From a Small Clay Lamp

My dearest Emma,

I am made of clay and I cost almost nothing and there are hundreds of me outside tonight, all down the street, all along the walls and the steps and the edges of the roof. Somebody in this house lit me and set me down carefully, and I saw who it was: EMMA.

I want to be honest with you about how small I am, Emma. On my own I light up about as far as your hand. That is it. That is the whole of what one diya can do. If it were only me out here, the dark would win easily and nobody would even notice I was lit.

But go outside and look down the street. Look at what all of us are doing together. Every house has done the same small pointless-looking thing at the same time, and the result is that the entire road is glowing and you can see faces in it. Not one of us is bright. All of us, at once, are.

That is the whole festival and it is the reason I am on a step instead of on a table. Diwali is not about your house being bright inside. It is about your doorway being bright outside, where other people walk.

Shubh Deepavali,
from a very small light on your step —

The Diya

One Lamp Among Thousands