As Deepavali draws near, the festival brings both joy and reflection. For many Indians in Singapore – and second-generation Indians like myself – it’s a bittersweet reminder of the quiet disconnect from our roots. Each year, I push these thoughts to the back of my mind. Each year, it becomes more evident – with the complex, ever-changing relationship with the traditions I grew up with.
What happens when our customs start to feel more like a performance than personal practice? For many of us, this question is relevant but uncomfortable. So let’s unpack it together.
Why We’re in the Dark about the Festival of Lights
Starting off strong; while Deepavali has lots of buzz in homes and within communities, it feels like a festival on the margins of the calendar. Sure, Little India has lights every year, but beyond that enclave? The festival is just happening in pockets or just the homes of Hindu families; it doesn’t spill over as much as other cultural celebrations do. In fact, I’ve seen Christmas lights up right before Deepavali in some places on multiple occasions, and it used to sting a little when I was younger and more impressionable.
So, of course, this sense of peripheral importance plays a part in why some younger Hindus feel a gradual disconnection from the festival. It just feels less central to our identity. I guess the basics were always there – diyas were lit to invite light into the home, and offerings were placed in front of deities during our prayers. But I had nothing beyond this elementary understanding. Like many others, I simply went through the motions of the rituals.
Which brings about more uncomfortable questions. Shouldn’t I know more by now? Can I really claim to be part of a religion when I can’t even grasp its depth myself? Here’s where the guilt sets in; right on cue.
But here’s where I think many of us go wrong. We mistake participation for perfection. Some will disagree, but I want to believe that it’s okay not to know everything about your religion or culture. I’m still learning that it doesn’t have to be a checklist all the time. It’s a living, breathing part of who we are, shaped by our experiences, environment, and choices.
Traditions and Trends
As the years pass, I find my perception of Deepavali continuing to change. When I was a child, my excitement was palpable. I used to wait eagerly till my family was ready to go down and light our whistling sparklers! But now that excitement has dimmed. One might say this is just part and parcel of growing up, but I think it signals something deeper – further detachment. It becomes easy to lose interest when we don’t know why we’re doing something.
At the same time, there’s a noticeable shift in the aspects of Deepavali that my fellow Indian friends and I now prioritise. We used to complain about wearing traditional clothing – the scratchy kurtas and lehengas we wriggled uncomfortably into as kids – but now we get excited about dressing up. There’s something about putting on a beautifully embroidered piece that brings a sense of pride. But sometimes, this shift makes me wonder. Have we started caring more about the superficial aspects of Deepavali rather than its deeper meanings?
It’s hard to tell. I can’t help but feel it’s my way of maintaining some connection to it. Social media plays a role here, too – like many other festivals, Deepavali is an occasion to show our best looks. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with this, it does make it seem like there’s a layer of separation from our religion’s more “authentic” practices.
Tuning Back In
Another interesting evolution in our relationship with Deepavali is the attitude towards Indian music during celebrations. In my childhood, Bollywood tunes were always playing at my Indian gatherings, but I struggled to embrace it fully. It’s not that the music wasn’t enjoyable; rather, there was a sense of embarrassment tied to how others might perceive it. The internalised shame reflects a bigger societal issue that many minorities face growing up – the pressure to conform, to downplay parts of our identity that might seem “too much” or even “out of place”.
But now, I’ve noticed the collective flip of a switch in my friends and me; we’ve started blasting and belting Hindi songs during gatherings and sharing playlists, rediscovering what we had previously kept at arm’s length. So that’s some good news! It’s almost as if we’ve all realised that there’s nothing to be ashamed of and that the history, rhythm and energy of Indian music deserve to be celebrated and enjoyed.
Redefine to Rekindle
I believe there’s a larger conversation to be had here. There’s this pressure to “do it all” or “know it all”, a tug-of-war between honouring our heritage and admitting that we don’t know everything that’s expected. But that doesn’t mean it has lost its value to us!
Perhaps the excitement around traditional fashion isn’t just superficial; maybe it’s a way for us to reconnect with our identity in a way that feels more accessible. And perhaps our renewed love for Indian music could be seen as a reclamation of something that’s so uniquely ours. Let the aspects we love and enjoy open the doors to a deeper understanding!
Ultimately, as we celebrate Deepavali this year, I urge you to reflect with me. After all, Deepavali is about how the smallest flicker can overcome darkness and light the way forward. So I’ll wear the traditional dress that’s been collecting dust in my closet – unopened. I’ll put a Bollywood playlist on shuffle – perhaps a song I’ve not listened to in a while. And I’ll celebrate! I may not have all the answers, but I’ll engage with the festival on my own terms, even if it doesn’t look exactly like how our parents or grandparents celebrated it.
So join me, and embrace what resonates with you too! And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find new connections with our heritage – ones that feel authentic and lasting. It’s not about losing traditions; it’s about finding new ways to keep the spark alive!
What about you? How will you be celebrating Deepavali this year? Share with us at [email protected], or slide into our DMs on Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok!
Visuals Courtesy of Ravi Kant, Yan Krukau, Sandeep Singh, and kamodayz via Pexels and Pixabay.