Happy Diwali…or Divali…or Deepavali…the festival of lights

Yet again, tales abound about the origins and focus of the holiday (Celebrate Durga? Honor Krishna, who in his dwarf incarnation, vanquished Bali?  Welcome to your home Laxshmi, goddesss of wealth, who only delivers if you clean thoroughly (got that, Jonathan and Kelsey??...we do return home in 4 weeks…) Proclaim the victory of good over evil? Exalt inner light? Glorify the underlying reality of all things? Or maybe just paint the town crimson/saffron/lapis/lime/magenta for all of it? )  What we do know is that a few elements are ubiquitous: explosions of glowing lanterns, colored lights, mini oil lamps, stacks and stacks of sweets, and fireworks galore.

Most families do a puja (pooja?) –a prayer or blessing—before dinner on the first night, the next night some wives do a puja for their husbands asking Laxshmi to protect and provide, and on the third night, a sister might do a puja for her brother—the men return the favor with gifts of gold and diamonds (you on that one, John?) But traditions vary wildly. According to the newspaper, a tribe outside of Pune stacks up bales of hay which their bullocks jump over—given the pace these guys move through the streets, it would take an intervention from Durga to make that one happen!   Mangala tells me “Never believe anything you read in the Times of India!”  

The rangoli is another Divali tradition that seems pretty widespread, and it’s easy to see why.  An elaborate decoration in colored powders or sands, a rangoli can take hours to produce but will disappear with a breeze or a late monsoon rain, a bit like the Buddhist mandala, with which we were more familiar.  Last night we bought a couple of stencils and some bright powders after watching this fellow demonstrate. It's a bit tough to see from the picture, but the circles to his right are multi-colored sand designs, stencils scattered in front.

As it turns out, even with a ready-made pattern, this isn’t easy. We may start by practicing on the dining table before heading out to the street.  We don’t want to disappoint the crowd that is sure to gather…

 Here is a full-scale 10' wide rangoli at the entrance to a temple--no stencils used here. 

Roopa’s driver, Frances—a Christian—tells us Divali is all about shopping.  And he may have a point, given the plethora of ads, billboards, and sales up everywhere.  Divali accounts for the largest percentage of new cars sold in India each year.  A KPMG partner tells us that economists need to adjust their models to dampen the effect of “auspicious buying” and deal with the inevitable spike in purchasing that happens around this time.   Major corporations and small businesses distribute their bonuses, and domestic help expect baksheesh to come their way as well.  So, to get into the spirit of this side of Divali, last night we headed to Crawford Market—never ones to miss a shopping opportunity J

The cool of the evening on this festive eve of Divali brings out the best in everyone.   The market teems with last minute shoppers, hunting for lanterns, garlands, painted statues of Laxshmi and fireworks—so many fireworks!  A friend tells us likens them to the insects in India: enormous.  What Indians consider fit for personal consumption rival many American municipalities' shows on our 4^th of July.  All over Bombay, families take to their rooftops to light up the night sky;  sparks and ashes rein down everywhere.  The occasional errant rocket that zooms into a neighbor’s open window is brushed off with smiles on all sides, and a friendly, “No worries.  Happy Divali!”

All politics is local…and opportunistic.  The large banners and enormous lanterns hanging over the streets bear holiday greetings from Shiv Sena, a political party which runs on the platform of Marathi-first…and only.  All their materials from billboards to website appear only in Marathi, the local language of the state of Maharashtra.  Shiv Sena is responsible for the renaming of Victoria Train Station (Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus--yes, that's a double H--in honor of the Maratha warrior) and Bombay (Mumbai);  Frances, a Christian from Goa, refuses to refer to these by their Marathi names—a personal protest against Shiv Sena’s xenophobic views.  They tend to be closely allied with the BJP, the controversial Hindu Nationalist party, and both parties have come under scrutiny for violence against non-Hindus.  On the local side, Frances is denied his dream of becoming a long-distance bus driver because the license for a non-Marathi resident would require too large a bribe.