MEMOIR | THIS HAPPENED TO ME

Of Diwali Traditions, Old and New

Our fingerprints don’t fade from the lives we touch

I woke up this morning and lit the lamp, and had my conversation with the divine gang as usual. As I sat with my coffee, warming my hands and waiting for my son’s call, my mind rolled back to decades ago when Diwali was a much bigger deal at home.

Ours was a joint family and we went all the way with traditional celebrations. A week before the D-day, my uncles would sit together and make lists of things to buy, argue over the menu of sweets and savories. They would decide who should tackle which list and get going. There would be gifts to buy for the family and relatives who visited, new clothes to choose from, and ingredients to source for all the exotic things on the menu. Because my folks had this tradition of making something new every year.

The day before Diwali would see my mom managing the kitchen — my aunts were quite happy to let her do it. I understand now that not only was she a great organizer but had a solid sense of humor. She had this knack of making everyone feel they were doing what they were doing voluntarily, which is why I guess she was beloved in her profession as a teacher.

I can still see her sitting on that short stool in the kitchen waving the huge ladle and laughing without inhibition, the busy stove with the huge wok in the middle of the room. She was so full of love and joy.

There would be music playing, interspersed with loud conversation and laughter. And yes, some bawdy jokes. My grandma, eyes twinkling, would gently offer advice and mock-scold, and her dimples would give away the fact that she was holding back her laughter, too.

Right now, if I close my eyes, I can still feel the aroma of frying and all the happy noise.

It would be at least 2 a.m. by the time everything was satisfactorily packed away and ready for the next day’s celebration. After a heated discussion over what to wear, new clothes would be laid out in trays for everyone. Naturally, those who went to work would want to dazzle in them on their next working day.

We would go to bed, and be up by 3.30 a.m. again to boil water for bathing. The special oil with herbs made the day before would be warmed and portioned out in cups for the traditional “oil bath”, for massaging the head and body. Homemade herbal shikakai powder would also be portioned out in lieu of soap to rinse off the oil while bathing.

I fondly recall massaging my uncles’ heads — so much laughter! My eyes fill up to think that only one of them is still alive today. I don’t know another family where the siblings loved one another so dearly.

After everyone had bathed and was ready in their new clothes, we would assemble at the altar in the puja room to eat a small ball of the special “Diwali medicine” made from herbs, called the “lehyam” to keep our tummies healthy when we gorged on all the sweets and delicious food throughout the day.

As my aunts got busy in the kitchen cooking lunch, everyone pitched in with the prep and other activities. Around 9 a.m. the neighbors and friends would begin to arrive, bringing sweets and exchanging Diwali greetings and of course, admiring each other’s attire. The day would go in a daze.

And we would go visit our neighbors too, with sweets.

Lunch would be enjoyed.

By evening, we would all get together for high tea and listen to songs on the record player — some relatives would stay over. After sunset, we would barely be able to even hear each other speak because of the noise from the firecrackers outside. But that didn’t stop us; we were happy yelling over the noise to be heard.

After tea, per our family tradition, numerous packages would be made for distribution to the homeless street people and we would set off cheerfully to find them, near the railway station, outside the temples, at the slums.

And thus would a pleasant day together with family end — tummies and hearts full!

Those days, the TV only had one channel and we would look forward to settling down and watching the special movie being aired. What a privilege it was! Dinner would be a light affair as we wound up the day.

Did you notice I did not mention that we burned firecrackers? We did not buy them. I do remember enjoying that box of “tablets” which when lit would spew out a snake-like thingy. During my childhood, I also recall enjoying the flower pots, a type of cone-shaped firecracker that, when lit, sends out a spectacular outburst of sparkles, in a fountain.

But all that changed when I learned that the place where they were manufactured, Sivakasi in South India, employed child labor.

Over the years, we have toned down our Diwali celebrations. In 1987, when I moved to another city on a job transfer with my mom, we decided that our revelry would be low-key. We did cook and make sweets because we enjoyed having friends over, but that’s where we drew the line. We pledged to donate something to commemorate every festival.

And now I have made that a family tradition. I don’t let the jibes from neighbors and extended family bother me. People have a tendency to frown upon you if you don’t follow what they believe “should” be done, and Indian festivals come with a lot of that baggage.

We do enjoy Diwali, the festival of lights.

And yes, while we light lamps–because who can resist pretty terracotta lamps?

We prefer to focus on lighting lives, not lamps

I took a pledge in 2010, the year my mom passed away to purge all our extras and it has been a slow process, taking a lot longer than expected. But then, that’s natural–when it takes years to accumulate, everything can’t be decluttered overnight. However, I am pleased that I have minimized buying and maximized giving away. To date, I have given away furniture, clothes, gift items, toys, books, utensils, kitchen appliances, and other miscellaneous stuff. I have sold some things and have added that money to my donation box.

As there is never a dearth of hungry people on the streets, food donation is a regular thing. I consider myself fortunate to continue Mom’s tradition of never ignoring someone who’s hungry, and in fact, seeking them out. Easy enough, when we do a round of the temples in the area, as they always have people sitting outside.

Sometimes it is heart-breaking to see that some elderly people belong to families that just won’t care for them. They let them out and lock up before they go to work, telling these elders to return around 7 p.m. when they get back from work.

My goal in life is to constantly strive to make a positive difference in as many lives as possible in whatever way I can, especially underprivileged children.

We no longer celebrate Diwali the traditional way — buying new clothes, making sweets, and feeling obligated to do all the things we are expected to do. Instead, we prefer to visit the local welfare home and contribute meals, and funds for their medical expenses, take care of their education expenses, and help them celebrate in the way they want. It certainly brings us more joy. As I mentioned earlier, we’ve never been fans of firecrackers so that has never been part of our festival of lights.

Our Diwali agenda is now cleaning house which is unavoidable with the constant construction and renovation work going on in our neighbourhood. This is followed by writing checks for donations, and giving away books, toys, and other things we no longer use. Sometimes we visit the welfare home in our area to have lunch with the 80 or so children there.

I pray for the well-being of all those I know and don’t know.

Even as I am writing this, my son called and after we exchanged Diwali greetings, he requested me to make a contribution on his behalf to one of the welfare homes we support.

What can I say? My heart is full. I like to think we’ve raised him well. I know my mom would be happy to see how we are celebrating today.

Thank you for celebrating Diwali with me ❤