Swami burst into the café last weekend, nearly tripping over a chair on his way to our usual table. Jigneshbhai and I could see that he was tense about something.
“Jigneshbhai!” he exclaimed, waving his phone like a man on a mission even while he took his seat opposite ours.
“You have to see this! Everyone in my building has gone all out for Diwali this year.”
Across the table, Jigneshbhai calmly stirred his coffee. He didn’t even look up. He just made his signature hmm sound — the one that meant, Go on, Swami. I’m listening… sort of.
I knew something was cooking underneath that calmness. Swami shoved his phone under Jigneshbhai’s nose.
“Look! These balcony decorations are stunning — fairy lights, giant rangolis, shiny lanterns! Even Sharmaji’s balcony looks like a five-star hotel lobby!”
Jigneshbhai finally took a slow sip of coffee.
“And now look at mine,” Swami continued dramatically, swiping to a photo. “Two rows of diyas. TWO! One at each end. That’s it. How will these humble lights stand in the face of all the jazzy decorations?”
Jigneshbhai peered at the screen, nodded once, and returned to his coffee. I peeked and agreed too. They were indeed quite austere.
“This is a disaster,” Swami declared, sinking into his chair. “Vidya says we must upgrade — more lights, bigger rangoli, maybe even a fog machine for effect!” he said in a panic-stricken tone. “But the shop near the apartment is sold out, and the online delivery slots are full till Sunday.”
I tried to hide my smile behind a bite of my muffin. Swami’s voice grew sadder.
“My balcony is going to win the competition for the dullest one in the building!”
I was going to ask Swami if there was any such competition but held myself back. Jigneshbhai finally looked up, his eyes calm and steady.
“Swami,” he said slowly, “lights outside don’t matter much if it’s dark inside.”
Swami blinked. Once. Twice. Even I tried to absorb it again.
“Eh? What does that even mean?” Swami’s facial expression seemed to ask.
Jigneshbhai took another sip of coffee and smiled that maddening, peaceful smile.
Swami stared at his phone again, scrolling between pictures of glowing balconies and his two lonely diyas — suddenly unsure whether to laugh, cry, or just order another coffee.
Jigneshbhai says Diwali isn’t about what others see. It’s about the quiet warmth that lights up our homes and our hearts, he says. And the wealthy old man in the sprawling bungalow says that the best Diwali glow comes from the inside.
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