The Happy War

Diwali, Indian New year-

Crackerbomb festival, a sea of smoke and the Queen’s Necklace was the Ring of Fire; every bright-eyed kid a joyful mercenary in the Happy War of Diwali, shooting botlle-rockets over the hotels on Marine Drive, exploding sparkshowers raining on the cars and on the ocean, a sea of splattered cardboard shrapnel littering every square inch of concrete between happy families’ feet. And the trenches stretched as far as the eye can see in Bombay, right around the Queen’s neck; they’re trying to blow her head off, they’re trying to smoke out the New Year, scare the shit out of any demons looking for a way in. Scared the demons outta me. I moved stealthily through the Happy War with Pvts. Nooshin and Rebekah at my side. We ducked for cover from a dynamite row of mighty-mites a half a block long, made a run for it under a sudden sparkshower, explosions and flashes and squeals of glee all around us in the air as we reach no-man’s land, observing from the protection of a tree across the Drive, doing reconnaissance for how to navigate this New Year.