Diwali Then vs. Diwali Now

This year, my husband and I were celebrating our "Thala Diwali" (Tamil tradition for first Diwali post-marriage) so we wanted to make it special. Typically for Diwali, we try to make an Indian meal and light some sparklers together, but it rarely feels as festive as it should. So we decided to visit my family in New Jersey, made sure our siblings and friends were available, and did all the traditions: lights, sparklers, mutton curry, etc. Even though these traditions weren't new for our family, we all unanimously agreed that this was the first time Diwali in our house felt like a true holiday.

The last time I celebrated a real Diwali was when in the year 2000 when my family was temporarily living in India before we moved to the United States. The streets were colorfully illuminated, firecrackers exploded in every direction, and sweets were served in various color and shape. It was my first year celebrating in India with my entire family and it completely lived up to the hype. Diwali 2001, however, was a polar opposite experience. I already expected it to be a letdown since we had moved to the U.S. just a couple months prior and it wouldn't be the same as celebrating in India, but my parents still attempted to make it special. We put up lights in our apartment, got new clothes, and made sweets. The actual holiday fell on a school day so my mom suggested I share our celebration with my classmates, even if most of them weren't aware of what Diwali was; this could be their opportunity to learn. She bought me a box of munchkins from Dunkin Donuts and explained to my teacher that this was an important holiday for us so we just wanted to follow our tradition of sharing sweets with others. My teacher graciously accommodated but requested that I share it with the class myself.

I shifted nervously in my seat as she announced to the class that we had a special morning treat courtesy of my family for an Indian holiday. Then she called me up to the front and I stood there with my box of munchkins, saying something along the lines of "Diwali is the festival of lights. In India we have a lot of fireworks and share sweets."

Almost immediately, the only other Indian student in the class, Daniel, said, "I already know about this holiday" and turned his head back to his desk. I had naively expected that maybe he would help me explain but it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with my little show and tell.

"Why is it celebrated?" someone asked.

I knew it originated to celebrate lord Rama's return as king after his victory over the demon Raavan, but these were the same people who thought "Hindu" was a language and made fun of my "forehead dot". So I decided to leave all that out and kept it vague with, "to celebrate good over evil."

Some of them stared at me like they couldn't believe I could get any weirder than I already was but most of them just seemed eager for the munchkins. My teacher encouraged the class to wish me a happy Diwali and I hurried back to my desk hoping this would never be mentioned again.

Reflecting back on this memory now, I can identify that it wasn't necessarily embarrassment, but self-consciousness that I felt. Standing in the front of the class and talking about a holiday that no one else knew about just made me feel even more like an outcast than I already did at that time. I also realize that the American born-Indian boy was probably named "Daniel" to fit in and here I was, making it known that having an American name doesn't take away from the fact that he and I come from the same culture. It's not surprisingly that he didn't want to be associated with me in any capacity, in case I dragged him down with me.

Whether it was Diwali, Navratri, or Pongal, my parents continued to maintain holiday traditions throughout my childhood in America, but I simply could not get excited about celebrating holiday in such a lackluster and isolated way. Would Christmas feel just as magical if there wasn't an entire season of holiday lights, cheer, and decorations and nobody else even knew what it was? So I (silently) questioned why my parents still bothered upholding all these traditions despite them rarely feeling special and making us feel even more like outcasts. Today I'm glad that they did because even if the change is gradual, it is real and it does make a difference.

Thanks to families proudly carrying on their traditions instead of shying away from them, we actually do have better representation in our communities. I may have had to endure an awkward show and tell when I was in elementary school but today, the same school districts have Diwali as a day off (shoutout to New Jersey!). My company newsletter for November included an announcement about it and some offices even hosted celebrations for employees. In recent years I've also seen non-Indians participating in celebrations. So when I think about my 2023 Diwali compared to 2001 Diwali, and what made them so drastically different, it's true that society has changed a lot and there's much more awareness about the holiday than there used to be. However, I believe what made an even bigger difference was my own attitude: I wanted to treat it like a special occasion and therefore, it felt like one.

I hope that in the future if children want to share a cultural holiday with their classmates, it could happen without experiencing judgement or rejection, but as we make progress towards a more inclusive society, it's important that those of us who belong to the minority embrace and share the cultural things that make us unique instead of dismissing them.