Malaysian Diwali Deepavali

I left home happily with my parents and an uncle carrying two bags of fabrics and sarees across the highway. Now I’m sitting down here with nothing to show. It’s like this. Usually if we have time, it is an occasional practice here to send our festive clothes for altering, stitching and sewing in Malaysia. It is slightly cheaper, but it also gives us more excuse to visit the country twice and shop.

The heat was unbearable. I am guessing it is the haze. It was really terrible. But the sight of DVDs, punjabi suits, bangles just kept us going. When we reached our little tailor in his little shop I started having some doubts. His cupboards were overpouring with other bags with sarees in them and his two tailors looked a tad bit over worked. My mom asked if we could get the stitched works back by next week and he said in Tamil, “Yes, it’s possible. Don’t worry we don’t compromise on quality.”. That being said we proceeded to give him our measurements and the designs. Problem is, there were so many designs and sarees from us plus a few punjabi suits to be stitched from scratch and altered that I’m not sure if he correctly understood. So here I am, wondering if I did the right thing and if my judgement failed me. Dang. Well. Come next Friday I’m pretty sure I’ll be back here either whining my a$$ off or gushing uncontrollably. I am hoping it will be the latter.

Other than that, it was quite nice walking around. They have a couple of Indian supermarkets which ought to  make any Indian girl’s dreams come true. (Other than snagging a good maapillai ["husband" in Tamil], that is.) Bangles bangles, so many bangles. Bindis of all shapes, colours and sizes. Ahhhhhh. Heaven. Didn’t really buy much because we are saving it for next weekend when we collect our stuff. They have a bazaar in JB similar to the one we have here. Just that the designs are much better than I expected (which surprised me) and the prices don’t burn a hole in the pocket either. But my dad has banned me from anything remotely called a Punjabi Suit. Which is good judgement on his part. ;)

It was a perfect afternoon. Except. They played his favourite songs everywhere I went.

Festival of Lights.

How do you know that the Festival of Lights has descended?
Commercial and ethnic aromas fill the air.

Little colourful lights. Lighted peacocks in magnificent colours.
Frequent trips to Little India that fill the senses all at once.
The deep, crispy scent of Vadais, the appetite stimulating scents of South Indian meals.
The eye-catching, mouthwatering display of Indian sweets, arranged so temptingly.
The food. The kueh’s in a multitude of colours and shapes.
Beige almond mounds, bright red and orange coconut candy, the ever so familiar Kueh Tart (we insist on calling it this even though we know that Kueh and Tart mean the same thing, although it really is Pineapple Tart.)

And then. The suits.
The gorgeous, gorgeous suits.
In every possible colour and pattern.
The pastels. The brights.
The sarees. The plain, sweet ones. The glamourously embriodered fit-for-a-wedding ones.
The salwar kameezs. The chudidhars.
The bangles. Colourful. Glassy. As if every bangle was  made to suit its soulmate of a saree perfectly.

I like Diwali. Deepavali.
It’s here.
And I have already got my hands on some. ;)