"Here, take dis piece of cotton and watch me," she said as she picked a piece off from the main cotton ball halfway hidden in an old brown paper bag. The cotton ball seemed to have been in the brown paper bag for more than a year, given all the creases on the bag. Then she dipped her two fore fingers in an old enamel cup with coconut oil. As she did it, I followed her movement. Then she rubbed the coconut oil on her hand and placed the piece of cotton on her palms and began rubbing them together. Like a little follow fashion, I did the same, amazed at how the cotton began to transform into a wick as I rubbed it between my palms.
"Doh rub it too hard cause it will break in two. Tak yuh time. Easy. See," she said as she lifted her wick, just about a finger length long, showing me the first wick. I looked at mine, which didn't seem as neat as her own. It was fat at one end and skinny at the other. Seeing how puzzled I looked at my wick, she continued as she stroked my hair, "Doh worry, yuh have plenty more to make. Yuh will get it but that one still good too." I must have been about five-years-old, sitting with my Agie on the backsteps of our house the day before Divali making wicks for our deyas. This was my first real memory of Divali and lighting my deya.
"We make nine wick fus and den de rest. De nine wick will be for puja deyas tomorrow. De rest will light all de other deyas in de yard," she turned to me and said, as she placed another piece of cotton into my hands. "Why de coconut oil Agie?" I asked. Still rolling her wick in the palm of her hands she said with a smile, "Chile yuh ask meh so so much questions. Yuh go be a bright chile when yuh grow up if yuh keep askin questions. "Well chile, it does keep de wick together. If not de wick does break quick quick."
With the coconut oil smell in the air now, we continued making our wicks for about another half an hour, each producing at least five wicks per minute. Then she stopped suddenly and said, "Come chile, we have to hurry, we have to light de deeya in front. It gettin close to six o'clock." I was all excited following her to the front of the house, wondering if she would actually let me light the deya. I had watched my elder sisters do it daily. Now I was five and was excited that had finally arrived. At the front of our house, under the Julie mango tree, was our deya place. It was a small mold of dirt freshly leepayed earlier in the day.
Right at the back of the mold was a tulsie plant and a genda plant, which served as the prop for a small wooden picture frame of a Mother Lakshmi's picture. I could still smell the gobar on the mold. There my Agie placed a new deeya on the mold. Then she looked at me and said, "Go back an get yuh orhini ah go wait fuh yuh." I hurried back into the house and came back in what must have been a minute or two, but seemed like an hour. I ran back to where my Agie was waiting, having had time to pick two gendar flowers. "Fus thing, when yuh lightin yuh deeya, always remember yuh orhini, respect, respect," she said, as she fixed her own on her head. And although mine was set on my head, held in place by a clip, Agie did her part by fixing it again.
"Yuh ready, yuh know wha to do?" she asked as she moved aside for me to stoop in front of the deeya mold. I shook my head and said, "Yes Agie, I see meh sista an them do it all de time." Still in disbelieve that I was getting to light my first deeya, I continued, "Agie yuh really makin meh do it today?" "Yes, chile, I think yuh ready," my Agie answered, and with her hand, gestured for me to proceed. I placed the wick into the deeya, opened the coconut oil bottle and slowly poured into the deeya. I must have stopped about two times to look at the deeya, to ensure that I did not over fill it. I took the end of the wick and dipped it lightly in the oil to moisten the tip.
I asked my Agie for the matches, lit one, and quickly put one hand in front of the wick and brought my other hand with the lighted match to the deeya. Within a second it was done. I had lit my first deeya. The flame was strong, a nice glow of yellow and red. I looked at my Agie for her approval and she just smiled back at me. That was all I needed to tell me I had done well. She handed me the genda flower and I clasped my hands together and began to recite, "Om Siddhi Buddhi." When I was finished I put the genda flower in front of Laskhmi Mata's picture, took my aarti from the deeya and passed it over my head and body. My Agie did the same.
My first deya
We walked back to the house together with me holding her skirt. "Remember to light yuh deya every day. Remind yuh sista and dem. Tomorrow we go have plenty plenty more to light," she said. "Remember, when lighting yuh deya remember it is an offering to God. Doh rush. See how yuh tak yuh time. Tak yuh time, from makin de wick, to gettin yuh orhini, to picking yuh flowers, to putting de oil. "Chile yuh listen. Remember too yuh have to leepay de deya place every odda month. Yuh did all dis when yuh light yuh fus deeya, so remember all dis for meh." I looked up and her and shook my head up and down in affirmation.
Today, I reflect on this memory of how I lit my first deeya. So much has changed in 37 years. There are ready made wicks. No more smell of coconut oil in making wicks. No more rubbing your hands together to make them. There are ready made deya huts, so gone are the days of leepaying a hut. And yes, there are wax deyas now so who needs to take their time in pouring coconut oil? What about an orhini? Well, it's but a scarf now. My Agie is no longer here but I still remember how she guided me and what she told me when I lit my first deya.
And guess what? For all the modern ways of deya lighting today, I still prefer and practice the good old fashion Agie's way. Now my niece and nephews are of age. It's my turn now to guide them. "Remember it is an offering to God, Lakshmi Mata." Shubh Divali to all.
