This year’s Deepavali was chequered,
Except you know where—
Along the banks of a sacred river.
Whether the god descended or not
Must be a matter of debate.
Gods may be gods, but they have noses too;
He may have found the pollution
Too rich for his pulmonary flow.
And gods do not like as much noise
As their sponsoring humans do.
However muffled the crackers
This November, it is to be doubted
That the world here will end
With a whimper rather than a bang.
Eliot’s melancholy had a muted grace,
Our zest has a conquering tang.