Happy Diwali!

It’s the festival that is celebrated all across India – but in many different ways

No sooner did the Supreme Court of India declare that firecrackers (and only the ‘green’ variety – whatever those might be) could only be let off between 8 and 10 pm on Diwali than the protests began. Most of them emanated from outraged firecracker enthusiasts who could not understand why they had to restrict their passion within a narrow two-hour band. (Pollution? What pollution? Don’t you know it’s caused by all those pesky cars and trucks? Not to mention the burning of agricultural waste in neighbouring farmland.)

But there were some who had an entirely different problem. These people were from the south of India, where it is customary to celebrate the festival during the day. In the south Indian tradition you mark Diwali by having an oil bath in the morning, getting dressed in new clothes, doing a puja, and then setting off all the firecrackers you can lay your hands on. How could these communities possibly celebrate according to their traditions and not fall afoul of the Supreme Court ruling? Especially considering that they celebrate Diwali the day before north India does.

And those are not even the main differences between a north Indian and south Indian Diwali. For starters, it is called Deepawali (not Diwali) in south India. And it marks – no, not the victory of Lord Ram over Ravana – the day Lord Krishna killed the demon Narakasura after a fierce battle. It is believed that after Lord Krishna vanquished the demon, he had an oil massage and then a hot bath. So, in emulation of the Lord, south Indians begin the day by oiling their bodies – or ritually anointing their heads – and then having a bath just as Krishna did. Only after this ritual Ganga Snanam is over, and they have donned new clothes for that day, do the festivities and fireworks commence. And yes, they take place over the daytime. Surely, the Supreme Court could have made provision for that?

The truth is that while popular culture revolves around the Diwali rituals and celebrations of north Indian communities, there are as many different ways to mark the festival all over India as there are different communities.

In Maharashtra, for instance, we see an interesting amalgamation of south Indian and north Indian traditions. The day before Diwali is celebrated as Narak Chaturdashi to mark the defeat of Narakasur by Lord Krishna (just like they do in the south). The day starts with an oil massage but here a special ubtan (scrub), made from sandalwood, camphor, rose, orange skin, turmeric, etc., is used before the ritual bath (called the abhyang-snan here). On Diwali day, however, Maharashtra falls in line with the rest of north India to worship the Goddess Lakshmi, and then set off some – you guessed it! – firecrackers.

In Bengal and some other parts of Eastern India, however, the goddess who is worshipped on this occasion is not Lakshmi but Kali. In fact, the festival is described as Kali Puja rather than Diwali in these parts, and is dedicated to the fierce goddess who killed all the demons in her path (and used their heads to fashion a garland she wears around her neck). When the gods wanted to stop her killing spree, they sent her husband, Lord Shiva, who lay down in her path. In her fury, Kali stepped on him too before realizing her mistake. Which is why she is pictured with her tongue out and her foot on Shiva’s chest. It is this fierce incarnation of the Devi who is worshipped here at midnight, not the benign Lakshmi.

In Gujarat, on the other hand, it is the Goddess of Wealth who reigns supreme on this day. For Gujaratis, Diwali marks the end of the year and the next year is celebrated as Bestu Varas, or New Year’s Day. So, while Diwali is marked with a Lakshmi Puja in the evening, in which the whole family gathers to propitiate the Goddess, the following day is devoted to welcoming in the New Year. It is heralded by the bursting of firecrackers at 4 am (wonder what the Supreme Court will have to say about that!) because of the Hindu belief that the new day begins as dawn. And then begin the endless greetings of ‘Saal Mubarak’ as Gujaratis across the world call to wish each other a Happy New Year.

In Punjab, while the Hindu community follows the standard north Indian pattern of celebrating Diwali with Lakshmi Puja, the Sikhs mark this date because this was when Guru Hargobind, the 6^th Guru, was released from prison by Emperor Jahangir in 1619 along with 52 other princes whose release he secured. The occasion was marked by lighting up the Golden Temple in Amritsar, and that tradition continues to this day. So, when you see the Golden Temple all lit up, remember it’s not Diwali they’re celebrating, it is Bandhi Chhor Diwas (Prisoner Release Day), yet another example of the triumph of good over evil.

But no matter which community is doing the celebrating, fireworks seem to be mandatory on this occasion. So, will the Supreme Court ruling make any difference to how people mark the festival of lights – and increasingly, noise – all over India?

Well, give it a few days and we’ll find out one way or the other. Until then, I wouldn’t hold my breath – unless, of course, I am forced to by all the pollutants in the air.

  

Let there be light...

When it comes to a fight between good and evil, in the end, good will always win

I write this column in the period between Dussehra and Diwali, just as the last Ravanas go up in flames, and as we brace ourselves for the festivities associated with the festival of lights. Since I married into a Gujarati family, Diwali has taken on a greater poignancy for me, as the start of new beginnings, because it marks the Gujarati New Year.

But even as I wait for the assorted ‘Saal Mubaraks’ to roll in from all over the world (seriously, is there any country in the world which doesn’t host a member of our extended clan?) and start the deep-cleanse of the house that is an essential preparation for Diwali, I find that my thoughts keep returning to Dussehra, and its ritual immolation of evil, in the shape of that ten-headed monster, Ravana. And that leads me inexorably to the origins of these festivals: the story of the Ramayana.

These days, the Ram Leela is the most visible reminder of those origins. Dussehra marks the defeat of Ravana (evil incarnate) by Ram, Lakshman and the Vanar Sena (the forces of good). And Diwali is meant to remind us of their triumphant homecoming to Ayodhya, when the entire kingdom celebrated by lighting diyas. And yes, no crackers were destroyed in the celebration of this festival. It was the festival of lights, remember? Not the festival of noise.

Things have changed since the era when that epic story was first told. Now, even in the run-up to Diwali, the crackers get louder and louder. And the festival itself has become more and more commercialized, till it resembles nothing more than an ode to conspicuous consumption (‘Buy a new fridge!’ ‘Gift your wife a diamond!’ ‘Buy gold for your daughter!’ ‘Get yourself a new car!’ The exhortations go on and on and on).

In all this frenzy of buying, buying, buying, we seem to have lost sight of the festival’s origins and its significance in our calendar, even though Dussehra, with its symbolic destruction of evil, should remind us of how it all began. But no, we are too distracted by the shiny objects being dangled in front of us to pay much attention to the myths, the stories, and the lessons they have to teach us.

But can I draw your attention away from the mega-sale in that electronics showroom for a moment and focus on the festivals themselves, both of which remind us of the power of the Ramayana, India’s greatest epic in its depth and sweep. Like the best of Hinduism, this epic can be read on so many levels: as a religious text; as a morality tale; as an adventure story; or even as the kind of mythological saga that enthralls schoolchildren.

Yes, yes, I know, it is not exactly a feminist tale. The fate of Sita and the behavior of Ram towards her seems very problematic to us, from our 21^st century perspectives. But epics like the Ramayana are rooted in the times when they were first created, so critiquing them from a modern perspective is, well, foolish and pointless, to say the least.

But feminist objections apart, I sometimes wonder if we realize how much the Ramayana still impacts our everyday lives. Hindus will, of course, recognize the festivals that emerge out of the Ramayana tradition: Ram Navami, Hanuman Jayanti, Dussehra, and of course, Diwali. But even today, we use the phrase ‘Ram Rajya’ to mean an ideal state, which looks after the interests of every citizen.

Sadly, the Ramayana myth hasn’t always had a positive impact on our politics. It was the conflict over the Ram tradition, and controversy about where Lord Ram was born, that led to one of the most divisive agitations of our time: the battle over the Babri Masjid and the Ramjanmabhoomi. The demolition of the Masjid led to riots all across the country, and the wounds suffered at that time have yet to heal.

But put aside the commercialization of the Diwali and the divisive politics over Ram and think back to the beauty of that legend and you realize how much the Ramayana is integral to our ancient cultural traditions. I was reminded of this recently when I saw scenes from the Ramayana drawn on the walls of temples in Cambodia, dating back to the 10^th century. And, of course, versions of the Ramayana story can be found in Bali, Thailand, and much of East Asia.

In many of these countries, the Ramayana no longer has much religious significance. But it has become part of the cultural heritage they share with India. The main roads in Bangkok, for instance, have some variation of Ram in their names (Rama V or Rama VI) while the Thai kings themselves take on the Rama name. In that sense, the Ramayana is a reminder of how Indian culture has spread through the world.

And yet, as I hear the pre-Diwali crackers starting up, I wonder if we in India, amidst the glitz and the noise, have lost sight of the essential message of the Ramayana: that where there is evil, it is our job to fight it. And that eventually, no matter how great the trials and tribulations, good will always triumph.

In the troubled times we live in, that is a message worth recalling. As long as we fight the good fight, good will always win.