Diwali

So, Diwali was last weekend. Or well, perhaps I should say that the Diwali celebration was last weekend, because Diwali as a whole is something I have been hearing about every day in one form or another ever since I got here, three and a half weeks ago.

I knew about Diwali before arriving, which is to say that I knew it was the Hindu festival of light, celebrated by lighting candles and wearing fine clothes. What I was not aware of was the sheer scope of the thing! Now that I’ve witnessed it first hand, I’ve begun to think of it as the Hindu version of Christmas, in terms of social and commercial significance. That is to say, the social idea of Diwali is to spend time with one’s family and loved ones, doing traditional things and generally celebrating quietly within the home. The commercial ideal, on the other hand, is that everybody should spend as much money as possible (and ideally more) to ‘make this Diwali the most festive ever!’ Ads for Diwali-related items are discounts are everywhere you look – TV, magazines, billboards – and almost always feature airbrushed people in expensive party clothes, with a few candles scattered around the edges for effect. In almost every case, you could replace ‘Diwali’ with ‘Christmas’ and quite likely no one would ever know the difference.

There are other similarities, too. One is the sudden appearance of charity volunteers selling trinkets to raise money, just before the main event, and the equally sudden desire of virtually every passer-by to buy something. For my own part, I bought a set of two terracotta diyas (small lamps used to celebrate the festival) decorated with silver paint, which will do beautifully for Christmas (see?) at the charity stall set up in the canteen at work one day, a pair of traditional cards with – again – imagery that could easily pass for Christmas at the same stall, and a tiny candle in a clay pot at the entrance to the SGS Mall one day, mostly because it didn’t occur to me to give the money while refusing the candle.

And speaking of malls, the shops certainly do their bit to join in! Ever since I arrived, almost every one of them has had special Diwali offers coming out of their ears. Most also set up a table at the entrance, brightly decorated and full of suitably festive items (is this ringing any bells), and many shops that don’t generally sell foodstuffs offer sweets and chocolates in elaborate gift boxes, at three times the normal price. I noticed a golden and purple Cadbury’s box in particular that looked suspiciously like some marketing person had just removed the ‘Merry Christmas’ text and replaced it with ‘Happy Diwali’ (or maybe it started out as ‘Happy Diwali’ and got replaced by ‘Merry Christmas’, who knows?). I don’t think the font had even been changed!

The decorations are similar, too. In theory they aren’t supposed to be, but in practice it’s exactly the same shiny tinsel paper that gets used, albeit in different colours (basically, all of them). They do have some lovely traditional lanterns, though, quite large and made from brightly-coloured cloth. I think I might try to get one to take home with me.

There is one major point that sets Diwali apart from Christmas, though, and that is the attitude people take to it. I hadn’t really noticed until last Friday, but it really struck me.

Friday was the most important day of the celebration, and we all had to work. In the days before, people had been decorating, and when I say decorating, I don’t mean buying a little plastic tree for the team and calling it a day. I mean serious decorating. We had lanterns of every shape and size hanging from the ceiling, as well as everywhere else people could manage to hook them on. Brightly coloured garlands were drawn up from the desks to give the impression of little pavilions, and miles of sparkly tinsel were stuck along every available surface. It was very impressive.

When the big day finally came, I dressed up a bit, but didn’t go so far as to wear Indian clothes for the occasion. I hadn’t (and still haven’t) got around to purchasing any, and, when it occurred to me that wearing a sari or something might be a good idea, it was already Thursday and I was told the shops would be a nightmare, worse than on Christmas Eve. According to one of my fellow travellers, that turned out to be absolutely true, but when I got in and realised just how much effort everyone was making, I found myself kind of wishing that I had braved it anyway. Still, my beaded top and long skirt did have a vaguely Indian feel to them, so I did sort of fit in.

The day itself was fairly uneventful, at least for me. The group had ordered a special lunch, and specifically asked for a mild portion for me, which I thought was very considerate. Unfortunately, the caterer’s interpretation of ‘non-spicy’ turned out to be rather different than mine, but what I did manage had a wonderful underlying flavour (the problem was that the overlying one was FIRE). Someone also gave me a Diwali gift, a glass mug full of Cadbury’s Eclairs (which I am currently eating) and pieces of white chocolate. Gift-giving is apparently not a traditional aspect of Diwali, which focuses more on sharing token snacks and sweets, but I’m told it’s beginning to creep in, at least in middle class circles.

Anyway, as I said, nothing particularly special took place for me, but what I noticed more and more as the day went on was how joyful people seemed. Not just a few, either; pretty much everyone I met throughout the day appeared to be genuinely, honestly happy that it was Diwali, and that they would shortly be going home to celebrate with their families. It made for a sharp contrast with the West, where so often people put a ridiculous amount of money and effort into Christmas, while at the same time managing to completely fail to enter into the spirit of the thing. I think I like the Indian way better (which is not to say that a fully decked-out Christmas tree with a mound of colourful presents underneath is not one of my favourite sites in the world…).

After work, I went back to the hotel and didn’t do a whole lot until dinner. I was faffing about on the internet when It started. From about half past six, just after it got properly dark, until God only knows what wee hour of the morning, I was treated to a non-stop display of fireworks from across the city. It sounded like war had broken out outside my window!

In honour of the occasion, I decided to eat in the hotel’s Indian restaurant. I hadn’t tried it yet, and honestly have no great desire to do so again, for various reasons. Still, the food was good, although I was a bit disappointed to find that my suckling lamb shank had more bone than meat on it (and the bone wasn’t very big). Nevertheless, it was quite tasty, and I had a conversation with my neighbour who recommended that I try another local hotel restaurant, where they will give you a meal consisting of samples of a wide range of Indian foods.

After dinner, I was back in my room, and beginning to think about going to bed, when I began to realise that the fireworks outside had suddenly got a lot closer. When a very bright yellow-white one exploded right outside my window, I finally realised that I was witnessing the hotel’s own fantastic display! I say finally because, up until that moment, I hadn’t realised that the hotel was going to have a display. I suppose I should have expected it – what brand new five-star hotel would miss a chance to show off? – but I didn’t, and, as it turns out, I wasn’t alone. See, the hotel had adopted the same attitude that stops fancy restaurants putting prices on the menus – the philosophy that goes something along the lines of ‘having to actually tell people about things is so plebeian, our clientele are expected to know, and if they don’t, well then, it just reflects poorly on them’. Unfortunately, while this attitude may work for Michelin-hopefuls, it doesn’t translate over to fireworks displays all that well, and the end result of not telling anyone about it was that no one turned up.

It was a pity, really – it was a beautiful display, easily one of the best I’ve seen, and obviously cost a fortune. I’m quite sure that no one – or at least, not more than a very small handful of people, at the most – went to see it, because I have a great view of the terrace/pool area from my window, and, crane my head as I might, I could not see a single person down there, other than the attendants. The other terrace is on the other side of the hotel, so unless there’s a rooftop one I’ve never found, I don’t see where people could have been watching from. For myself, I had a great view, much better than I would have had had I gone down to the pool, since I was almost level with a lot of the explosions. They had some really fabulous ones, too.

So that was my Diwali. I’ve been seeing fireworks over the city every night since, but they’ve begun to taper off these last few days. I’m not sure exactly when the festival officially finishes, but the season is obviously drawing to a close. I’m really glad I got to experience it – it was quite exciting, and very interesting to see how similar these ‘togetherness’ celebrations really are across cultures.