Diwali in India

The other day was Diwali, the Festival of Light, like Christmas back home, but louder, brighter, and wilder. I experienced Diwali once before, three years ago, with a local family in a small Indian district. It was warm, beautiful, and welcoming.

This time, I celebrated in South Goa, and although the essence was the same, everything felt different. People and children built huge figures of Narkasur, the demon that represents evil. At night, they performed with music, fire, and drama, Krishna fighting and defeating the demon. Those structures moved, breathed, spread fire, opened into two pieces… months of work coming to life in one night (and a lot of money and time involved). 

And then the fireworks began… chaotic, unpredictable, and full of character. Some exploded too soon, some didn’t at all, others came flying back at us. Total chaos. I call it Indian technology: nothing perfect, but somehow it always works.

The celebration continued with sweets, colorful rangolis drawn in front of homes (it’s like mandalas made with different colours and sand on the ground), oil massages with herbal scrubs, lights, and laughter. It was beautiful… messy, loud, human, and alive.