The year 1996 was the last time I celebrated Diwali in India. Wow, that's 25 years ago! In May of 1997, I left India for good and made Toronto my new home. Diwali forever became a memory for me. Sure, there were small pockets of Indian immigrants who got together to organize gatherings in the community. These were fun, but nothing compared to the way entire cities would erupt into celebration in India. The country is transformed during this week. Being the festival of lights, complete city blocks after city blocks are covered in string lights. People illuminate their homes with little diyas, these tiny clay vessels candles scattered around. The characteristic sting of burning gunpowder makes your eyes water as rambunctious kids of all ages frolic around getting into all sorts of mischief. With each exploding firecracker, you are pushed one step closer to complete hearing loss. You are dazzled by the fountains of bright sparkles bursting into the air on every street corner. Little children squeal delightfully, and make circles in the air with their sparklers. And the sweets!!! Oh, the sweets!!! Mountains of Ladoos, Pedas, Barfis, Jalebis for miles and miles. And we wonder why Diabetes runs rampant among us South Asians?
I was born into a Muslim and Catholic household. We didn't have the traditional Diwali puja that came with ceremonies of worship in the house like our Hindu friends did. But my father owned an enterprise and we always hosted a Diwali celebration at the office, as many members of the team were Hindu. Dad would take me around to meet the work family. I would be all nice and polite, while the same questions kept repeating over and over, "How old are you?" and "What's your favorite subject in school?" and "Do you have a girlfriend?" I was pretending to be interested, but the only thought going through my head at the time was "Where's the mithai?" It was the Business practice in India to mark the start of the new year at Diwali by opening new account books. Those gatherings happened at my Uncle's house and I still remember them so very clearly. My father and my mother, my uncles and aunts, my cousins would gather around a table piled high with leather bound journals. In these books the daily transactions for the business would be recorded for the following year. We all said prayers of gratitude for our good fortune of the previous year, and asked for blessings for the following year. What a lovely memory to have! I have seen a time before computers, where business books were handwritten, totalled and balanced using a ballpoint pen and a manual calculator. It's almost like something from an ancient fairy tale. I am really dating myself aren't I?
And once all the prayers were said and done, and once everyone wished each other a very happy Diwali, the sweets and the snacks would come out. Oh... there would be gross acts of gluttony! Now as I think back to those times, I shouldn't be surprised that I was the chubby kid in school. Overindulgence was my middle name. Then we would go and blow s#!t up. All my elder cousins and uncles became kids once again, blowing up fireworks in the streets outside our homes. We wouldn't be the only ones. All the neighborhood would be out and about, celebrating just as we were. I remember music blaring from loud speakers. I remember people dancing and prancing like frenzied squirrels. Diwali is truly one of the best times of the year to be in India.
And think what the dancing in the streets must be like this year! Indeed history was made today as Rishi Sunak officially became Britain's prime minister and formed a cabinet. After 200 years of oppressive British rule, now it feels the tables have turned. The first Indian and the first Hindu to be the British Prime Minister, the first one to be appointed by King Charles III. Is this what it means to come full circle?
I really wish I could have been in India this Diwali. But instead, I'll settle for dancing to a Bollywood playlist in my kitchen. This Diwali is one worth dancing to. Like never before.
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