For the last few days, every time I speak to my mother on the phone, she has been urging me to buy new clothes for self and husband. We are driving to Chennai to be with my parents for Deepavali and tradition at our home demands that we have new clothes for the day. Looking at the clothes tumbling out from my cupboard each time I open, it, I had resolved not to buy anything new for a year atleast (or the next time I moan, I have nothing to wear, whichever is earlier – and you know which will be).
As a kid, I used to look forward to Deepavali, weeks in advance. Any festival, for that matter. Navaratri (Dusshera), Krishna Jayanti (Janmashtami), Pongal, Ganesh Chaturti – each had its own special flavour. New clothes, good food, home-made snacks and sweets and that extra something that marked the festival.
Deepavali was especially fun. We went shopping specially for the day – Deepavali purchase ellam aacha? (shopping for D day all done?) was a standard question one’s relatives and neighbours asked.
My grandmother would make a list of bhakshanam (snacks) to be made that year at home (store-bought snacks and sweets were unheard of – what were the women of the house for?). My mother would take off from work a day or two before the festival just to join my grandmother in the kitchen. And we would spend all day in the kitchen, me helping knead the murukku dough or rolling into tiny marbles those melt-in-the-mouth seedai. And we were not allowed to eat anything before the actual festival day – only after the morning naivedyam.
And Deepavali was one day we cousins would be up all up early (somewhat like Calvin waking up his parents barely after midnight on Christmas morning). An early morning round of crackers, followed by the “oil bath” and new clothes and off again to the streets for more crackers. And carrying boxes and trays of bakshanam to neighbouring houses. And lamps in the evening. And that warm after-glow of Deepavali that would last for days and even weeks, long after the sweets have all been consumed.
And now? I hurriedly picked up some wax diyas to take home, picked out a kurta I have not yet worn and begged my husband to buy himself a new t-shirt. No sweets for either of us, I have told my mother, to her dismay.
Where has all that anticipation gone? And the joy? Is this just me or is it a more jaded world out there? (Just me, going by how much people seem to be spending just on jewellery and electronics this season!) Smaller families. Distance with the closest neighbours. Clothes bought at will any time of the year. Ditto with festive food and snacks. What is it that sets a festival day apart (except for a holiday from work)?
Anyway. I am going to bring some sparkle back into my Deepavali. I will light a lamp (even if just wax) for someone I love. Feed someone who needs to be fed. Give away clothes I do not need or use, much of it looking almost new. Donate money to a cause I support.
And here is wishing you a wonderful Deepavali – and new ways to make your festival sparkle.
and a happy diwali to you too — off to lonavala, where the air might be slightly less polluted for Diwali
I agree, with more possibilities today of buying, eating and doing things that we could do only on festival days, it still makes a difference to think of all those who are excluded and marginlized – the best way to celebrate!
I remember my childhood days when Diwali was the only time of the year when one could hope of buying clothes, because, one could not simply afford to buy new clothes every month like we can today.
Times have really changed and buying at the time of Diwali is more symbolic then fun.