My husband is from Tamil Nadu and was raised in the Hindu tradition, so we observe a variety of holidays from that faith. This morning we celebrated Divali, a major festival that centers on banishing darkness and vanquishing evil. In India, it’s celebrated by pretty much the entire country, across many faiths, and the markets often get a boost from it. This is an excellent summary.
Our observance is relatively simple: We prepare the altar with offerings of fruit, raisins, almonds, sweetened milk with cardamom in it, new clothes, and images of gods and goddesses. We light an oil lamp (most families light a huge number of clay lamps), pray, and go outside to light sparklers. Then we shower, put on the new clothes, light a tablet of camphor and a stick of incense, pray again, drink the milk and eat the raisins and almonds, and go outside again to light more sparklers. At some point we anoint our heads with oil — I think just before the first round of sparklers — but I can’t recall precisely.
The baby will be nine months old this week, so accomplishing all of this around his morning schedule was tricky, and by the end of it he was overtired. It didn’t help that I didn’t realize the top of his Divali outfit (pictured above; a gift from his Indian grandma) didn’t open until I went to put it on him. A few cries of protest were uttered as I worked it over his head and maneuvered his arms through the holes (the fabric, though gorgeous, has no give to it).
But I’m confident he’ll remember the flames and the sparklers more than the wardrobe wrestling match. He’s always been attentive during rituals, and is of course entranced by fire — add sparks, and you have a very happy baby. I know I’ll always remember the rapt look on his face when I think of this day.
And next year, I’ll check the outfit before the big day arrives.
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