Where Light Never Goes Out

We have stumbled often — traded wisdom for noise, turned faith into display, forgotten the difference between brilliance and glitter. Yet even in our errors, a quiet rhythm survives — the instinct to fold hands before beginning, to touch the ground before taking flight. Nations have risen beside us and vanished like spoken breath. We stayed — not by force, but by remembering what was worth keeping. Our strength was never conquest; it was absorption — turning strangers into stories, rivals into recipes, ideas into festivals. Call it foolishness, or call it faith — but every year, when the sky grows tired, we place a lamp on the threshold as if to tell the universe: We are still here. Still flawed, still learning, but still alight. For light does not wait for perfection — it only asks for the courage to glow. And as long as one flame refuses to bow, night remains only a visitor. *Note: Its written on the occasion of Diwali, 2025. In these chaotic times, maybe festivals like Diwali, and their history could show us light, that we rightly deserve.*