The unending fire blasts shooting into the night sky, the incessant crackers waking up the whole neighborhood, were too fast in pace. They arrived and they departed. Three days erstwhile the same had happened; but today, the same festooned localities much lightened by virtue of those coruscating behemoth heights of concrete, had lost their charm. The lights were finally out. And what lay behind were those reminiscences which still lay nacreous in the night very explicably significant of their immortality. They might flow away with the thrust of time, its cruel wind, but shall remain fixed where they are and return next year once again with that same zest and verve.
The sky saw no blasts, the porches wore no light, and the streets were left empty except for those reminiscences that had illuminated everything one day. Silence had crept in and the houses stood like lifeless blocks of concrete only occupying their respective places. And so shall this silence remain and that “cacophony” shall return after some days elapse and the breathers regain their lost exuberance. For now, it is fact that Diwali has truly ended.
