Aditya Juvekar

For 22 years, I experienced the magic of Diwali as a middle-class Maharashtrian child growing up in the Chawl system at Girgoan. Those were the days when Diwali wasn't just a festival; it was a full-blown celebration that embraced our entire community. The Chawl, with its tightly-knit houses, was our world, and Diwali turned it into a glowing, bustling neighborhood of togetherness. One of the most cherished memories of my childhood Diwali in our chawl was the early morning ritual of Diwali Pahaat. Waking up at 5:30 AM was a big task for us as children, but at the same time, it was something I looked forward to with pure excitement. The entire chawl seemed to wake up together as if the whole world was united in celebrating the first light of Diwali. The chill in the air was refreshing, almost as if the morning itself was dressed for the festival. I remember the faint but unmistakable scent of Agarbattis (incense sticks) mixing with the lingering smoke from the crackers we had burst