Little Lamp, Little Lamp, Warm and Round

"Plip." Iggy pushed a little clay lamp into the wet sand. It stood up straight. Iggy was a small unicorn, with a horn like a twist of seashell and a tail he was still growing into. The lamp was a diya, small enough to sit in Iggy's hoof. Mama had lit it with a long paper spill, because grown-ups light the lamps, and Iggy placed them.

It was Diwali, the festival of lights. All along the shore, families were setting out diyas. The lights made a wobbly gold path from the cottage door right down to the water.

The moon was up, big and white. It laid a path of silver on the sea, and the little boats sat on the path and rocked. Everything smelled of salt and warm seaweed, and something sweet from the kitchen.

Mama was making a rangoli by the step. A rangoli is a picture on the ground, made of petals and shells and colored sand. Mama's rangoli was a fat round sun, with petals for the rays and a ring of white sand around the edge.

"Iggy," said Mama, "will you fetch the pink shells? They go in the middle." Iggy nodded. He liked fetching. He liked the hush of the waves folding onto the sand.

Down at the water's edge, someone was waiting. It was Sol, a small grey seal pup with whiskers like rain. Sol had a shell in each flipper. "I found these," said Sol. "For your mama's picture."

"Thank you," said Iggy. "Come and help." So they went up the sand together and put the shells in a neat pink row. Sol hummed while they worked. The hum went, "Little lamp, little lamp, warm and round." Iggy hummed it too.

Mama looked at the pink row and smiled. "That is just right," she said. Iggy's tail went up like a little flag. That is what a unicorn's tail does when it is proud.

Then Sol tried to hop over the rangoli to reach the shell bag. One grey flipper came down right in the middle of the sun. The shells flew. The petals slid. The fat round sun turned into a smudge.

Iggy's ears went hot. "Sol!" he said. "You spoiled it!" His voice came out much bigger than he meant.

Sol's whiskers drooped. "I was only helping," said Sol, very quietly. Then Sol turned and slid down the sand to the water and did not come back up.

Iggy stood by the smudged rangoli. His tummy felt tight. He was cross and he was sorry all at once, and the two feelings would not fit together.

Mama came and looked at the picture. "Hm," she said. "Rangoli can be mended." Then she went to light the next lamp.

Iggy looked down the beach. Sol was a small grey lump by the waves, with Sol's grandmother close beside, humming low.

Try number one. Iggy took a sweet from the plate. It was a laddoo, round and gold and sticky, and it smelled of butter. He carried it down the sand and held it out. "For you," he said.

Sol took the laddoo. "Thank you," said Sol. But Sol did not come back up the beach. Sol just sat and looked at the water. Iggy walked back alone. The sweet had not worked.

Try number two. Iggy found the very pinkest shell. He polished it on his knee and carried it down. "This one is the pinkest of all," he said. "It's for you."

"It is very pink," said Sol. Sol set it in the sand beside one flipper. But Sol still did not come back up. Iggy sat down on his heels. He felt wobbly inside.

Mama came and sat next to Iggy. "Did you tell Sol you are sorry?" she asked. "Not yet," said Iggy. "I gave stuff." Mama said, "Mm," and she went back to her lamps.

Try number three. Iggy walked down the sand slowly. He sat beside Sol and did not give anything at all. He just sat. The water went shhh, shhh. The moon laid its long silver path on the sea.

After a while, Sol said, "I wanted to help." Sol's voice was small. "My flipper is big. The picture was little. I spoiled it, and I felt wobbly."

Iggy listened. He listened with his ears up and his tail very still. He had not known that Sol felt wobbly too. "I'm sorry I shouted," said Iggy. "It was only a smudge. You're my friend."

Sol's whiskers lifted right up. "You're my friend too," said Sol. Then Sol laughed, a splashy little seal laugh, and Iggy laughed too.

They went back up the sand together. Iggy laid a petal. Sol laid a shell. Iggy laid a petal. Sol laid a shell. They made the sun again, and this time a pink shell sat in the middle of it, and it was better than before.

Mama lit the last diya. One lamp, two lamps, three lamps, all down the shore. The beach turned into a sky with its lights on.

Then the neighbours came with plates. There were laddoos, round and gold. There were squares of something chewy and nuts in a bowl. Sol's grandmother brought a plate of little sweets with pink on top and set it where everyone could reach.

"Eat," said Sol's grandmother. "There is plenty." So they ate, and the sweets were sticky and good, and the diyas burned steady all around them.

Iggy and Sol each put down one more lamp, where the sand was flat and smooth. "Little lamp, little lamp, warm and round," said Sol. "Little lamp, little lamp, warm and round," said Iggy.

"Long ago," said Mama, "people set out lamps at Diwali to say, our door is open, come in. That is what the lights are saying now." Iggy looked along the shore. The little lamps did look like little open doors.

The moon climbed higher. The waves went shhh, shhh, shhh. The flames on the diyas flickered, and bent, and stood up again.

Sol yawned. It was a wide, whiskery yawn. Iggy yawned too, a unicorn yawn that made his horn wobble.

They sat together on the warm sand, flipper against flank, and watched the last of the light. Sol hummed the little lamp song, soft and low, and Iggy hummed underneath it.

Up at the cottage, Mama's lamp in the window was a small gold dot. Down by the water, the diyas were small gold dots too. They went all the way along the beach, and all the way back again, and the dark was not dark at all.

The hush of the waves folded onto the sand, one wave, and then one more. The sea smelled of salt and warm seaweed. The moon made its silver path, and the path got longer and softer, the way paths do at night.

Iggy leaned his head against Sol's warm grey side. Sol's whiskers tickled his ear. Somewhere down the dark, a lamp burned steady, warm and round, and the two friends breathed slowly in the quiet, and the quiet was kind.