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Bheem was an amazing man. Ram knew that. So he wasn't surprised when others pulled him away from him the moment they got out for the Diwali celebrations.
The whole sky acted as a canvas, painted by the diyas and lights that lit it up. Ram's village didn't celebrate too often, but this was their first Diwali after Ram had completed his mission, so they'd decked every door with diyas of all colors and shapes and rangolis that extended far beyond their given area.
Bheem had been so excited when stepping out of their shared house. They'd been staying here for about 3 months, and the next month they were set to go to Bheem's tribe to give them the training needed in protecting themselves.
Ram stared at his village, lost in the synthetic constellations. He wasn't sad, per se, after all, he was getting to see his people rejoice and lose themselves in glee. He only wished Bheem were here right beside him.
But it was okay. Ram wasn't the most social person, he knew that. The people of the village respected them immensely, but they didn't see him as someone to sit and laugh with.
Bheem on the other hand, everyone adored to death. And why wouldn't they? He truly was a deity cast on earth to brighten up whoever came across him.
He sat down in the middle of the village. Everyone was busy with each other, mingling about and weaving a pattern Ram was yet to join.
Stalls of all kinds had been set up in a circular manner. The traders and merchants from the nearby cities had come over and filled the area in all hues of every color imaginable. Many he couldn’t even decipher under the night.
Sita had earlier given him four packets of rangoli powder. Red, yellow, white, and blue.
There wasn't much, but he'd have to make do. Ram wasn't particularly good at making rangoli, and the last time he'd picked up the fine powder was almost two decades ago now.
But he still remembered some of the things his Amma had told him, the memories bittersweet. They stung as they came but felt more like medicine rather than salt on an open wound.
"You have to stop treating your past like an infection Bangaram," Bheem had once told him. "It's a part of you, it will always be. The pain only subsides when given the time to heal."
Ram had taken that advice. He hadn't tried to fight any memories lately. They'd still hurt, but the more they came the lesser he felt the need to push them away. Nowadays more and more were resurfacing, and though they bit, he was immensely grateful for them.
Now when he closed his eyes late and night and thought of his mother, she greeted him with her calm and warmth, a gentle smile gracing her lips. Her hair had been braided hastily.
No longer did he see the ghost, just the human she was.
Ram's hand worked mindlessly as the other one supported his weight. The earth was cold under his folded legs, and he felt a shiver travel up his spine. Winter was coming sooner than he’d thought.
At first, he laid down the white border, keeping in mind the amount of colored powder he had to not make the radius too big.
He could thin it out and make the rangoli bigger, but Amma always said a colorful rangoli was better than a bigger one.
He wondered what Bheem was doing. Probably busy dealing with everyone that surrounded him. Ram wasn't a loner. Okay, maybe he was. Still, he was missing the other’s warm smile.
He’d so looked forward to seeing the artificial stars reflected in his eyes. This was supposed to be a happy festival, why then did he feel a knot forming in his throat?
Was he going to be alone today?
Ram didn’t even know where these emotions were coming from, after all, he wasn’t the one who cared the most about festivals.
“Anna!” Bheem shouted, calling him over to look at a confectioner’s stall. It was overflowing with all kinds of sweets, and a fresh batch of Jalebi was being made over the giant pan placed over the stove.
Bheem was practically jumping up and down, eagerly watching them being made as if it would quicken the process. “Kitne chahiye?” (How many do you want?) Ram asked with a grin plastering his face, catching the virus that was Bheem’s joy.
Bheem looked up at him with bright eyes and his cheeks pushed up in the sweetest smile.
Ram had ended up buying him the whole batch, even as Bheem fussed over him paying for the entirety and not splitting the bill.
Yes, Ram didn’t care the most for festivals, but he did care for Bheem. And it felt like a missed opportunity.
The rangoli was almost done, he just needed to fill up the last ring with the little red powder he had left. By now his hands were colored with hues of greens, oranges, and purples. Where all the colors had mixed with each other to form new ones.
He stared at them absentmindedly, lost in his own maze.
"Ram!" A voice called, too familiar to not be calling to him. He jerked up to see Bheem standing before him. Hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, wide shoulders going up and down.
Ram's breath hitched, and for a second he just sat there, blinking away the wetness that's formed over his eyes.
Then he managed to push off the ground and wrap his arms around the other man, which prompted him to blush profusely. They weren't the ones to display heavy affection in public.
But how could he control himself when Bheem's hair was as floofy as ever, and his eyes glinted just how he imagined them to.
"Where have you been Bangaram? I've been looking for you for sometime." His words were muffled by Ram's shoulder, as he finally caught his breath and hugged him back just as tight. Ram sighed into him, "the others snatched you away from me," he mumbled.
Bheem seemed to sag a bit, "I'm sorry I left you alone," he said. "No, it wasn't your fault you shouldn't apologize." Ram replied.
But his liver pulled back, a fierce look in his eyes, "no, it isn't. Come on, I'll make it up to you," he said, pointing at something behind himself. Ram leaned over to find an outline of game shops. Some were of popping balloons with darts, some about hitting the pause button at the right time to win the stuffed toys caged inside.
Ram raised an eye brow, "oh yeah? Let's see how many you can get." He couldn't stop a grin from coming onto his face.
Bheem was grinning too, and he intertwined his fingers and pulled him in their direction. But then he suddenly stopped and turned around, eyes cast down. Ram frowned in confusion, until he saw Bheem was staring at the not-too-bad rangoli he's made.
"That is beautiful," He said, doe-eyes wide as if they already weren't big enough. Ram sometimes imagined himself diving in their honey.
Then he looked at the packets that surrounded it, and Ram's stained hands. He smiled, then gently put both of Ram's hands on his cheeks. "You did such a good job Bangaram," He whispered, and Ram felt his cheeks burn.
"An amazing job. I love the colors," he went on, and Ram looked down at the ground. "Alright, you've buttered me enough. Now come on," he retorted, pulling Bheem along to the direction of the stalls.
"It's Diwali, not Holi," He laughed, seeing how the colors from his own hand had transferred onto Bheem's cheeks. "It might as well be Janmashtmi. As long as you're here I'd enjoy it just the same."
If it was possible for Ram's cheeks to be any redder, he'd start resembling a tomato.
Maybe there was a jump in his step, only because he'd get to spend tonight with Bheem afterall.
.・✫・゜・。.
Turns out Bheem was serious about the prizes. By the time they were done with all of them, Bheem's pockets were empty of money (he'd insisted on buying all the tickets, and unless Ram had the courage to throw a fit, he'd have to heed) and full of little trinkets.
His arms were occupied by bags filled with anything and everything. Diyas, stuffed toys, small dolls, and little jars of candies.
And a little locket in the shape of a heart. It was made of wood and had patterns carved over it. Ram had been clutching on to that one, until Bheem had momentarily put the bags down and put it on him.
The brush of his fingers against his neck felt so warm, so comforting. If only he could bottle that feeling and get drunk on it tonight. And every night that follows.
They reached to where Ram had made the rangoli earlier, and suddenly Bheem stopped. He dropped the bags once again then took off in search of something. "Wait here! I will be back in two minutes!"
Ram nodded and watched him approach a stall selling Diwali decorations. He was buying something, Ram realised.
Bheem returned with a small bottle of oil and a packet of cotton wicks. Ram furrowed his eyebrows and looked at hum in confusion.
Bheem just grinned, then sat down, pulling Ram along with him. He filled the diyas will oil and a wick for each, then placed them around his rangoli.
"Don't they brighten it up?" He asked, pulling a matchbox out of his pocket.
Ram nodded, mouth replicating the sweet smile on the other's face. "Amma used to say the same." He remarked out of nowhere.
He remembered her sitting out on the front door, placing them under the stars. Baba handing them over to her.
He smiled at the memory, lost in its peace. "I'm sure she must have loved your rangolis." Came Bheem's voice, snapping him out of his reverie.
He laughed, "they were horrible, but she did love them."
Bheem's eyes were shining with so much love Ram felt like he couldn't breathe. But they also shone with pride. And he felt like a million stars had just been born.
Good job Ram. They seemed to say.
They ended the night by watching the fireworks paint the night sky. Making patterns of wonderful colors as the sound of their blasts and people's shouts of joy filled the air.
Him and Bheem hadn't bought any firecrackers. Simply because Bheem didn't feel right using them. But they still stood and watched them burst all the same. Pointing at the brightest ones.
"Let's make a wish," Bheem said. "They're fireworks not shooting stars," Ram laughed.
The other man shrugged, "they act the same," he countered, a smile on his face because he knew Ram would always agree.
They closed their eyes and wished. Except Ram wasn't making a wish, but thanking someone instead.
I can't fix my past, but thank you for for teaching me how to fix how I look at it, Bheem.
Maybe he should have told the same to the man standing beside him. But the way Bheem's hand tightened around his, he had a feeling he already knew.