Is Diwali the celebration heard from a distance,
through the snap and crackle of firecrackers? Is it the
excitement of shoppers in frantic search of the perfect
diyas to light their homes with? Is it the fragrance of
honey-dripping mithais cooking on the stove? Or is it
the feel perhaps, of a crisp, new garment running over
your skin? Maybe it’s the sound of people wishing each
other with a genuine hope for prosperity to fill each
other’s homes and hearts?
The celebration stems from the Ramayana, marking
the return of Sri Ram after a fourteen-year exile. It
is the triumph of good over evil and the celebration of
Sri Ram’s coming home.
But here we are, in this day and age, celebrating
Diwali with as much euphoria as they probably did
back then. How do we rekindle the same spirit year
after year wherever we are?
Having grown up in Hong Kong, I remember my
mom making us help her clean the house for the festival,
including cupboards and drawers we’d forgotten
even existed over the year. As if that wasn’t tiring
enough, she would then spend almost a week at the
gas stove, cooking sweets and namkeens because no
ready-made Indian snacks were available in the market.
Still it wasn’t the mouthwatering dishes or the night’s
dinner that we looked forward to the most. Neither
was it the phone calls to family in India, or the postdinner
get-together where we’d all meet at the local
temple, and then hop-scotch to each other’s homes
and drown ourselves in sodas, sweets and savory
snacks offered at everyone’s place.
The annual highlight was the Diwali Ball.
Our Indian community (about 300-strong at the
time) always scheduled a stellar Diwali celebration at a
five-star hotel: a two-hour cultural program of dances,
skits and plays followed by an elaborate buffet dinner
and raffle. There would be rehearsals every weekend
for a month or two, and since Mom usually took charge
of the event, visitors dropped in frequently to finalize
their choreography and performances. It was a chance
to showcase our childhood talents to the community.
After the night was
over, the wait
would begin,
for the next Diwali to come around.
Then I married, moved to Mumbai, India, and saw
another facet of the same celebration.
The Diwali cleaning was still an extensive ritual,
but with so many Indian sweets and savory snacks
readily available, the quest wasn’t to make but have
sweets made from the mithaiwalas and delivered to the
homes of numerous family and friends in time. Diwali
puja and dinner, followed by phone calls to family and
friends, were still an elaborate affair. However we didn’t
hop-scotch from one friend’s place to another as we did
in Hong Kong, but met most of the family at a Diwali
get-together and the majority of friends at community
events scheduled well ahead of time. But the biggest
bang in India had to be the firecrackers. They’d begin
shooting and crackling well before dawn and continue
all day, well past midnight, until your ears were sore.
And what about Diwali in the USA?
Diwali house-cleaning is still a big thing and without
the help of servants it requires a lot more planning
and organization than in India. The Diwali dinner is an
elaborate affair here, too, with dishes prepared at home
from scratch despite ready and packaged products in
the market. Diwali puja is still followed by phone calls
to friends and family in India and abroad. What about
the firecrackers? With easier laws (than in Hong Kong
but not as lax as in India) we shoot the evening sky with
blazes of color from our driveway.
With another Diwali just round the corner, I can
already smell the mithais cooking and honey-golden
syrup bubbling once again. I can hear the firecrackers
shoot to burst in the night sky and the phone beginning
to ring off its hook. I can hear cries of “Happy
Diwali!” ringing in my ears and I don’t have to think
about recreating the spirit of this festivity again.
I know it will come alive as it does every year, because
every Diwali lights with a diya no matter where
you are and stems from the heart!
Anju Gattani is a freelance journalist and author. Duty and
Desire is her debut novel.