The Education of Diwali’s ‘Saaki’

How often have you found yourself scratching below the surface to look for the significance of something that you have come to take for granted? I found myself doing that very recently when I was asked by my American colleague at work to explain the significance of Diwali. And the results of that exercise left me remarkably surprised.

When I think of Diwali, I remember banana trees, swooshing and swishing the streets as they are piled on the ‘thelas’ and dragged around for sale; the empty bedroom in the house (because everyone is outside celebrating) with a single ‘saaki’ (oil lamp) in front of the Godrej almirah, which having protected my mom’s wedding jewelry for many decades, is our household symbol of wealth; the pleasures of hunting and hoarding new types of firecrackers every year; the charred smell of burned fingers from those firecrackers exploding in my hands; and at the end of it all, that inescapable sad realization that I have finally run out of all my firecrackers and for one more year its time to say goodbye to Diwali.

All those memories ran through my head in rapid succession as I looked for an answer in response to my American colleague’s query - why over 800 million Indians all over the world have celebrated Diwali for centuries. My answer could have dwelt on the war and the ultimate victory of Rama over Ravana – its more popular mythological angle. However, given that it constituted of kidnapped wives, shape-shifters and flying chariots, I was not quite sure that answer would be appreciated in the context of the century that we live in. So I decided to revisit every memory in my mind that was attached with Diwali. And the memory that stood out was that of the single ‘saaki’ burning bright and strong in a pitch-dark room in front of the Godrej almirah. Visually, the aesthetics of the image associated with that memory has always been very pleasing. For purely romantic reasons, that piece of memory became, in my search for the significance of Diwali, my prime object of exploration. And what did that exploration offer?

A lonesome ‘saaki’ burns, obstinately and might I add, foolishly, to shed its enshrouding darkness. In fighting the darkness of a giant empty room, how far can a single ‘saaki’ go? Perhaps not too far, but isn’t that where lay the poignant beauty of a virtue so quintessentially human, only now, demonstrated by the audacious act of an insignificant, inconsequential ‘saaki’: to burn bright, to burn strong, to burn dauntlessly, to burn without limits, to aspire against odds to fight the towering darkness that looms large. It is this education, I said to my colleague, that is the essence of Diwali. To take self-driven bold actions to deal with life’s challenges and to flash and glow at the triumph of having taken charge to effect a change.

“This is not about fake optimism”, said the American, “this is about being grounded in reality, being aware of the problems and taking a shot at them head-on” - he had his answer. But as he walked away, I realized that I had just discovered, in this very old Hindu tradition, sparks of romantic heroism that inspires action over inaction and leaves us with hope, a hope that inspires dreams for a better tomorrow.