96. festival
was stunned but heaved a sigh of relief at the strange request and granted it at
once. He was afraid that the old woman might change her mind. This was hardly
a thing to think twice about. Everyone talked at length about this odd request—in
the marketplaces, in their homes, and in the palace. Wise men shook their heads
perplexed, not understanding what it would fetch the old woman.
Divali was near, and soon the day dawned. People were told that not a single
light should be seen, or else they would be punished with death—even the king’s
palace stood in total darkness as the sun went down. There was pitch darkness
everywhere, and only one diya twinkled in the old woman’s house, far away in
a corner of the landscape. The old woman just did what she was used to doing
all her life during Divali, and lit only one diya, being too poor to afford any
more.
At the stroke of midnight, Lakshmiji came down from the heavens in her glit-
tering clothes so that they would shine all the more in the beautiful lights of the
houses and palaces that she would visit. She loved a lot of light and gaiety, and so
she visited those houses that were bright and shining. Today she was perplexed,
for she could hardly move without stumbling against a pillar or post and nearly fell
at several places. She was so miserable that she scanned the horizon for some light
somewhere, and then she saw the little glimmer from the old woman’s hut. She
made a dash for it, because by now she was completely desperate.
Inside her hut, the old woman had bolted the door and had sat down to do her
puja with her old, broken earthen utensils. Soon she saw a very bewildered and
desperate-looking tiny little man, who came running to her side in great agitation,
shouting, “Let me out, let me out, old woman. I cannot stand this light, I must get
out at once. I am used to darkness and dinginess and dampness. I could stay but
for this light.”
The old woman gave him one look and asked, “Who are you, you funny-
looking tiny man?”
“I am Diladdar (Absolutely Down and Out One), companion of the very
poor,” replied the old man. The old woman spoke to him thus: “You cannot leave
me, Diladdar. You have been my constant companion year after year, and I cannot
let you go. I will not allow you to go.”
“O woman, have pity on me. I will die in this illuminated house. I am one who
can only live in darkness and dirt, and not in light and cleanliness. There is lovely
darkness all over the town tonight. Please, please, open the door.”
Outside Lakshmiji was standing at the door and pleading in her lovely soft voice,
“Sweet lady, I am distressed. Please show me the light and let me in—yours is the
only house in which I can feel comfortable and happy. I cannot see the other houses.
I cannot even see my own feet, and I am frightened. Please, please, let me in.” The
