearts.

Though miles separated us, technology bridged the distance.

Through video calls, we exchanged smiles, greetings and blessings.

Their faces on the screen lit up our hearts; their voices, filled with affection, became part of our Diwali aarti.

Still, the emptiness lingered — a soft yearning that only physical closeness can heal.

A Prayer for Homecoming

As the night drew on and the last lamps flickered softly, I stood silently at the door, looking at our glowing home.

The lights, the laughter, the memories stitched together like pearls of faith.

And I whispered a prayer….

O Bhagwan Ji, my Lord, preserve the sanctity of our home, the strength of our family and the values that have held us through exile and time.

Let our children remember who they are and where they come from. And may the day come when we return to our sacred Kashmir; to rebuild, to replant, to relive the life that was once ours and still breathes within our memories.