I'll be the first to admit that I don't really know a lot about Diwali. One of the most interesting things I didn't know before, but do now, is that there's a Diwali tradition in which a military delegation from India meets a Pakistani regiment to exchange sweets and take photos for the local papers. Sort of a formalized equivalent of enemy soldiers singing "Silent Night" across the trenches, but with more candy. Thanks to Simon for suggesting Diwali as a holiday song topic. I apologize if this is not what you had in mind.

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I stood at the border with brushed epaulets
I had shined my parade boots, I never forget
Every year at Diwali the local detachment
Meets the other side’s forces, it’s tradition, it’s fashion

We peace-make and handshake, swap sweets and give greetings
Mortal enemies again at the end of the meeting
Well this year Diwali it came round again
And I stood at attention and greeted the men

Their uniforms were khaki of a different shade
But otherwise they looked nearly almost the same
Cameras clicked and we posed for both sides’ TV stations
Look at us, everyone, we’re just two friendly nations

But just then a hand slipped a note into my pocket
I turned to see who made the clandestine deposit
His eyes implored me please don’t take a peek
’Til you’re back in your barracks and the men are asleep

I stared and you’ll think me conceited, I’m guessing,
When I tell you my first thought was his note was confessing
His longing for me over on my side of the border
Which would be odd as we’d first met a few moments before, so

I quickly dismissed this, my ego was tripping
But I admit I was into this illicit note-slipping
So I nodded consent and climbed into the Jeep
Imagining what else this letter could be

As we drove back to the base, I wondered if all the drama
Related to some long tragic family saga
I imagined his mother, growing older and frail
Telling her only son of her long-secret tale

She was in love with a young man and before Partition
They’d whisper and plot out their hidden decision
To run away to the hills and marry one day
Despite anything parents or grandparents might say

But history never did listen to orders
And soon they were driven apart by a border
And seventy years now divided them too
But her last wish was to tell him, darling I still love you

I felt certain this must be the gist of the history
Like a sad epic novel by Rushdie or Mistry
So when we returned to the barracks I declined in partaking
In the feasts and festivities my colleagues were making

I retired to my bunk and checked no one was around
As the fireworks lit up the streets of the town
I unfolded the note as I lay on my bed
In a young man’s handwriting this is what it said:

A thousand apologies for this secrecy
But I must be so careful the others don’t see me
Please don’t be angry, this isn’t a joke
I need a friend to find me my brand of smokes

They’ve stopped selling them here, and I know it sounds terrible
But it’s the only thing making the military bearable
I’ve enclosed enough of your rupees for a carton, can you get it?
I’ll find a way to repay you, I’ll be forever indebted.

At first I was disappointed and I had some regrets
That all he wanted was contraband cigarettes
But then I remembered that over on his side
They make those amazing desserts with pistachios inside

Now Diwali’s more jolly, the same old ceremony
Doesn’t seem quite so empty or pointless or phoney
And my enemy-friend and I hide our deceit
Meeting monthly in moonlight to swap smokes for sweets