Of course, the bottom line is lives need to be saved and everything else is secondary. But as I exchange a flurry of let’s-have-a-drink-virtually/ make-sure-we-celebrate-when-all-this-is-over/ it-will-be-over-soon-right? Whatsapps with Priya, I realise what I’d been missing when it came to festivities like Diwali and the traditions behind them.

Celebrating Diwali brings me, and no doubt thousands of others, a broader sense of human connection, shown through a hundred little rituals done with people you love. I now realise why my friend Stef, a beautiful mix of Irish Peruvian, is almost militant about getting everyone to the pub on St Paddy’s Day or will trek halfway across London for an authentic (emphasis on authentic) Pisco Sour come Peruvian’s Independence Day. These celebrations are seasonalised check-ins with parts of you which can be easily forgotten when it’s not part of your every day.

So, like with most things this year, whilst it’s not the Diwali I planned, it’s still important I celebrate. My own traditions transform and evolve as I do but they are cultural tools in keeping my identity alive. Come Saturday, I’ll be cooking a curry using my Dad’s favourite recipe, introducing my boyfriend to his first Bollywood movie (my sofa managed to wangle an invite) and lighting some sparklers in the park. It’s my turn to adapt the traditions adapted for me and in doing so, invite a little light into our home - what could be more Diwali than that?

“Yes, my Diwali plans have changed but here’s why it’s more important than ever to celebrate”