Dashain is a dud in Kathman­du. The national capital and its surroundings, which oth­erwise pack in at least three mil­lion souls, is nearly empty during (and immediately after) the 10 days of Dashain. People leave for their ancestral homes to celebrate with their loved ones. Or, increasingly, the whole family goes abroad, to get an exotic taste of Nepal’s biggest festival. It is during the five days of Tihar, when most deserters have come back to light up their homes and welcome Laxmi, the goddess of wealth, that the valley comes alive. There is a tradition of worship­ping different animals during Tihar. Cows, for instance, are worshipped during Laxmi Puja, the third day of the festival, as an incarnation of Laxmi, even though this is a dying tradition; for one, cows are hard to find. We also worship crows, dogs and oxen. In the much-publicized new Nepal, isn’t it right that the ani­mals also have their days?

Likewise, every nook and cranny of one’s dwelling is lit up, mostly with string-lights these days. Per­haps some may miss the sound of the crackers that used to be so ubiquitous during Tihar. The police have done a rather efficient job of outlawing their use. Yet that alone has not been enough to dampen the festive spirit.

Consider the age-old tradition of deusi-bhailo, our own version of Halloween’s trick-or-treat. The old songs used for deusi and bhailo have been given clever twists and made more ‘modern’. Moreover, these days, the youngsters mostly prefer cash over Tihar goodies like sel-roti as their ‘treat’. In other words, our celebration of Tihar is changing in line with the constant social changes we witness all around us.

Kathmanduites are so used to complaining about bad roads and foul air and the rotten government, they hardly take time to reflect on the good in their lives. Tihar, which marks the victory of light over dark­ness, is thus also a time to put on our optimistic caps.

Tihar is perhaps the right time for our politicians and bureaucrats to renew their commitment to pub­lic service. An occasion for pen­ny-pinching businessmen to be a lit­tle less stingy, for spendthrift young­sters to be a little more respectful of money, and for everyone to lighten up. Let there be light.