Flicker of the diyas

During Diwali, even agnostics and non-believers illuminate their homes with twinkling lights. Some even succumb...

During Diwali, even agnostics and non-believers illuminate their homes with twinkling lights. Some even succumb to holding an annual puja: after all, who wants to offend Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth?

Having grown up in a home where rituals were held in utter disdain, Diwali was pretty much like any other leisurely holiday for us, except that we over-ate, lounged around, wore nice clothes and, in the evening, lit some diyas. In those days it wasn’t so politically incorrect to light crackers and, at dusk, a bunch of us kids would gather around proudly displaying our stock of fireworks.

Marriage to a north Indian changed all that. Diwali celebrations now became very conventional. Besides getting addicted to playing cards in the one week before D-Day, I watch my husband’s sprightly 85-year-old grandmother wrestle with wrapping boxes of mithai to gift to her eight siblings. She looked at me in horror when I suggested she abandon this mammoth effort. She pointed out that after sending mithai for 60 years, her relatives would think she has gone senile if she discontinues the practice. Then my husband leaps out of bed early in the morning to rush to his office, 40 km away, for the puja there. The rest of his day gets lost in battling hellish festive traffic. After having been conned into accompanying him the first year, I manage to withstand his accusing glares when he returns, a dishevelled wreck, several hours later.

Story continues below this ad

Like the fine art of pickle-making that is slowly disappearing with the departing generation, the Laxmi Puja is dwindling into a more subdued affair, even in homes where it was once held on a grand scale. Besides decking up in finery, lighting diyas and making rangoli, city-bred 30-somethings usually haven’t a clue to how to conduct a puja. My own is a make-shift affair where my zealous maid holds forth, and we meekly do as she says. It lasts for precisely three minutes. However, that’s not to say that Diwali has lost its significance; rather, it’s evolving into a more personalised affair, less bound by rituals.

Somewhere, despite the haze that envelopes city skyline, despite the air made toxic by fire crackers, the magic of the festival remains. And nothing expresses it better than the diyas flickering in homes across the city.