Forty forwarded images, and not one of them from anybody.
By the evening of Diwali the average phone has taken forty near-identical images, most compressed past legibility, none of them written by the person who sent them. Light, sent home — that is what the day is for, and a forwarded diya is not it.
Clearing that bar takes three minutes and one specific sentence. It matters most for the people you are not spending the festival with: the family you moved away from, the friends whose houses you used to walk to. A page with the right two photographs does what forty forwards cannot.
Templates that suit it
Nine and a half hours apart, on the same page.
For love that lives between two stations. Both clocks, on the page.
Same team. Even from here.
Sandalwood and a single red thread. No hearts anywhere on it.
One thing, said properly. That’s the whole page.
Free, and small on purpose. One thing, done properly.