Let there be light

Celebrating Diwali in the times of Corona can be more fun than you think

I bet that when the Covid 19 alarm bells began ringing around March, you did not think that the Coronavirus would still be keeping us housebound and away from our extended family as Diwali came around.

And yet, here we are!

Today is the day when, in normal times, we would be calling on friends and family with some mithai, perhaps a bottle of champagne, or maybe even a present or two to wish them ‘Happy Diwali’. But given the special circumstances this year, it’s only the most foolhardy – or dare I say it, foolish – among us who would dare socialize while there is a real and present danger that our actions could spread the virus even further. And given the air pollution that we are struggling with – and which, doctors say, makes fighting Covid even more difficult – it would be downright criminal to let off even a single firecracker.

So, how does one celebrate Diwali in the midst of a pandemic?

Well, here are just a few suggestions that I hope will help you get into the festive spirit.

•       Play dress up. This is the best part of Diwali for me. The opportunity to pull out a beautiful sari that has been sulking in my closet for years and allow it to sparkle and shine as it finally gets an airing. Did I hear you say that it would be pointless to make an effort with your appearance given that no one is watching? Well, silly, that’s why social media was invented. Post your pictures on Instagram, tagging all your friends, encourage them to do the same, and form a mutual admiration society that will give all the validation you need – and more.

•       Yes, I know, we are pretty much Zoomed out from those endless work calls and webinars, not to mention online classes. But this is the one time that getting all your family and friends together on a video call would actually be fun. You can check out the decorations in each other’s homes, you can tell your cousin how cute her baby daughter looks in a ghaghra choli, you can even share a Diwali meal, even if all of you are eating it at your respective dining tables miles apart.

•       I have never been much for card games, but I get that for some people Diwali is incomplete without a few hours of teen patti. Well, the good news is that you can play online as well, getting all your usual card partners into a virtual room, where you try your luck against each other. Just don’t play for very high stakes, because it’s not nice to clean anyone out on Diwali. And remember in case you lose, you mustn’t be disheartened. Those who are unlucky with cards are believed to be very lucky in love!

•       Keep up with your family Diwali traditions, even if you might have to modify them a bit this year. For some reason, my mother always made an immense pot of mattar pulao for Diwali dinner, and this year I will remember her as I recreate that dish from memory. I won’t be inviting all my neighbors over to dig in – as she would – because, you know, Covid. But just eating it in her memory will be enough. And, of course, like her I will do a special puja for Lakshmi Mata, praying that she blesses us with peace and prosperity, chanting the same words of the aarti that she knew by heart, and I have to read off a book.

•       I know that your home is probably heaving with packets of mithai, dry fruit and hampers full of goodies dropped off by friends, family and neighbors. But just because your dining table is drowning in kaju barfi, macaroons and besan laddoos, there is no reason why you must eat it all. Spread the joy by distributing it to your staff and those who work in your building.  Carry some in your car and drive to the
nearest intersection where there are kids begging for food. Watching their faces light up will light up your Diwali as well.

Wear your attitude

And anything you damn well please…that’s the whole point of personal style

When I was growing up, there was an infallible way to tell when a woman had gotten married. She gave up on childish things like frocks and dresses, put away her jeans and skirts, and adopted the salwar-kameez or the sari as her uniform of choice. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t always by choice. Sometimes it was dictated by conservative in-laws, on occasion it was the husband who didn’t want her to dress ‘Western’ now that she was married, and at times it was just unspoken societal pressure. That was how married women were supposed to look: all wrapped up decorously in a sari, or a salwar-kameez at a push. And most married women complied, no matter what their private feelings on the matter.

I am happy to report, however, that this is no longer the case. Marriage no longer spells the end of edgy or even sexy dressing. Women, or at least urban women of a certain class, can continue to wear what they like even after they have that ring on that finger (or the mangalsutra around the neck). Nobody looks on with shock/horror if a married woman accessorizes her chuda with tight jeans or a short skirt. In fact, nobody so much as bats an eyelid.

Never was this brought home to me more forcibly than when my newly-wedded niece was taken shopping by her mother-in-law. My niece gravitated towards the churidar-kurtas, thinking this was an appropriate choice given that mum-in-law was paying. But even as she was riffling through them, she felt an urgent tug on her shoulder. It was her mother-in-law, who had found an outfit she thought would look amazing on her new daughter-in-law. It was a short, sleeveless, patterned dress with a halter neck. 

But it’s not just young, newly-married women who are dressing differently these days, eschewing conservative choices for more modern ones. It is women of all ages, all social classes, all shapes and sizes, and from all over the country. It is no longer unusual to see a young mother in a short dress or even a grandmother in trousers. Jeans have become a great equalizer, being worn by women young and old, with every body type, from all income brackets, and from every region. 

In my case, I have made quite the opposite journey. In my teenage years, I could not wait to get into the sari. Even the act of draping it in front of a full-length mirror made me feel ineffably grown-up. As a young professional in my first job, the sari’s natural grace and elegance helped me negotiate the new and tricky world of the workplace from within the security of its folds. It made me look like and act like a responsible adult even when deep down inside I didn’t really feel like one. The perfect camouflage, in fact, for faking it until I finally made it.

Now that I can class myself as a ‘woman of a certain age’, I still wear the sari. But now it is when I want to have fun and play dress-up, having tired of my everyday uniform of jeans and shirts. And sometimes I treat the sari like a secret weapon in the armoury of my wardrobe, to be deployed when I particularly want to impress. It is pulled out on special occasions, like formal dinners, weddings, or at important professional engagements when I want to feel the same security I felt as a young journalist starting out.

But for the rest of the time, my wardrobe has actually gotten younger as I have gotten older. These days I live in fuss-free, knee-length, crush-proof dresses that I can pull out of my closet (or increasingly, my suitcase) and step into without all that starching and ironing that cotton saris, or even churidar kurtas, require. There is none of the palaver of figuring out what goes with what, none of that nightmare called colour coordination. It’s simplified dressing at its best: pull on a dress, slip on a pair of flats, stick on the sunglasses, a slash of eyeliner, a dab of lipstick, and you are good to go.

Did I hear you mention the words ‘mutton dressed as lamb’? Ah yes, I thought so. But you know what, the best part of growing older and becoming comfortable in my skin (not to mention my dress) is that I no longer care what you think of me, my clothes, my sense of style, or for that matter, my bare arms. I will wear what I like, thank you very much. And in the famous words of Rhett Butler, I really don’t give a damn (what you think about it).

And I am rapidly coming around to the view that, no matter what your age, this is the key to personal style: it has to be a personal choice (not made on the basis of the diktats of some fashion magazine); and you have to own it, no matter what other people may think (or say) about it. Feel like wearing a sari? Do it. Want the comfort of a pair of lived-in jeans? Knock yourself out. You’d rather live in a dress? Go right ahead. 

There is no one you need to please but yourself. Tell yourself that the next time you go shopping. It will make things so much simpler.