The Bawaji’s Guide To Surviving Diwali Without Exploding Like a Sutli Bomb

 

Diwali… Festival of Lights… the season of sweets, new clothes, good vibes and… trauma. Because while the rest of the country is lighting diyas and welcoming Lakshmi Mata, us Bawajis are crouched behind our sofas with cotton stuffed in our ears, wincing, “Oh Khodai! Not another laadi again (string bombs going off for what feels like a lifetime!)”

Truth is, we enjoy Diwali… we love the laddoos and kaju katlis and gift hampers from friends we forgot existed since last Diwali. We like the dazzling fairy lights that make even the dullest baugs look like a scene right out of Moulin Rouge. We love the festive chaos, the new beginnings, and of course, the discounts at Amazon and Nature’s Basket.

But there’s one thing that brings out our inner Rustomji Rottweiler every Diwali – the fatakras! Those booming, screeching, sanity-destroying crackers that arrive right when we’ve settled onto the couch with a warm choi and Netflix. One second you’re watching Queen Elizabeth rendering gut-wrenching dialogues in ‘The Crown’, and the next you’re watching your ceiling fan swing from the shockwave of a Sutli bomb that the colony’s over-eager Hormazd Oppenheimer decided to light at 1:00 am!

It starts small and sweet. A stray phuljhari here, a few innocent chakris spinning there. But soon, sweet turns savage. One sutli bomb goes off near the baug entrance and suddenly Piroja Aunty’s blood pressure is higher than her cholesterol. Jimmy Uncle spills his choi. Rustom Kaka’s three German Shepherds start barking like the end of days. And that’s just the warm-up round.

By 10:00 pm, it’s Fatakra World War III. There are bombs exploding in every direction, rockets firing into balconies, and someone’s enthusiastic teenager has accidentally set fire to Fali fuaji’s pajamas! The air smells like a toxic cocktail of sulphur and regret, and you’re wondering if you should evacuate or call NASA.

And just when you think it’s finally over… at 2:15 am – BOOM! Another Sutli bomb! Another mini-earthquake. Another round of swearing from every Parsi household across a five-kilometre radius. Behram Uncle growls from his balcony, shaking his fist at the sky, “You bloody ghelspappas think you are launching Chandrayaan or what?!?”

If there’s one group that suffers more than Bawajis during fatakra season, it’s our beloved dogs. Our spoilt, beloved pooches, who normally strut around the colony like they own the place, now tremble under the bed, eyes wide, tails tucked. Coco-the-cocker refuses to eat. Caesar-the-spitz hasn’t barked in 48 hours. And Pogo-the- pario (Indi breed), who once chased a cow down the lane, is now hiding behind the gas cylinder because a teenager lit a rocket sideways. The trauma is real, and we are miserable too because nothing breaks a Bawa heart faster than a sad dog. “My Pedro was such a brave dog before Diwali,” laments Khurshedji. “Now he looks at a pressure cooker and runs for cover.”

The Fatakra Survival Guide
Here’s some community-developed survival strategies that could rival those in disaster manuals:
1. Noise-Cancelling Head-phones: Originally invented for air travel, now repurposed for Diwali week. Essential for both – humans and their pet pooches.
2. Invest in Dog Treats: Distract your pooch with food. Works on humans too.
3. Escape Plans: Many Bawajis leave town during Diwali. “We’re going to Udvada for ‘spiritual reasons’,” they say. But we all know that aapro Homi is petrified of a chakri!
4. Cursing the Government: A timeless classic. No fatakra season is complete without Rustom Uncle loudly declaring, “This is why we need stricter noise laws!”
5. Invent New Swear Words: Ordinary curses won’t cut it. Get creative. Yelling ‘Fatakra-forto-feku’ or ‘Chakri-salgaavto-chakram!’ is a good start.

For most Bawajis, fatakras are a mix of childhood nostalgia and adult trauma. Sure, lighting a phuljari with cousins was magical… till your eardrums retired early, thanks to a Sutli bomb at 2:00 am that could launch satellites. Honestly, do we really need ‘joy; to sound like the Battle of Panipat? Still, come Diwali, we’ll be there – stuffing our faces with mithai while complaining like Olympic athletes. Because nothing unites Parsis quite like synchronized fatakra outrage!
Every colony has that one Bawa who threatens to boycott Diwali every year but ends up supervising the fatakra operations with the precision of a NASA launch director. “Next year,” declares Pesi Uncle every single year, “I’m moving to Golvad. Peaceful air, ripe chickoos and no fatakra within ten kilometres!” Yet, come next Diwali, there he is, perched on his balcony like a grumpy flamingo, choi in hand, firing verbal bombs louder than the Sutli ones below!

So, as the skies explode brighter than your cousin Freny’s jewellery, and the aroma of bhaji-par-eedu mingles with gunpowder, take a deep breath and laugh through the chaos. Coz no amount of noise or smoke can dull the Parsi festive spirit! And if you spot a frazzled Bawa pacing angrily around the Baug at midnight, remember, he’s just celebrating the season in classic Bawa style – half complaining, half enjoying and full-on drama! This Diwali, as Mumbai shakes, sparkles, chokes and sighs, let’s toast to our community’s annual Diwali chorus: “What the fatakra, yar!”