Picture this.
You’re standing in a beautiful garden at night, liveliness in every single corner you see, children running around, music slowly capturing your soul. The breeze flows past you, and as you take a deep breath, you inhale cool, sweet air. You are surrounded by people making conversation with each other, the lively chatter adding to your happiness. You run to your people, people who love you, people with whom you belong. You’re seeing a different side of someone tonight, the usually uptight, strict neighbors, unleashing their young teenager, dancing without a single care in the world, singing at the top of their voices! And you slowly join them.
Now wake up.
It's all gone.
What you just imagined, was my reality for one night. One magical night, one magical holiday, my last one, although I didn’t know at the time.
This was Diwali.
These are the people I left behind.
This was the life I had.
When most foreigners hear about Diwali, they always imagine people making extravagant food, lighting candles, chanting mantras, and celebrating Rama.
I’m not saying that they’re wrong. They're absolutely right.
But what they don’t know is that Diwali is not just about celebrating God.
It's not just about food.
It's not just about traditions.
Diwali is about celebrating each other, the company, and our journey. It is a time to celebrate the new and old.
And no one, not a single person who celebrates Diwali, will ever be able to describe the loss of it in full detail.
I’ll try my best, though.
You see, when October rolls around in India, every single shop will be stocked with candles, decorations, door decor, and rangoli. Not to mention the clothes. Every clothes store/boutique, and I mean every, will be full of festive dresses and massive discounts. Yet you will see mothers and wives haggling for more discounts, somehow changing the price from 3,000 rupees (33 dollars) to 500 rupees (5 dollars). To this day, I still don’t know how they do it!
However, at the same time in America, its Halloween rollin’ around. There are costumes everywhere, “Spooky Scary Discounts,” on everything. You won’t see mothers and wives haggling about prices here. It’s quiet, it's controlled and it's monotone.
I’m not trying to diss American culture. America has a beautiful history, and I happen to love Halloween too, who wouldn’t?
What I’m saying is, to someone who has had her entire life around the beautiful chaos that is India, America can be well… a little quiet.
Second, formality.
You can bet that in India, “formality,” is forgotten when it comes to festivals. Stranger? Who cares? If you’re alone, you’re sad, you don’t have any family, you can bet that the least someone will do is talk to you, say Hi, because Hey, why should anyone be left out on a festival?
In America, it's all you, no one else. It’s true that it develops independence, it helps you think for yourself, but it's a very sudden change for someone like me.
And, sometimes, when you can’t talk about your culture to someone, can’t relate with someone, you feel like giving up. I was extremely lucky, because my parents were with me, but it doesn’t make that big of a difference. You need someone your age, someone to gossip with, someone who isn’t blood related to you. You need someone to whom you can say, “OMG, I swear, my family is always like this,” and for them to say, “I know, right? Same!”
It was so hard for the first few months, but if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it's that you always end up with your people. Sure, you obviously could have other friends, but you are the closest to them. It’s a connection that could never be severed, at least while you are there.
Here I am trying to connect myself to the place I am in while my heart yearns for the chaos, the festivity, the loudness of India.