On the morning of February 12, 2021, the silence outside my room was deafening as the lockdown approached its one-year anniversary. Though I could hear the tell-tale pop of firecrackers exploding from far away, it was a lonely sound that reverberated across the entire neighbourhood; a stark reminder that things wouldn’t, and couldn’t, remain the same anymore.
Growing up, I was used to the thundering sound of cymbals and drums blasting through my window—it was, much to my younger self’s consternation, a dreaded alarm clock that signalled the ushering of the new year and an abrupt end to my being able to sleep in during the New Year holidays.
A symbol of prosperity and protection against negative energies,
