Diwali Nostalgia

Diwali used to be a big deal in the family. A once a year occasion for new clothes, endless making of sweets and salties, people in and out in brilliant shiny clothes - it was the season of plenty - plenty enough for all us kids and plenty more for neighbors, friends, relatives, poor and destitute. There was 'baksheesh' for everyone and also sweets.

I grew up and went away from home. I cried every Diwali spent wandering through a mall, catching a movie and fancy candle-lit dinner. I didn't want any of this. What I wanted was the sense of excitement, the color and the dazzle, and sharing - sharing with lots and lots of people. I grew up with a notion that festivals and celebrations were about sharing and the joy this brings.

Today, sharing is done on basis of reciprocity - account keeping of give and take, and balancing of books. It is counted who gave what to whom and what we owe, and how much, to whom. It is an elaborate social charade replacing the community spirit with contracted exchange.

However, I keep a firm distance away from these silly notions. Now, every Diwali, I deck up in saree ( a big deal for me), bottu, jewellery - tuck my pallu around and get down to the business of recreating my own Diwali - the nostalgic Diwali of my childhood. I turn into a veritable halawaii and turn out the same treats for my children! Gulab Jamun, Almond burfee, mohanthal and then fafada, choraphadi, chewdo...special meals for diwali days as written down in my recipe book by my mother, and an extra special meal for the New Year...deepams lit in rows, children in their indian clothes, husband in a silk Kurta - and lots of people all around. I do this happily, to be a child again, and to relive a Diwali from my childhood.

Michami Dukhadam - I Seek Forgiveness

Today is a day I value most - amongst all days - as a day when we, as Jains, seek forgiveness, of all. It is a day of Savantsari Pratikaman with which our Pajosan - the yearly days of Jain festival end.

I seek forgiveness of all - man, bird, beast, insect, life forms seen, or unseen, whom I harmed, by my actions, while sitting, standing,in speech or in thought, knowing, or unknowingly, in any way at all - I seek heart felt forgiveness.

May I be forgiven.

Flying Kites, Flying Dreams

On Jan. 14, over many states in India, people take to fields, open grounds, rooftops, every square bit of space that views a bit of sky above, holding square scraps of color, fat spools of thread, ready to let their dreams fly - and with these dreams a bit of themselves.

Preparations begin weeks in advance with making a frame in a bow-arrow shape, fixing paper, attaching a tail, correctly orienting tiny holes for thread. Stacks of kites are got ready in each family and threads prepared painstakingly smeared with a paste of powdered glass. Kites, thus armed, fly forth upwards to ultimately rule (by defeating or 'killing' competitors) the vast blue sky!

We, at IISc, celebrated this festival, yesterday - a glorious day of blazing sun, cool breeze, fluffy clouds and high spirits. A morning - just to fly kites and feast! Young and old participated with equal gusto - kites flew till some where just floating dots in the sky, others - uncurbed, challenging beauties that whirled in amazing swirls, loops before diving for the ground, or inexplicably soaring straight up for the skies.

I watched, taking pictures, then giving up on my camera, ran to grab a kite!

Diwali - Confusion and More Stories

A friend once said that the day he got bored of India, he would leave. He is still here almost 20 years later. India never ceases to astonish, surprise, and spin yarns for you. After all these years, over Diwali sweets with friends, I discovered that there are reasons and reasons for celebrating Diwali-the day remains the same, but the reasons differ. Till yesterday I only knew the story of Ram - the prince of Ayodhya.

Today, I was told that in Tamilnadu (South India), Ravana, the evil demon adversary of Ram, is the true hero-the guy that Ram kills before his return to Ayodhya - so, here, Diwali is a celebration of Krishna's killing Nakasura-yet another demon, who with his dying breath, asks for a boon, to be remembered on Earth-hence, the Diwali celebration. Keeping in mind that both Ram and Krishna are different Vishnu avatars makes the picture more confusing. There are others who maintain that Diwali is "Nombu" a vrata day for women-certain austeries are performed to request boons from the Gods-blessings for family, husband, but never for one self. In some quarters, this day is used to remember the dead.

In Western India, Diwali is the day to worship Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, and spouse of Vishnu. In East India, however, this is Kali Puja. Kali, Parvati, Durga are all different forms of Shiva's wife, and the daughter of Earth. When humanity was being harassed by the demons of the underworld, they ran to Durga and asked for help. Durga then took the destructive, ferocious form of Kali-naked, dark blue, with hair flowing to her waist, and armed to kill. She started killing the demons and wore their heads in a garland around her neck-she was blood thirsty, destructive, unstoppable till finally people approached her husband Lord Shiva for help. So as Kali was doing her war dance, Shiva came and lay on her path. When Kali stepped on her Lord, she realised her great error and stuck her tongue out in horror. This is how she is worshipped today, stepping on Shiva, dripping blood and sticking her tongue out!

Diwali Dazzle-A Festival of Lights

Its said that when Ram, the crown prince of Ayodhya, returned after fourteen long years in exile, the people welcomed him joyously, decorating their homes, streets, with lamps-Deep- hence Deepavali or Diwali. People exchanged sweets to share their happiness, and dressed in new clothes. After all, Ram-vanquisher of evil, a Vishnu incarnate, saviour of the world, was finally returning home.

In India, memories run long and deep- of even mythological events. Diwali is again upon us-and a sense of excitement fills the air. Weeks before, fabrics are bought, tailors are visited, bothered, spring cleaning begins at home. As the week approaches, special Diwali sweets are planned, and cooking begins-days of cooking snacks and sweets to be put away for the festival days. Children's hands reaching into jars are tapped off, husbands scolded lightly for dipping into goodies. Coloured paper streamers hung across doorways, thresholds decorated with coloured rangoli.

The actual festivities begin two days before Diwali. First day is Dhanteras-a day to invite Lakshmi-the goddess of wealth home. Lamps are lit outside doorways before dawn, swastiks are marked for auspiciousness, and footsteps in red marked leading into the home-just to make sure she finds and enters the threshold. People throng to the silver shops and buy silver as a token of peace and prosperity.

The next day is Kalichaudas; a day when women are granted their share of beauty for the year. Early morning ritual bath with sandalwood, cream, turmeric,is followed by dressing up in fineries. Traditional Indian dressing is an evolved art form, where the eyes are kohled, forheads painted in a kum-kum red dot, hair braided, coiled, sarees draped. Flowers for the hair, and jewellery for the rest of the body. Silver payals around the ankles, and silver toe rings. Silver belts to adorn narrow waists; gold bangles for the wrists, rings for the fingers, and arm bands;necklaces of gold and gems, and also earrings, noserings. For a daring few, gold tika on the forehead. Finally the women and girls are ready to welcome their prince.

Diwali day sees a stream of visitors in and out of homes, and children dressed in fineries taking trays laden with holiday delicacies to neighbours. At night, lamps line thresholds, windows, balconies, oil lamps that cast their golden glow on sparkly homes, smiley people, excited children. Finally there are the fireworks-coloured sparklers in hands of children,"flowerpots" that throw out light,sparkley volcanoes of fire, fire wheels spinning furiously on land, or in hand, and rockets carefully poised in empty bottles taking off for the stars in brilliance of red and green.The prince has finally arrived!

Dancing to a Female God

This happens every year. Not just to me, but to all Gujaratis in the country and around the world. Monsoons end and we all get itchy feet. We carry around beats of garba-raas in our heads and try not to clap, leap, swirl in middle of a mundane conversation-we then know, Goddess is sure to arrive.With subdued excitement we get out our mirrored costumes and "dandiyas".Families play garba music and mothers train children in the ways to welcome the goddess-with lots of music, lots of dance.

Then follow, Navratri, "Nine nights" of dancing in circles, circles of many hundreds, thousand, one inside another all the way to the goddess herself, sitting on her tiger, and watching us with an indulgent smile. Clap, swirl, forward, backward, non-tiringly to an ever quickening beat till only the most proficient and hardy remain to a heady crescendo while most watch on in admiration and awe. And then, the dancing begins again, all over again, the Raas this time- a partner dance again in circles-the celestial dance of Krishna with Gopis-the same dance to welcome the daughter goddess home to her earthly abode. Hands hurt, legs ache, bare feet blister with the constant pounding on the earthern floors-yet the heart laughs and people shout "let the dancing continue".