A road trip from Goa
Kalki Koechlin | Actor
I remember once when I was in school in Ooty, we heard about how the Diwali firecrackers are made by young children and we were told not to buy them unless they are responsibly made. It was quite amazing that at that time, people were talking about this. We would celebrate Diwali by lighting diyas all around the house. This would take a long time because the house was quite big. Lots of diyas and oil and wicks. We weren’t very religious as a family, and would celebrate Diwali with the children in the village where we lived. And the village had both Christians and Hindus.
My Diwali celebrations have been evolving, with awareness around firecrackers and not wanting to pollute. I’ve become much more conscious of that. Diwali is now more about friends and family getting together for a nice meal and a nice evening. This year, we’re going on a road trip across the country, a long one from Goa to the Nilgiris — with family and some friends. That’s also nice — to be in small towns you’ve never been to, and celebrate in a different way.
(As told to Shilajit Mitra)
Of rangoli and effigies
Hanif Kureshi | Founder of St+Art
Back in Gujarat, I would go to my aunt’s house in Rajkot for Diwali, where I would make rangoli. For me, it is public art — so I’d make extensive, large-scale, realistic-looking drawings of portraits, landscapes and sometimes, imitations of popular imagery on the street. I’d start making it at nine the previous night and go on till four on Diwali morning. Now, I live in Goa, and Diwali is different here. The highlight is the day before Diwali, when they burn effigies of Narakasura. It’s a very Goan thing. Everybody gathers around these structures, and all night, they play loud music and dance, finally burning the effigy around 5 a.m. on Diwali. The whole point is to burn the structure and through that, burn the evil within you.
(As told to Neha Mehrotra)
Imphal market, a wonderland
Mehnaz Nasreen | Activist
“The true spirit of any festival lies in the love, kindness, and inclusivity that we bring to it,” says 34-year-old Nasreen, born and raised in Manipur, a place known for its diverse ethnic cultures and traditions. Growing up, she was surrounded by friends and neighbours from different religious backgrounds.
“I cherished the unity in diversity that my homeland represented,” says this activist working in the field of youth empowerment, and founder, Youth Street News. While her faith resides in Islam, a minority community in Manipur, Nasreen believes the beautiful tradition of celebrating Diwali transcends religious barriers. Her family is a close-knit one, consisting of her husband, their cherubic 18-month-old son, and her extended family, all of whom share her deep respect for traditions.
Nasreen fondly remembers her father bringing firecrackers and candles to celebrate Diwali in her childhood. After the fireworks, the huge joint family consisting of grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins would get together to watch a movie, like Maine Pyar Kiya, which used to be telecast on DD National on Diwali evening. “These days, one of our cherished traditions is visiting the neighbouring locality on the evening of Diwali to see the fireworks. The Imphal market, too, transforms into a luminous wonderland at this time. ”
— Soibam Rocky Singh
Small-town revelry
Adil Hussain | Actor
I grew up in a town called Goalpara in Assam, in a house which was right in front of the school. Between the house and the school used to be this big field. On the right side of the field, from our house’s perspective, was a little hillock where the boys’ hostel was situated. The boys would set up a platform to place diyas on. We would wake up early in the morning and clean the diyas, and make wicks. We’d use mustard oil to light the diyas. This particular decoration was the biggest in town and right across from my house. All the people in town — it was a small town, with probably 40,000 people at the most, maybe less — would come down to see the lights in the evening. Regardless of religion, or any kind of faith, we all celebrated, participated and looked forward to it.
(As told to Shilajit Mitra)
An entire year of celebration
Sadaf Chowdhary | Lawyer
We had a baby earlier this year, so it’s going to be a very special Diwali. And because we’re an interfaith couple, we want our child to be exposed to everything, not just one tradition or culture. They can grow up to be whoever they want to be. We spent the entire year celebrating all the festivals that came along, we had two beautiful Eids, and an amazing Holi, and now, Diwali.
We do just a small puja, led by the elders of the family. My husband and I are happy to go along with the family at such times. We dress up, meet friends, and have a good time. There’s no religious significance for me, personally. It’s about spending time with family and loved ones, being thankful for the year that has gone by and praying for a better one next year. I think this festival transcends religion; it’s the big Indian festival. Of course, things are getting more polarised now. But the essence of Diwali remains.
(As told to Neha Mehrotra)
Marigolds and coconut laddoos
Feruza Abdullaeva | Artist and yoga counsellor
I am currently reading Latitudes of Longing, a remarkable novel by Shubhangi Swarup that considers the many ways human beings are connected with each other and the world around us. As someone from Uzbekistan, which was part of the Soviet Union, we have lived through ethnic ambiguity. The Soviet rule closed our churches, temples, mosques and synagogues, so what what my generation grew up with were some remnants of our native identity, without coherence. While by birth I am a Muslim, our holidays then were more cultural than religious.
The first Diwali I celebrated was five years ago in Delhi, though I knew about the festival from when I was nine. It was incredible how the city transformed and became magical. Since then, I celebrate Diwali every year in San Diego with an Indian family from Mumbai — Shivani (in pic, right) and Praveen. We are both immigrants, and the closest thing to a family to each other. We string garlands with marigolds collected from a Mexican ranch outside the city, and I make laddoos and halwa from recipes online. The coconut laddoo with rose petal and pistachio are a Feruza Diwali-special now.
Once I took my nine-year-old son to San Miguel de Allende in Mexico to witness Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, when they celebrate and honour deceased loved ones. That culture reminded me of India so much, with marigolds everywhere and women with flowers in their hair.
(As told to Rosella Stephen)
