BY MADHURI BANDLA*
This year, Diwali felt a little different. With my firstborn away at college as a freshman, it was our first Diwali without him at home. Amid the fun and festivities, there was a quiet sense of his absence. Perhaps it was the feeling of missing him that stirred something deep within me, taking me on a nostalgic journey across the years and oceans, back to the Diwalis of my childhood in Chennai, India.
Beautiful memories never grow old. They simply wait for a moment to come alive again.
I remember the excitement that began weeks before Diwali: shopping for new clothes with my sister, the anticipation of gifts, the blessings of elders, and the beautiful mehndi lovingly applied by my Rajput aunt (Chachi). The house would begin to hum with festive preparations, and the excitement was almost palpable.
And then there was Mummy’s kitchen!
If ever I witnessed Goddess Annapurna Devi in human form, it was in my mother. Her greatest joy has always been in feeding, nurturing, and nourishing everyone around her. Her love shines through her extraordinary variety of dishes, the affection with which she serves them, and the happiness she derives from watching others relish her cooking.
One of her Diwali specialties was her delicious Kanjeevaram idlis. These were soft, coarsely textured idlis spiced with pepper and infused with ginger, cumin, and ghee. Simply melt-in-your-mouth delicious! Intoxicating aromas drifted through our house, and every dish carried the unmistakable ingredient of her love.
As Mummy cooked, I would enjoy filling our antique brass urli with water and flowers and placing diyas along our entrance and windows. That very urli, now over 80 years old, remains a treasured centerpiece of my Diwali décor here in the US, a beautiful piece of my childhood that has traveled across the oceans with me.
Our family potlucks added another layer of joy. Everyone arrived with their special dishes, tables overflowed with food, and conversations flowed as freely as the laughter. Looking back, it wasn’t just the delicious food I cherished, but the warmth of being surrounded by family, the endless laughter, and that beautiful feeling of having everyone together under one roof.
And presiding over the spiritual heart of our family was Amamma (my paternal grandmother), our beloved matriarch, spiritual teacher, and guiding light.
If Mummy nourished my body and spirit, Amamma nourished my soul and conscience. She was the keeper of our traditions, the quiet force behind our rituals, and the spiritual compass of our family.
Diwali pooja was a sacred occasion, filled with the fragrance of incense, the glow of oil lamps, and the rhythmic chanting of mantras. I remember helping Amamma adorn the Goddess in silk, decorating the pooja space with flowers and diyas, and witnessing our home transform into a spiritual sanctuary.
Amamma’s stories brought gods and goddesses to life. Through her, spirituality was woven into the everyday rhythms of our lives. I remember, too, our cherished Nombu tradition during Diwali, when we tied the sacred red thread, a simple yet profound symbol of faith, blessings, and continuity across generations.
Amamma’s traditions and stories planted the seeds of spirituality within me — seeds that have taken deeper root over the years and continue to shape my faith, values, and understanding of life.
Outside, on the streets and roads, it was a different kind of magic!
The crackle of fireworks, the thrill of sparklers and flowerpots, the thunderous sounds of red forts, and the mesmerizing glow of spinning chakras! Not to forget the constant stream of friends dropping by! Diwali evenings seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with celebrations, card games, laughter, and the luxury of school holidays!
There was so much joy in the simplest things. Back then, Diwali to me was all about excitement, food, sacred rituals, and togetherness.
Life eventually carried me across oceans, and with it came the personal responsibility of recreating those traditions in a new land. Over time, I began to embrace the deeper spiritual essence of Diwali — the triumph of light over darkness, truth over illusion, and the awakening of the divine light within each of us. The ancient Vedic prayer, “Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya” (“Lead me from darkness to light”), began to resonate with me more profoundly. I came to realize that Diwali is not merely about illuminating our homes but also about awakening the light of wisdom, truth, and divinity within our hearts.
Today, I feel profoundly grateful for the wonderful friends and community who have become our extended family, for the celebrations we share, and for the traditions we continue to carry forward. India may be thousands of miles away, but its spirit lives on in our homes and hearts, even here in the US.
And yet, there is something about childhood Diwalis that can never quite be recreated.
Perhaps it was the innocence of those years. Perhaps it was the comforting presence of parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Maybe it was the feeling that those magical days would never end.
This year, with Vishnu away, I found myself reflecting on the beautiful circle of life.
Once, I was the little girl eagerly awaiting Diwali, surrounded by boundless love and sacred wisdom. Then, I became the mother trying to create those very memories for my own children.
And I wonder what they will remember years from now. Which fragrances, which rituals, which moments of laughter and love will find their way back into their hearts when life takes them far from home?
Perhaps that is the most beautiful legacy of our festivals.
We do not merely pass down traditions. We pass down love, faith, belonging, and pieces of ourselves that continue to live through generations.
The fireworks of my childhood have long faded. Some beloved voices have grown silent, and the years have carried us far from those familiar doorways.
But the light remains.
In every meal I prepare and every gathering I host, I feel Mummy’s spirit of Annapurna and the joy of nourishing others.
In every prayer I offer, I feel Amamma’s spiritual presence and her faith, which became the foundation of my own.
And in every diya I light, I see a flicker of the little girl I once was.
The Diwalis of our childhood may never return, but they never truly leave us. They live in our traditions, in our children’s memories, and in the love we continue to share.
Memories never fade; they forever shine in silent splendor.
As another Diwali becomes a cherished memory, my heartfelt wish is that we all create moments that outlive the celebrations themselves. May our homes always be filled with the abundance of Annapurna, the wisdom of our elders, the warmth of family, and the infinite blessings of the Divine Goddess.
May our children inherit not merely our traditions but the love and sacred memories that give them meaning.
And wherever life takes us, may the lamps of our childhood continue to illuminate the pathways of our tomorrow.
Wishing everyone a beautiful, blessed Diwali, filled with love, light, laughter, and memories that will glow for generations to come.
Cover photo caption: Madhuri Bandla’s present-day Diwali décor (left) features a treasured antique brass urli and a painting by her grandmother, Amamma. The photograph on the right, was taken more than 20 years ago, at Amamma’s Diwali pooja.
* Madhuri Bandla is a CPA, accounting educator, freelance writer, columnist, dreamer, lover of life and learning. While her roots are from India, which nourish her and keep her grounded, she considers herself a global citizen in the wilderness of the earth, drawing from different cultures and diverse experiences. Her longest love affair is one with words and she enjoys writing about Hindu mythology, socio-economic and women’s issues, nature-inspired poems, and travel memoirs.
