As far back as I can remember, the Diwali holidays used to be the most awaited break of the year (after summer holidays, of course). My obsession with hoarding whatever crackers I could lay my hands on and then bursting them one by one in a miserly fashion, afraid that I might run out of them too soon, often left me wanting for more. Only if Diwali lasted forever! That’s what I used to pray. And so great was my affinity for this festival in early childhood, that even on the morning following the eve of Diwali, me and my friend would scavenge the neighborhood for unused candles and failed crackers so that we may fire up another dull night with the recycled ammunition. 

And then time slid by, year by year, adolescence gradually took away the childish fascination with thrills and bangs of crackers as I increasingly began to discard the mandatory puja and the lighting of diyas as trivial pursuits. A further detachment from Diwali began with the onset of adulthood as I left the comforts of home to become an engineer. Then it was just a great excuse to be back home with family where the plentiful and exotic sweets received my admiration even though the arduous tasks of cleaning, praying, and tolerating the smoke filled streets became increasing difficult.

Four years ago, after finishing up my bachelors in engineering, through a strange combination of luck and aspiration, I was transported abroad and was so far away from home that at once I was afraid that I might actually be missing out quite a bit of the festive life that existed in India. But strangely, none of that happened and Diwali lost its entire meaning the moment the whirlwind of graduate studies and US culture engulfed me. I stayed out of whatever modest Diwali celebrations the local desi community organized. Having maintained a careful distance from everyone around me, I began to revel in my life as a recluse. Diwali? How trivial. I must have said that at some point.

The perspective didn’t advance much as I relocated to Denmark two years ago. Diwali, like any other day of the year, be it Christmas or my birthday, began and dissolved into nothingness without much spectacle. Many festivals and celebrations tend to lose their meaning if one removes their social aspect. 

But there was something different about this Diwali of 2014. This time there was an air of nostalgia about me. I didn’t know the cause. It could be that the woman I love has finally managed to reconnect me with the roots that I had so unflinchingly severed off. Or, it could also be a side effect of joining Facebook earlier this year (which has been a fascinating social experiment by the way, but that’s another story) that led me to forcibly peer into the self-portrayed personal and social lives of several individuals - most of whom happily and unknowingly reminded me of this great occasion. It could be neither or both. 

Whatever may be the cause, I can not allow myself to discard this festival as trivial anymore. Yes. Not anymore. But if it’s significance has to grow, my optimism must beat my skepticism. There are several issues that bother my current self and I must record them here now or risk losing them due to an evolving perspective. (And mostly, since I’ve nothing significant to do or engage in this Diwali, I better write something up to calm myself down.)

One of the things that bothers me about Diwali is the idea that it is a celebration of the return of Lord Rama from battle and exile. Lord Rama, who is adored much for his virtues and righteousness, appears to adopt a patriarchal attitude towards his noble wife Sita, especially post-war, sending her off to hermitage and forcing her through a bunch of crazy tests to test her “purity”. And that’s just because she’s been with another man (Ravana, who can either be a villian or a hero, depending on who you ask). In the current society, if gender equality and feminism are to mean anything, perhaps Lord Rama isn’t so ideal anymore. And if we ignore that story, symbolically, it’s a festival that shows the triumph of good over evil, light over darkness, and so on. While these contrasts are very inspiring, they are at best abstract, unrealistic concepts and at worst, they are strong doses of optimism for an impressionable, young soul. In reality, the morality of good and evil are merely a matter of perspective. Often, labels of good and evil are assigned whimsically to the strong and the weak, the fortunate and the unfortunate, the oppressor and the oppressed and sometimes vice-verse. 

Then there is this matter of keeping one’s house clean and lighting many candles and diyas so that the goddess Laxmi may find her way into our homes as well as bank accounts. Surprisingly, an immortal goddess, wife of Lord Vishnu, too is as much biased towards sources of light as her annual worshipers are. This can be explained if we consider that humans fabricated gods and goddesses for their convenience and not the other way around. 

But. Having said all that, if heavy symbolism blended with fascinating literature and mythology can encourage people to collectively clean their homes and surroundings once in an year (at least), invoke a festive mood in a society that is otherwise troubled with a plethora of fundamental problems, and most of all, offer them a moment of celebration with their loved ones where they can indulge in the fleeting joys of sweets and crackers - then, perhaps, Diwali is too grandiose a phenomenon to be questioned as irreverently as I may have done in the preceding paragraphs. 

Happy Diwali everyone.