When it comes to Diwali, and most things, let’s be honest, I come from a place where bigger is better. Maybe it’s Indian. Maybe it’s two perfect storms.
To celebrate my favorite holidays, the Festival of Lights and the start of the new year, not one inch of my apartment is festive. From hand-painted diyas, to marigold garlands, floral tranes, lotus candlesticks, and dozens of flameless tealight candles, we go all out to prepare our homes for Diwali. But it wasn’t always this way.
Growing up in northern Jersey in the 80’s and 90’s, our celebrations were small, mostly centered around friends of our parents and their children, the people who celebrated Diwali. We performed in cultural shows in our high school auditorium, often playing lead roles, but we never invited our school friends over to see the performance. I have kept the Indian part of my identity hidden: fluency in my native language, love for Indian clothes, ability to dance with Thanka to Bollywood beats, indeed our mighty god Statue of. I was too embarrassed to share.
So I didn’t.
Fast forward to today and I’m rearranging the furniture in my Hoboken apartment to accommodate the nearly 100 people who come and go here on Diwali. Friends and neighbors, family members, teachers, soccer and gym buddies, local business owners and many other people we love stop by to celebrate with us. and connect again. Some people try Indian food for the first time. Others see in us a mirror that reflects their home and family.
I watch my soon-to-be nine-year-old daughter Sathya wear her new Indian outfit to show off her fit and family to her friends.
It is this very scene – the party, the pride and the sheer, unadulterated joy of Diwali – that has inspired my new book, My Diwali Light. In the story, Devi is preparing to celebrate Diwali. And her favorite part of the holidays are the big parties held at her apartment. Her mom hangs strings of marigolds and her Nani draws Diya with her. Each detail of the story is a true detail of my own life, a new tradition that I have created with Satya.
Celebrating holidays is a very personal thing.
The way we celebrate today is different from how my ancestors celebrated Diwali.My grandparents are refugees and my parents are immigrants. Resilience, resilience and reinvention are in our blood. So when it comes to tradition, Sathya and I are so creative and innovative, redefining celebration that we feel it’s important to First Generation Indian Americans and us, their daughters. Roots spread widely and firmly across continents and oceans.
Spend less time worrying about what’s “traditional” and stay focused on what matters. Our table is full of Indian food, but next to Mitai is Macaron too. Our favorite bakery, Baking, because it doesn’t feel like a celebration without sweets from her mama. Diwali for us is much less religious and much more cultural than others. It brightens us up and brings us a bliss that we hope will last into the new year.
Diwali is a festival of lights and for me it is more about the inner light than the beautiful diyas and twinkling lights that adorn my space. and burn brighter than ever. And remember to shine it on Diwali, and always.
Raakhee Mirchandani is the author of ‘My Diwali Light’, ‘Hair Twins’, ‘Super Satya Saves the Day’ and the upcoming ‘She Persisted: Kalpana Chawla’.she invites you to follow her on instagram @RaakstarWrites or visit her website RaakstarWrites.com.
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