A String of Light Appreciating Life- Deepawali
‘Deepawali’ literally means string or garland of ‘diyas’ or lamps. I have seen the Deepawali change over the years. The string of ‘diyas’ made of natural mud that would adorn the roof edges and balconies some decades back had been so much different from the USB supported lights that adorn windows and balconies these days. Looking closely, I find that even the light is different. The natural flickering of golden flame of the ‘diyas’ made of natural mud was so different. I still remember how those faint flames used to strongly fight to stay alive and make the atmosphere bright. There was no other light but that of those naturally made ‘diyas’. Deepawali literally lived its meaning and ‘deepaks’ used to be the real vanquishers of the darkness and show stealers.
The festival of light Deepawali in its literal sense was the festival of Deepawali and not invasion of LED lights and electrical fittings. I remember how carefully my mother used to select hundred of ‘diyas’ perfect in shape to be lighted on the night of Deepawali. On the Diwali day we used to get up looking forward to the night of lights and participate in the event of making strings or garland of diyas. In a very small industrial town of north India where I used to live with my family, it was a grand ritual to prepare ‘diyas’ for lighting. Since we used to live in a large bunglow that had an expansive exterior and boundary to fill each space with ‘diyas’ would require hundreds of earthern ‘diyas’ so the ritual of preparing ‘diyas’ under the expert guidance of my mother, would start right in the afternoon of the day of diwali. After the selection of ‘diyas’, all the ‘diyas’ used to be dunk in the buckets full of water for some time and then taken out and left in the open to dry. I believe this ritual was necessary to make ’diyas’ ready for oil filling. The whole procedure used to take two to three hours and we children with all the house-helps used to take an active part in the process.
After that ‘diyas’ used to be placed in all the places possible. Not a spot was left vacant where a ‘diyas’ could fit. Ladders, stools, chairs were used to reach all the spaces where a ‘diya’ could be placed. The periphery of the whole bungalow, roof edges, verandahs, windowsills, boundary walls every possible place must have a ‘diya’ used to be my mother’s orders and our house-helps were eager to follow her. This used to be one of the days when we children used to get a chance to climb the roof top using the stairs, which was otherwise forbidden. As a young girl I would love to jump around on the roof from one level to another, more interested in enjoying the freedom and access to the roof top and less interested in placing the ‘diyas’. My mother from down below used to keep reminding me to control myself and my enthusiasm. Our enthusiastic house-helps always wanted our bungalow to shine the brightest and look the prettiest, for this they used to adopt innovative ways to place ‘diyas’ by making symmetrical structures out of bricks on the front wall of the bungalow’s roof.
After the placement of ‘diyas’, filling of oil in the ‘diyas’ used to be a big task and then at the setting of the sun when the we would be doing ‘pooja’ inside our house in our fineries and gobbling down ‘prasad’, house-helps would light the ‘diyas’. My grandparents, mother, father, brother along with me would come out to savour the magical feast of the garlands of ‘diyas’. I used to feel like a princess living in a golden palace, who would wish for the night to be forever. I also used to look around me and see the ‘twinkling of diyas ‘in all the other houses and bungalows. I am sure Ayodhya looked as bright as the atmosphere tonight, when Lord Ram came back after ‘Vanvas’. Is he watching us from above and feeling happy that we Earthlings are still celebrating his return and enjoying the day?
After the whole ritual of ‘diya’ lighting, invariably on the night of Diwali, we would all pray for less intensity wind so that our ‘diyas’ can light longer. But how can we stop the natural wind? It would blow, and it would douse the weak flames of ‘diyas’, then we would go and light them up again and again and keep busy in the ritual.
That used to be the real wholesome and unpolluted Deepawali. Every Diwali looking at those beautiful ‘diyas’ making my bungalow look beautiful, I would wonder, at the helplessness of us humans before nature because winds were not in our control, but I used to be so pleased and appreciative of all the effort that we all had put in to make our bungalow beautiful and keep the spirit of ‘Deepawali’ alive. That used to be real ‘Deepawali’ the string of hope, the string of faith and the string of light appreciating life itself!