Beyond lights and sweets: My complicated love affair with Diwali

One Diwali, as we were returning from the Gurudwara after offering our prayers and lighting a candle, I asked my mother, “Why do we light a candle at the Gurudwara for Diwali?” Her response startled me a bit. She said, “Actually, we go to the gurdwara not for Diwali, but for Bandi Chhor Divas.” I was astonished that what I had always assumed to be a Diwali ritual wasn’t actually related to Diwali at all!

Then she told me the story of Bandi Chhor, which commemorates the release of Guru Hargobind, the sixth Sikh Guru, from a prison in 1619. The Mughal Emperor Jahangir had imprisoned him along with 52 Hindu princes. When offered freedom, Guru Hargobind insisted that the princes be released as well. The Emperor agreed but set a condition: only those who could hold onto the Guru’s cloak could leave. Ingeniously, the Guru had a cloak made with 52 tassels, allowing all princes to depart with him. This clever act earned him the title “Bandi Chhor”, which translates to “Liberator”.

I further asked, “Does this mean Sikhs shouldn’t celebrate Diwali?”, my young mind worrying about the potential loss of firecrackers and jalebis. “Not at all,” she answered. “We celebrate both Diwali and Bandi Chhor. We can have twice the fun.” This was likely my first realisation that one doesn’t need to subscribe to a particular faith or religion to enjoy its culture.

The next day at school, I told my friend Sunil, who was a follower of Jainism, about how Sikhs celebrate Diwali differently, sharing the story of Bandi Chhor. His response surprised me even further. He said, “Even Jains celebrate Diwali for a different reason.” He explained that Diwali marks the day their Lord Mahavira “became God.” Later, I realised he meant Mahavira had attained enlightenment on that day.

“What a coincidence,” I thought to myself. “How could so many significant events for different religions be happening on the same day!” As I would later understand, many religions adopt and adapt practices and celebrations from pre-existing faiths.

A brief stint as a festival cynic

The 1980s were turbulent times in northern India where we lived. A violent Sikh separatist movement had swept the region, with the assassination of Indian prime minister Indira Gandhi followed by bloody riots claiming the lives of thousands of Sikhs. During the Diwali season, I was approached by a young Sikh Gurudwara worker, who said in Punjabi, “Don’t celebrate Diwali this year. It’s not ‘our festival’.” I wasn’t a supporter of the Sikh separatist movement, let alone the violence it unleashed. However, at that time, I was delving into philosophers like Kant and Nietzsche.

I was particularly inspired by Nietzsche’s concept of the “Übermensch”, which in German means superhuman. His idea of transcending traditional religious and moral beliefs in favour of self-mastery and excellence resonated with me. I believe the young Sikh’s exhortation, combined with my philosophical leanings, turned me into a cynic towards Diwali and festivities in general for a short while. I continued to indulge in jalebis though—this was my peak ten-jalebi phase—evidently, sugar cravings were stronger than philosophical leanings.

I see the light

As I grew older and hopefully, a little wiser, I began to emerge from my cynical phase. My indifference to traditional cultural practices was waning, and Diwali lights and sparklers were rekindling their magic in my life. However, Diwali had another cultural lesson in store for me.

In the 1990s, my wife and I moved to Bangalore in South India for work. One morning, I was startled awake by the sound of firecrackers—an unusual occurrence for us. This was a day before Diwali. For North Indians, Diwali is a night festival. This surprise led me to discover that Diwali in almost all of South India is celebrated quite differently from what I was used to in the North.

South Indians celebrate Diwali—or Deepavali, as it’s often called in the region (Sanskrit for “row of lights”)—to commemorate Lord Krishna’s victory over the demon Narakasura. On Diwali morning, people in South India rise early to take an oil bath, don new clothes, and set off their firecrackers at dawn. Even my beloved jalebi takes a backseat here, overshadowed by local favourites like mysore pak (an Indian sweet prepared in ghee).

Diwali’s multi-faceted, multi-origin associations continued to surprise me. However, this was not yet the end of my Diwali learnings!

Diwali as a cultural connector

14 years ago, my wife and I relocated to Singapore. To our delight, we discovered that Diwali is celebrated as a national holiday here. It’s predominantly known as Deepavali—the South Indian term—reflecting the majority of Singapore’s Indian population, who hail from South India. Each year, Little India dazzles with its vibrant Diwali lights and decorations. We have wholeheartedly embraced Diwali in Singapore. It’s become a cherished occasion to reconnect with friends, don Indian ethnic wear, and host or attend parties brimming with Indian cuisine. 

We take pleasure in inviting people from diverse nationalities and backgrounds, offering them a vibrant taste of Indian culture, food, and festivities. Diwali serves as a fantastic platform for cultural exchange. A few years back, we even celebrated Diwali with people from seven nationalities performing a choreographed dance to a famous Bollywood song! In Singapore, it marks the beginning of an extended festive season—followed by Christmas, New Year, and Lunar New Year. During these few months, the weighing scales are conveniently tucked away in the attic.

The ever-flowing river of Diwali

Festivals like Diwali resemble ever-flowing rivers, meandering through centuries and gathering stories and legends along their course. A few months ago, I immersed myself in a ten-day Buddhist meditation course. This experience not only sparked my interest in Buddhist philosophy but also led to an unexpected Diwali-related discovery. I learned that some Buddhists observe the festival as “Ashoka Vijayadashami,” commemorating Emperor Ashoka’s conversion to Buddhism. In Buddhist philosophy, Diwali symbolises wisdom triumphing over ignorance, represented by light. Fascinatingly, certain Buddhist traditions even mark Diwali as the day when the Buddha achieved ‘nirvana’ or enlightenment.

Historical accuracy isn’t the crux of these stories; it’s the values they embody that truly matter. You have the freedom to embrace any narrative, all of them, or none at all. The beauty lies in the diversity of interpretations. At its essence, Diwali represents the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance.

Diwali has evolved into a global festival, adding nuances and flavours to the places where it’s celebrated. New York City now hosts an annual “All That Glitters” Diwali ball, frequented by the likes of Hasan Minhaj and Indra Nooyi. This modern interpretation of the traditional festival blends Indian culture with contemporary New York style. Attendees don their finest attire, combining traditional Indian wear with modern fashion. Guests indulge in gourmet cuisine that fuses Indian and international flavours, prepared by renowned chefs. I wonder if they serve jalebis!

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