Karthik wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his tired hands. He was a little boy, just a few weeks shy of ten. 

He, along with other kids his age, had to wake up before five every morning, travel in a bus, and start making firecrackers as soon as they reached the factory. They had to work until six in the evening, in a dark, dingy room, with no protection from the dangerous chemicals. 

It was 6 in the evening, and the sun had almost set, casting shadows on the already dimly lit factory. 

“That’s it for today,” said a deep voice, who seemed to be in charge.

Karthik got up, looking as though the entire life had drained out of him. 

There seemed to be no ray of hope left in his life. He trudged slowly to the bus that would take him back home, where he’d sleep, only to wake up to the same fate, the next day. 

Karthik sighed. In one week it would be Deepavali, but he wouldn’t be able to light lamps, burst firecrackers or eat a delicious murukku or mysurpak. He was the one making firecrackers, yet he couldn’t burst them. 

Suddenly, Karthik heard the faint sound of a flute being played. He walked towards the sweet sound. It seemed to get louder, and then stopped abruptly. 

“You’re just in time for the fireworks. Come and sit with us,” said a woman dressed in a beautiful saree, who seemed to have come out of nowhere. 

Karthik looked around, and saw that there were many men and women, boys and girls of his age, who were dressed in beautiful clothes. There was a man, with a peacock feather tucked in his hair, walking around with a plate of sweets and savories. Karthik’s mouth watered seeing it. His hand went towards it, and he was about to snatch a little piece of whatever he could get, when the man saw him. Karthik drew his hand away, with a guilty look on his face. 

“These are for everyone,” said the man, with a twinkle in his eyes. “You can take whatever you want.” 

Karthik slowly extended his hand back to the plate. A piece of mysurpak caught his eye, and he eagerly took it. It melted in his mouth, and he licked his lips in satisfaction.

Suddenly, he heard a huge ‘boom’. He looked up and saw colorful fireworks light up the air. He never knew that what he did everyday could produce something so beautiful. 

“Karthik, what are you doing?” He heard his friend, Ravi, call out his name. 

Karthik turned around and said, “I’m enjoying Deepavali.”

“Huh?” asked Ravi.

Karthik turned back, and found that the fireworks, sweets, and all the people were nowhere to be found. The place where he was standing was just a dark, empty wasteland now. 

Karthik shook his head in wonder. Had all of those wonderful things really happened, or had they been a figment of his imagination?

***

Author’s Note:

The fireworks factory in Sivakasi, Tamil Nadu, used to have child labour, especially in the 1970s. Little kids in nearby villages, below the age of fifteen, were forced to wake up before five in the morning, and were sent in buses to the fireworks factory. Without any safety equipment or protection, they were made to work twelve hours a day, and went back home late in the evening. Though laws were later made, declaring child labour illegal, it continues in many parts of India, depriving young children of a proper life.