Shared Moments -I

It was the morning of Dussehra, and Yukta stood by the window, watching the first rays of sunlight filter through the trees. The festive air was filled with anticipation, but she was more focused on helping her seven-year-old son, Aarav, prepare for the day. Aarav was neurodiverse, with a brilliant mind but a unique way of interacting with the world. This made festivals like Dussehra a challenge, but Yukta wanted him to experience the joy and meaning of the celebration in a way that felt comfortable for him.

As she gently combed his hair, she pulled out a small, golden crown and placed it on his head. Aarav's eyes lit up as he touched the crown, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns.

"Do you know why we wear this today?" Yukta asked softly.

Aarav looked at her, his curiosity piqued.

"Today is Dussehra," she continued. "It’s the day we celebrate the victory of good over evil. In the great story of the Ramayana, Lord Ram, a brave and kind prince, fought and defeated the evil king Ravana. It shows us that even when things seem difficult or scary, good will always find a way to win."

Aarav nodded, but she knew from his expression that he was still trying to grasp the concept. So she knelt down beside him, holding his small hands in hers.

"Remember when you solve a puzzle, and it feels hard at first?" she asked. "But you keep trying, and in the end, you figure it out. That’s like Lord Ram. He kept trying, with the help of his friends, and in the end, he did something very brave. Dussehra reminds us to keep going, to be kind, and that even the hardest battles can be won."

Aarav smiled now, understanding the story in his own way. Yukta dressed him in a beautiful white kurta, decorated with small gold designs, and tied a small red cloth around his waist. She could see how much he loved the feel of the soft fabric and the sparkle of the gold.

Soon, it was time to go outside. The streets were filled with laughter and colors. Huge effigies of Ravana, with his ten heads towering above the crowds, were ready to be set on fire. The air buzzed with excitement. Yukta held Aarav’s hand as they walked through the crowd, keeping close so that the noises and the overwhelming energy didn’t make him uncomfortable.

She found a quieter spot where they could watch the celebrations without being too close. As the effigies burst into flames, Aarav's eyes widened with wonder. 

"Look, Aarav," she said, pointing to the burning figures. "That’s Ravana. When we burn him, it’s like saying goodbye to all the bad things in the world. It’s a reminder that goodness always wins."

Aarav stayed quiet for a moment, watching the flames dance in the distance. Then, with a soft voice, he asked, "Like when I’m scared, and you help me feel better?"

Yukta’s heart swelled with pride and love. "Yes, just like that," she whispered, hugging him gently.

The celebration around them continued, with drums beating, children laughing, and fireworks bursting into the sky. But for Yukta, the real victory was in that quiet moment, where her son had grasped the essence of Dussehra in a way that was uniquely his. 

They returned home later, the air still filled with the echoes of celebration, but in their hearts, there was a quiet joy—a celebration of their own, one of love, understanding, and the small victories that make life so meaningful.