As a little girl I remember my first Diwali celebration in India. It was two months into the school year and my parents pulled me out to let me experience a real Diwali in their native home. “You don’t really know Diwali until you spend it in India.” I still remember those words from my Dad. And he was right.
I remember so much about that authentic Diwali. The lights were everywhere. Small clay lamps, filled with oil were lighted to signify how the tiny flickers of light would vanquish evil. I remember my Mom’s bright blue sari, the white beading laid scattered on the cloth like a waterfall. Her face smiled as she laid out the various sweets that look like a mini-rainbow on a shiny metal plate. In the background, I heard the exchanges between mothers and sons, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, all saying, “Happy Diwali” in their particular Indian dialect. As I reflect on this moment now, I know my twelve-year-old self felt the comfort of the light, the embrace of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and the literal holiness of that moment.
I must confess that I’ve never felt the same sense of light in subsequent Diwali celebrations. Trying to recreate the same sentiment in the United States is quite difficult. It hit me a few weeks ago when I mentioned to my daughter that Diwali was upon us and she replied, “What is that? I am waiting for Santa and Christmas Momma.” It hurt me to hear that she had no idea what Diwali meant or its significance. She doesn’t know because I haven’t shown her. I’ve lost touch with my own Indian roots in many ways. I’ve not visited India in over seventeen years. In our house, English is our primary language. Although I sprinkle Indian words intermittently throughout my conversations with her, it isn’t the same as having fluent exchanges where she understands me completely. I cook Indian food, but tomorrow night I will not replicate the same feast that I witnessed my Mom make every Diwali when I was growing up. I am Indian, but perhaps I’m slowly losing what the texture of what that feels like.
There are ways that I keep trying to hold on. We attended a Diwali picnic where my daughter received a piece of paper explaining the meaning of the holiday. She participated in rangoli, an Indian folk art where designs are made in traditional Hindu festivals. Tomorrow morning we will wake early, sit near our temple in our home and commemorate the day. In the evening, there will be an authentic Indian meal and this weekend my daughter will perform a dance for a Diwali gathering.
I know that there are so many elements that are missing from my Diwali celebration, but I am still eager to stand in the light.It is not automatic. To feel that kind of light I need to try harder.
Happy Diwali to my family and friends. Hope all of you feel the glimmer of the light.
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Your specific memories from your 12 year old self are so crystal clear and strong. Maybe some day you can take your daughter to India again. To bring our heritage and history to our current space is difficult at times. And the warmth of family is hard to recreate in their absence. Thank you for the light you shared today.
Barb,
Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment. I do hope to take my daughter to India one day so that she can experience some of the same light I did during Diwali. It is difficult see-sawing between two different cultures and identities. There is a very delicate line between assimilation and preserving cultural roots.
I have done the crass thing. Tonight Lila leaves water out for Ram and Sita and when they pass, they leave a small gift for her on the window seal. Not more than one, just one. Interestingly it’s the only present she remembers getting all year because it’s only one present and not just one in a pile of gifts. But I thought it was just too much to compete with the American holidays that leave gifts and that have surprise appearances by much hailed beings. This way she remembers the story and she looks forward to this new year holiday.
Miah,
I love this tradition that you’ve started with the kids. And I am so glad Lila cherishes that single gift. Simplicity is sometimes the best answer. Thanks for taking the time to comment.
Happy Diwali to you and yours Rudri. Wishing you light always. Thank you for sharing .
Ayala,
Thanks for your Diwali wishes. May you and yours always bask in the light as well. xoxo
What a beautiful memory, Rudri. Perhaps some day you can take your daughter to India to experience Diwali as you did.
Beautiful memories! What does Diwali commemorate? What is the appropriate phrase or greeting for me to use to wish you well for the holiday?
Rudri, You express yourself so beautifully.
When my great-grandparents and grandparents came to this country; their desire to be American was stronger than their desire to preserve their heritage and customs. They were discouraged from speaking in their native language and encouraged to learn and speak only English. One of my grandfathers even changed his last name to a more American sounding one. Sometimes, I feel like I missed out on something important – a bit of family history and culture.
It seems inevitable and even natural that your two worlds – Indian and American – become all mixed up together, and I appreciate your desire to pass on, as well as the importance of passing on, your heritage to your daughter. May she embrace it fully. Happy Dawali!
Without question, it’s difficult in certain environments to hang on to our cultural traditions and to pass them down to our children. Unless we’re surrounded by family (friends, community) to support that effort, it remains a challenge.
I married into a different culture (one I enjoyed), yet carrying forward the traditions – especially at holiday time – became dependent upon frequent visits overseas and a great deal of reinforcement here at home. As my (then) husband traveled constantly, it was very problematic to keep some of those lovely customs alive, though there were some communities in our city we could have participated in more fully had we made it more of a priority.
Even if you plant some seeds, Rudri, I think they provide a good deal to children. My sons have both returned to Europe to experience the culture of their father first hand. As for the varying cultures on my side of the family, I did what I could, but it also seems like it was inadequate. Then again – I think we judge ourselves harshly. The world is more complex and busier than it was when we were children – regardless of where we grew up and how.
I am not familiar with Diwali, so I found your post very interesting. I agree that keeping some of the traditions of our culture alive is important. How wonderful that your have that great memory of your experience to savor.
I just stopped by from SITS to say hello; hope you find the time to return the visit.
What a poignant post, Rudri, and once again I can relate. Maintaining our traditions and cultures at the same level that our parents did is such a challenge once we have transplanted to another culture/country, but it is easy to shoulder all the responsibility of passing things on to our children (and to take all the blame when things just don’t happen “right.”) I know my mother tried very, very hard to have my brother and I maintain respect toward our Chinese traditions, and being the American wannabe back then, I tried to reject our heritage as much as possible. So now I am (regrettably) very ill equipped to do anything when it comes to Chinese holidays and celebrations. I am afraid that what little I do is merely superficial, and once my parents are gone the traditions and what little identification my tricultural son has to the Chinese part of his heritage may be gone too. Like you I need to try harder.
Happy Diwali to you and your family! (I’m sorry for stopping by late.)