By T N Ashok
NEW YORK: From the temples and homes of India to the White House, 10 Downing Street and the great cities of Europe, Diwali has transcended religion to become a universal celebration of light, hope, fellowship and the triumph of good over evil.
There is something extraordinary about Diwali that is difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is not merely a religious festival, nor is it simply an occasion for lighting lamps, exchanging gifts, distributing sweets and bursting firecrackers. It is an emotion, a civilisational memory and a remarkable expression of India’s cultural pluralism.
For hundreds of millions of Hindus, it is among the most sacred days of the year. For millions of others across different faiths and nationalities, it has become an occasion to celebrate friendship, family, prosperity and the enduring human desire to see light overcome darkness.
What began as an ancient Indian religious observance has travelled across continents. Today, Diwali is celebrated in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Sydney and Johannesburg. Its lamps illuminate public buildings, its colours brighten city squares, and its message finds resonance far beyond the boundaries of Hinduism.
Indeed, Diwali is increasingly becoming to the Indian diaspora what Christmas is to much of the Western world: a season of family reunions, generosity, festivities and communal goodwill.
Diwali, derived from the Sanskrit Deepavali, meaning a row or series of lamps, is celebrated over five days, with the principal day falling on the new moon of the Hindu lunar month of Kartika, usually in October or November. Its religious significance is layered, reflecting the extraordinary diversity of Hindu traditions.
For many North Indians, Diwali commemorates the return of Lord Rama to Ayodhya after fourteen years of exile and his victory over Ravana. The people of Ayodhya, according to the Ramayana, illuminated their homes and streets with rows of oil lamps to welcome their beloved king. The lighting of diyas thus became a symbolic reenactment of that homecoming and the triumph of righteousness over evil.
For devotees of Goddess Lakshmi, Diwali is the night when the goddess of wealth, prosperity and good fortune is worshipped. Businesses open new account books, families seek blessings for financial well-being, and homes are cleaned and decorated to welcome prosperity.
In parts of eastern India, particularly Bengal, the occasion is associated with the worship of Goddess Kali, representing the destruction of evil and the power of the divine feminine.
For many in southern India, the celebrations are closely associated with Lord Krishna’s destruction of the demon Narakasura. In Tamil Nadu, the festival is marked by an early morning oil bath, new clothes, prayers, sweets and the bursting of crackers.
Jains observe Diwali as the anniversary of Lord Mahavira’s attainment of nirvana, while Sikhs associate the occasion with the release of Guru Hargobind from imprisonment at Gwalior Fort. For some Buddhist communities, particularly among Newar Buddhists in Nepal, the period has its own cultural and religious significance. One festival, therefore, carries multiple histories. Its extraordinary appeal lies partly in its capacity to accommodate them.
To understand Diwali’s emotional hold over Indians, one must understand the country itself. India is home to an astonishing variety of languages, customs, culinary traditions, religious practices and regional identities. Its Constitution recognises 22 scheduled languages, while hundreds of other languages and thousands of dialects are spoken across the country.
Hinduism itself is not organised around a single ecclesiastical authority, a centralised church or one universally prescribed form of worship. Its pantheon includes thousands of divine manifestations, with different regions and communities venerating different deities.
A temple in Tamil Nadu may be dedicated to Shiva or Murugan; one in Odisha to Jagannath; another in Kerala to Ayyappa; and temples across northern India to Rama, Krishna, Durga or Hanuman. Yet the underlying spiritual vocabulary connects these traditions.
The Hindu temple is not simply a place to visit. It is an experience of ritual, memory, community and continuity. The worshipper enters after removing footwear, symbolically leaving the dust of the outside world behind. Feet are washed in some traditions. Prayers are offered before the deity. Vermilion, or kumkum, and sacred ash, vibhuti, are placed on the forehead.
The priest performs the aarti, circling a flame before the deity, usually with a lamp or camphor. Devotees offer prayers, and a coin may be placed on the offering plate. The flame is subsequently received as a blessing.
In many traditional rituals, the priest recites the worshipper’s name, the father’s name, ancestral lineage, gotra — traditionally associated with an ancient Vedic sage — and other details of religious identity.
This ritual invocation connects an individual to generations of family history and a much older spiritual inheritance. It is this continuity between the individual, the family, the community and the divine that gives festivals such as Diwali their extraordinary emotional force.
What makes Diwali particularly interesting is that one does not have to be Hindu to celebrate it. A Muslim neighbour may exchange sweets with a Hindu family. A Christian colleague may attend a Diwali gathering. A Sikh family may illuminate its home. Friends of different backgrounds may come together for a festive meal.
The festival has become an expression of shared cultural belonging rather than an exclusive religious obligation. This is especially visible among Indians living overseas. For the diaspora, Diwali is a powerful reminder of home. It reconnects second- and third-generation Indians with their ancestral culture, even when they have grown up thousands of miles away from India.
Children who may never have lived in India learn about Rama, Lakshmi, Krishna and the significance of the diya. Parents and grandparents pass down recipes, rituals, stories and family traditions. In a world where migration often fragments families and communities, Diwali offers a familiar annual anchor.
The internationalisation of Diwali is one of the most striking cultural developments of recent decades. In the United States, Diwali celebrations have acquired considerable visibility. The White House has hosted Diwali receptions under successive administrations, bringing together Indian-American community leaders, diplomats, elected representatives and prominent citizens. The celebrations have become an acknowledgement of the growing influence of Indian-Americans in American public life, business, technology, academia and politics.
In Britain, Diwali has an especially prominent presence. The annual festivities in Leicester, with their spectacular illuminations and large public gatherings, have become among the best-known Diwali celebrations outside India.
At 10 Downing Street, British prime ministers have hosted Diwali receptions, recognising the contribution of Britain’s Indian-origin population. The festival is also celebrated in Parliament and across communities throughout the country.
Across continental Europe, Indian associations, temples, cultural organisations and diplomatic missions organise celebrations in Paris, Berlin, Rome and other major cities. In France and Germany, Diwali has become an increasingly visible cultural event wherever substantial Indian communities have established themselves.
South and Southeast Asia have their own deep connections with the festival. Nepal celebrates Tihar, a closely related five-day festival. Singapore and Malaysia witness elaborate Diwali celebrations, particularly among their Tamil communities. In Singapore, Little India becomes a dazzling landscape of lights, decorations, markets and cultural performances.
Australia, Canada, South Africa and Mauritius have similarly embraced Diwali as an important feature of their multicultural calendars. Its geographical reach is no longer determined solely by the presence of Hindu temples. It is carried by families, businesses, students, professionals and communities who take their traditions with them wherever they settle.
Yet Diwali’s growing popularity also presents a serious environmental challenge. In India, the celebration is increasingly accompanied by a fierce debate over firecrackers. The patakas, bombs and saravedi of Tamil Nadu, once regarded as indispensable expressions of festive excitement, have become a source of considerable public-health concern.
The problem is particularly acute in Delhi and other densely populated cities, where Diwali coincides with unfavourable winter atmospheric conditions. Smoke, particulate matter and chemical pollutants from firecrackers can push already dangerous pollution levels even higher.
For Indians abroad, the celebrations may be compressed into an evening or a weekend, but their emotional significance is no less profound. Perhaps that is Diwali’s greatest achievement. It has travelled beyond the boundaries of religion, language, geography and nationality without losing its Indian identity.
Its message is beautifully simple: darkness is never permanent; hope can be renewed; prosperity is best enjoyed when shared; and families and communities are stronger when they celebrate together.
The ancient Sanskrit prayer captures this universal aspiration: Asato ma sadgamaya, tamaso ma jyotirgamaya, mrityor ma amritam gamaya. Lead us from untruth to truth, from darkness to light, and from mortality to immortality.
That is the enduring spirit of Diwali. Whether celebrated in a modest Indian village, a glittering Singapore street, a London neighbourhood, a New York apartment or the White House, its lamps carry the same message. Diwali may have been born in India, but its light belongs to the world. (IPA Service)
