We were the only ones to have this perspective on the incredible light show that lit up the lake and gallery.

Sally and I often find ourselves the only ones doing something. Since moving to Benalla, we have made a point of riding our bikes whenever we can. We try to commute by bike. These trips can be for shopping, work, to meetings and to functions. We’ve been to plenty of events as the only people who have cycled. It is not always practical, but when we can manage it, it is often easier and quicker than going by car, especially because there are never any parking issues.

I once rode from Clarke St up around the lake to a night showing of a special movie at BPACC and was the only cyclist there. The ride home was the only time I’ve not encountered anyone on the track. It was quite magical riding through the bush in the dark.

We sometimes take our kayaks out on the lake and up the river and, almost always, we have the water to ourselves. We have learned where to look for platypus and even know of a bird rookery where we have seen night herons and spoonbills nesting. Often, we can see people walking or running along the track as we sit and observe nature.

Last Monday, when I asked Sally, “How would you like to do Diwali by kayak?” she was all for it.

We parked our truck near the boat ramp at the end of Benalla St and walked up to the celebrations to meet with some friends and to get some of the delicious food that was on offer.

Walking back to the car we decided to take the kayaks around to under the library as there was more lighting there for when we returned to put them back on the car.

As soon as we launched, we knew it would be magical. The wind had dropped and the water was like silk. ​

We paddled under the bridge past the Diwali celebrations to the two islands in the lake. The setting sun provided a wonderful backdrop as the birds came in to roost. 

​A couple of guys were at war on the tennis courts. We took some photos and, as the sun dropped below the horizon, we headed back towards the light show.

​We probably stayed on the water for about an hour. An amazing experience and we were the only ones to view this amazing spectacle from the water.
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John Holschier,
November 2024

​‘Namaste’, I said to my new neighbours. They smiled and returned the greeting. Then they apologetically explained that they were from Punjab in the north of India where Namaste was replaced by a different greeting.

A couple of weeks later I rang the doorbell armed with paper, pen and a container of Anzacs. (Ever tried to explain the meaning of Anzac, let alone the fact that it referred to biscuits!)

“Come in, come in,” they welcomed. “Sit down. What would you like to drink?” I wrote down their real names, the names they commonly used and their special greeting. In the meantime a glass of water appeared along with snacks of nuts and a bowl of grated carrot, coconut, almond meal and condensed milk.

“We’ve never had a neighbour visit us before. Can we show you our wedding photos?” Of course they could, so the laptop was produced. I started to say farewell but a cup of special chai was being made so I sat down again.

Diwali, the festival of lights, was coming up and I knew the Benalla Festival included a celebration. I dropped in to ask if they were going. They weren’t, because it was on the 4th. November and they wanted to celebrate on the proper date, the 1st.  November. Would I come in and join them? How could I refuse?

I rang the day before to check on the time.  –  Any time. -  Does it include a meal? –  Of course .- What time do you eat? -  8 or 9 o’clock.

I duly arrived at 7.30. Raavi had created a beautiful design from coloured powder on the tiles inside the front door. She poured me a glass of juice and proffered a box of cashew sweets. Davy arrived home from work and we ate appetisers – spherical paper-thin balls which you broke open, put in some spicy mixture then covered it with a thin corn soup.

Time for the lighting. Some tiny clay pots, filled with oil and holding a plait of cotton, were placed on the design near the door and carefully lit.

Then some tea candles were placed on the doorstep and on the front path and also lit. Out the back and more tea candles placed on the ground. Raavi flicked a switch and some ‘Christmas-tree-style’ streamers with tiny lights appeared. Then three sparklers were produced and we waved them around in the air and proclaimed, ‘Happy Diwali’.

​Nine o’clock and time to cook some spiced rice and some chapatis. A vegetarian curry of tofu was produced and some very spicy spears of okra.

Constantly I was assured, “Just try these things and if they are too spicy, don’t eat them.” A final dessert of sweet milky rice with crushed nuts was dished up, with the comment that this had been cooked especially for me in case the other food was not to my taste.

So many times I was thanked for coming. Could they call me Grandma? Of course. At 9.45 when I got up to leave and walk around the corner, I thanked them heartily and produced my torch. “But we’re coming with you to make sure you get home safely.” And that is exactly what they did!

To think that in more than eighty years, that was my first Diwali.
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Carmyl Winkler
November 2024