Diwali Gifts

My father immigrated to the United States in 1969 from a small village in South India. He earned a scholarship to attend college, and was offered an opportunity to complete his PhD in the United States. His marriage to my mother was arranged, based upon one condition, she would only marry him if he agreed to not remain in the US. My mother had spent 8 years of her own childhood living in rural Pennsylvania as her father, my Tata, completed his PhD. She felt fearful of the experiences her minority children might suffer growing up in this country. But alas, my sister and I were born, and they made the courageous decision to remain in the US so their girls could have access to the educational opportunities in this country. They intentionally moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to live near the SV temple, the first Hindu temple in the United States. This temple attracted many immigrants from India and had a growing community of traditional Hindus, all with hopes of finding a sense of connection in the Midwestern suburbs.

Our Indian community in Pittsburgh came to life in Autumn. We celebrated Diwali and Dussehra by spending 9 evenings in a row with friends, singing, praying, chanting, and eating. We decorated the home with dolls for Dussehra and played with sparklers for Diwali. I looked forward to the numerous parties, fancy clothes, delicious food, and amazing friendships.

But when you look past the sparklers of Diwali, the dolls of Dussehra, look past the new clothes, and those yummy samosas and sweets, Diwali and Dussehra meant something much deeper, something much more important. This was a season about connection. See my mom was right, growing up as an ethnic and religious minority in this country was difficult and developing connections at school was a challenge due to increasing fear and isolation. 

Diwali was a season that promised us this sense of connection- a gift far greater than fruit, raisins, or new clothes. Connection to our friends, family, relatives, and ancestors. But also connection to ourselves, our strength, our spirit, our purpose. And through all of those connections, we found that we were not, nor are we ever, alone in our struggles and pain. This connection gave us the strength and courage to lean in to our vulnerability, to our humanity, and embrace our inter-connectedness to this country and our global community.

As we move through this difficult week of tragedy and mass violence, a tragedy so near and dear to my heart as I am the sister of a 2009 survivor of gun violence. I feel certain that I can attest to the fear and isolation that violence and pain creates, but I can also attest to the power of connection through times of suffering. Connection is what will get us through fearful and isolating times, connection is what gives us strength, our inner strength, and that is what connects us to the human spirit, to humanity. 

Diwali is a celebration of the inner light, the light inside our heart, the flame of our spirit. But Diwali literally translates from Sanksrit into row of lights. Not single light, but row of lights. Meaning more than one. At Diwali homes around the world are decorated with rows of beautiful lamps, which is a gorgeous sight to be seen. Much more beautiful than one single lamp. I believe we are a world in need of the courage to connect, a world in need of connection even through times of suffering, especially through times of suffering, a world in need of acceptance, acceptance of ourselves, and acceptance of those different, a world where we can find the beauty in a row of lights and celebrate our connection.