diwali: a festival of lights, divinity, and new beginnings

Every year, as October and November approach, there’s a special magic that fills the air. It’s the season when homes are swept clean, lights are lit, and hearts are filled with warmth. This is Diwali, a festival that turns the darkest night into a celebration of radiance, where each flickering flame carries whispers of ancient tales, hopes, and dreams. To me, Diwali is more than just a festival. It’s a reminder that light can always pierce through darkness, that each tiny diya we light carries its own spark of divinity and promise of a fresh start.

In a world often tangled in shadows, the light of Diwali seems to spread out like a comforting embrace. Every diya we light doesn’t just brighten our homes—it lights up our hearts and minds. We place them in rows along windows, at doorsteps, and on balconies, filling every corner with their gentle glow. It’s as if these little lamps hold a secret language of joy, peace, and renewal. And as their flames flicker, they speak to us, softly but powerfully, reminding us of things we might have forgotten. The divine light they carry is not just about gods and goddesses but about the good that lives within each of us. Diwali isn’t just about the outside world, but about lighting up the darkness inside too. Just like Lord Ram’s homecoming after 14 years in exile, Diwali symbolizes a return—a return to light, to goodness, and to all that is right. Imagine the people of Ayodhya, with their hearts swelling with joy as they lit lamps to welcome him home. They didn’t have fancy electric lights or big fireworks back then, but their joy was boundless. It was a light that shone not from the lamps but from the happiness of people, their faith, and the hope that life was starting anew. We carry this tradition forward today, and even though centuries have passed, that feeling of hope, of starting again, is the same. Every diya on Diwali symbolizes a fresh start, like an unspoken promise for brighter days. We clean our homes, remove dust from every corner, and decorate with bright colors and flowers. It’s as if we’re cleansing our minds and hearts too. This act of cleaning feels almost sacred—an invitation to let go of whatever weighed us down in the past year and welcome a season of positivity. It’s like shaking off the dust from our own spirits, giving ourselves a chance to feel light, to let our minds and hearts glow just like the lamps we place so carefully around our homes. The lights also remind us of resilience. Even on a dark night, a tiny flame shines brightly, steady in the wind. Each diya is like a brave heart, unwavering, reminding us that even when everything seems dark, we have the strength to keep glowing. It’s a beautiful reminder that no matter what challenges we face, there’s always light within us. We may stumble, we may fall, but Diwali teaches us to rise, to believe, and to keep going.

When I look at the row of lights outside my home, I feel a quiet calm mixed with excitement. The lights whisper tales from the past but also speak to the future. They say, “Let go of your fears, step into the light, and let it guide you.” This festival brings us together with family and friends, laughing, sharing sweets, and remembering that life itself is a gift worth celebrating. And as we gaze at the beautiful patterns of rangoli at the doorstep, we know that this time, this festival, is an invitation to paint our own lives in colors of joy, love, and kindness. The divinity of Diwali lights is something almost magical. When you see rows of oil lamps or strings of fairy lights everywhere, it feels as if the heavens themselves have descended to join us in this celebration. In our myths, gods and goddesses bless the earth with their divine presence during this time, watching over us as we rejoice. But beyond the stories, there’s something deeply spiritual about standing in a softly glowing home, filled with the fragrance of incense and flowers. It’s in these moments that we feel closest to the divine, as if the lights themselves are saying, “You are loved, you are protected, and you are never truly alone.” For me, Diwali is a festival that stitches together the past, the present, and the future. It celebrates victories long gone, triumphs that remind us of the power of good over evil, and the courage we all have to conquer our own challenges. But it’s also a moment to pause and appreciate the now, to be grateful for what we have, and to share our blessings with others. When we exchange sweets and gifts, we aren’t just giving things—we’re giving love, joy, and warmth. And as Diwali passes each year, it leaves behind a lingering sense of hope, like the soft glow that remains even after a lamp has been blown out. It’s a hope that lingers in our hearts, urging us to be better, to spread kindness, and to shine our own lights in a world that sometimes feels heavy and dark. It’s a promise that no matter what challenges the next year brings, we’ll meet them with the same joy, resilience, and belief in the goodness within us. In a way, Diwali is like a second New Year—a time for resolutions that come not from obligation but from the heart. It’s a time when we promise ourselves that, just like those little lamps, we’ll keep shining, keep growing, and keep believing in the beauty of life. So every year, when I light that first diya, I feel like I’m lighting a path forward, one that’s filled with hope, courage, and a little bit of magic. To me, Diwali is the celebration of light—light that fills our homes, light that touches our hearts, and light that reminds us of who we are and who we can be. It’s a festival that isn’t just seen or heard but felt, in the deepest corners of our souls. So as the lights of Diwali flicker all around, I feel grateful for this moment, this beautiful tradition, and for the chance to step into a new year, guided by the divine glow of love, hope, and endless possibilities.