The nine nights are round the corner and the old dining table is pushed to an end of the sitting room so that the sturdy teapoy can be stacked on it.With a levelling piece of plywood all suitably covered up by the embroidered drape presented to my wife by her Fulbright guest student, the basic structure of the steps for the doll display has begun to emerge.I fetch a suitcase and a wooden plank to rest on it. And that completes an intermediate level between the elevated teapoy and the top of the dining table.Arrange another little stool and a cardboard box or two below the table and a five tier kolu stand has been improvised.All the dhothies which had been stashed away into the cupboard are brought out, washed and ironed so that they a spread on this structure and stitched or pinned together.

The time has come for the dolls in the trunk and plastic drum to be taken out, wiped and examined for breakage and then arranged in rows on the steps:Seetharaama, RaadhaakRshNa,Lakshmi, Parvathi and Saraswathi, GaNesh, the dusserah procession, the garuDasevai at Kanchi,the laughing Buddha,the Japanese girl, the Thanjaavoor doll, the little animals, the Eiffel tower and various other miniature dolls occupy their respective positions.Then starts the lighting.The christmas lamps from Boston and Hamburg and the fountain pump from my nephew are proudly installed, evoking memories of happy bygone days of friendship and kinship.

The lady of the house is busy making a rangoli pattern on the floor, arranging the oil lamps, the silverware for sandal paste, the betel leaf, the turmeric , vermilion and flowers to be offered to the visitors in the evening.The telephone starts ringing with invitations from friends and relatives living  in different parts of the city.

Our servant maid is surprised to find that she is the first one to be honoured with all this and she goes home to send four tiny tots who admire the display with exclamations like 'Super!'Then the neighbours in the apartment block and my sisters troop in one after another or sometimes together.Our little apartment is filled with the chatter, the giggles and other sounds of festivity.Our daughter calls from Boston and sings for the kolu over the internet.The webcam transmits images of the kolu across continents to my son and daughter.

These nine nights are truly an occasion for renewing and repairing friendships and for inviting relatives home.Apart from the religious overtone this to me is the point of all celebrations.