Diwali – Nostalgia…

Diwali. The festival of lights. It’s that time of the year when everyone gets eager to celebrate, gets busy making preparations for enjoying the most widely celebrated festival in India. It’s also that time of the year when I get very nostalgic about my bygone years.

When I was a kid, Diwali mostly was an affair to meet people, make new friends, play with old friends and eat homemade stuff from all over my Nani’s (grandmother’s) village.

In Goa and in some parts of Maharashtra / Karnataka, Diwali is a festival celebrated to rejoice for Kanhaji’s victory over Narakasur (the demon who captured 1100 beautiful princesses and he was planning to slay them). We burn the idol of Narakasur and enact the victory of good over evil. This is a grand event with competitions held across villages for the best Narakasur idol etc, which runs throughout the night before Diwali. On the morning of Diwali, mom would wake us up while it was still almost dark (if we ever slept at all) and get us bathed with Utan (wonderful smelling ayurvedic powder mixed with oil and applied as a moisturizing body lotion). Then we would  go to the Tulasi Vrindavan in our garden and with the big tow of left foot burst “Karit”, a bitter fruit and taste its juice. Begin the festival this way signified that life may be bitter at times, but there are still reasons to celebrate.

We kids and the male members of household would go from one neighbor’s place to other visiting them, wishing them and eating pohe with them. Similarly they would come to our place.

Then the whole day would unfold with games we played with all the kids. Hide & seek, “Dongar ki Pani” (mountain or water) in temple courtyard. Or we just slept for a long time, lazed around, telling and listening to stories with cousins.

Evening would mean a time to show off all our paper lanterns, and paper based decorations. Everything we had been creating and sticking, hanging around the house and garden for days before Diwali. We would have pooja of Goddess Laxmi in our house and then light some crackers. Again, this pooja was an affair made grand by visiting neighbours and friends. I remember my Nani sending us kids with dishes she made and knew that someone in the village liked it. No matter what age or caste the village people belonged to.

All the celebration was centered around keeping your household sparkling clean, kitchen smelling mouth-wateringly wonderful, rooms full of lights, warmth and welcome for friends and people in the community. In general, the financially lower class people would be made to feel a part of the village community.

We didn’t have expensive gifts or crackers, nor ready made dresses and sweets. But these things-that-money-can-buy, didn’t count so much. Because we had love of our family and friends. Is it not how we should really celebrate our festivals? Liking people and using things (instead of the other way round)? Giving back to society and sharing instead of remaining simply a “grab-it-all, make-it-mine”?

Think about it….!