BY JYOTHSNA HEGDE
In the world of children’s literature, a successful cultural book must effectively balance education with engagement. The Magic of Diwali with Saara by author Annie Agarwal manages this blend skillfully, presenting a story that is both informative and appealing.
The book centers on young Saara and her instantly lovable companion, her playful dog Oreo. Diwali — the Festival of Lights — is upon them, and while the decorations, sweets, and diya lamps are magical, Saara, with her curious mind, sets out to discover the holiday’s true meaning.
The narrative structure is particularly clever. Instead of a single, didactic explanation, Saara approaches various family members, each of whom offers a unique perspective on the celebration. This allows the book to explore the multifaceted nature of Diwali, covering themes from the spiritual victory of light over darkness to the more personal joys of family togetherness, sharing, and creating traditions.
Agarwal’s writing is gentle, warm, and perfectly pitched for young readers. The language is accessible, ensuring that children unfamiliar with the festival will grasp the concepts easily, while those who celebrate it will feel a deep sense of familiarity and pride. The dedication on page 2 highlights the book’s central theme: “Diwali — A celebration of love, light, and the beauty of family traditions,” and the story delivers on that promise.
This is more than just a holiday book; it’s a universal story about curiosity, the value of family wisdom, and discovering that the real magic in any celebration lies in the moments spent with those who we hold dear. The Magic of Diwali With Saara is a must-read for any family looking to celebrate or learn about this wonderful festival. It is a heartfelt reminder that the light of Diwali shines brightest in our hearts and homes.
Leaving my corporate career to write felt like coming home: Q&A with Author Annie Aggarwal
Your dedication credits your children, Saara and Oreo, as your main inspiration. Can you share a favorite real-life moment or question from Saara that directly sparked the idea for this particular story?
The inspiration came from my daughter, Saara — the real “Saara” behind the story — and our curious conversations leading up to Diwali each year. When she was around four, I opened my “Diwali” décor box to begin preparing our home for the festival. Saara’s eyes lit up as she dove right in, excited by the burst of colors and sparkling ornaments inside. It reminded me of a “Christmas box,” the kind filled with memories and anticipation.
Children are remarkably perceptive; they don’t always need words to know something special is coming. They feel it in our energy — in the colors, the laughter, the way the house hums with joy as my husband and I plan menus and guest lists. Saara watched it all unfold and finally asked, “Mummy, are we getting ready to celebrate Christmas?” I smiled and said, “No, we’re celebrating a festival called Diwali.”
The confusion and wonder on her face were priceless. She picked up a small clay lamp and asked, “Mama, what is this?” I explained that it was a diya — like a candle, but one that holds a deeper meaning for Diwali. Her expression changed to awe and curiosity. Children are meaning-makers; they see magic first and then seek to understand it.
That same week, her preschool teacher called, asking if I could come in to share a little about Diwali with the class. I realized how challenging it can be for educators to explain this festival — so full of beauty, depth, and symbolism — in a simple, relatable way. I agreed immediately, since I already had a curious little one at home asking so many questions.
When I visited her classroom, I brought diyas, torans, and other festive decorations to show the children. Their faces lit up with the same wonder I had seen in Saara’s. Every time I took an item out of the bag, I could feel their excitement and eagerness to learn. Like any parent, my first instinct wasn’t to write a storybook — it was to buy one. I searched through several, hoping to find something universal that could explain Diwali’s essence, but none felt quite right.
That moment in Saara’s classroom — surrounded by curious, wide-eyed children — made me realize how much we need stories that help bridge cultures and generations. That day, The Magic of Diwali with Saara quietly began to take root.
“The Magic of Diwali with Saara began for me with my daughter’s wonder — her eyes saw what my heart had almost forgotten.”
You are credited with “Words, Wonders & Design.” What was it like taking on both the roles of author and designer, and how did balancing the text and the visual elements influence the final look and feel of the book?
Taking on both the roles of author and creative director was a truly immersive experience. I wanted the book to feel like Diwali — glowing, warm, and alive — not just read like a story. Balancing words with visuals meant being intentional about every color, every expression, and every burst of light on the page.
Because I could visualize Saara’s world so vividly — the excitement in her eyes, Oreo’s playful chaos, the soft golden glow of diyas — I was able to guide the artwork to reflect the emotion behind each scene. Wearing both hats gave me creative freedom but also a deep responsibility: to ensure that the heart of the story shone through every page.
Having read through many children’s books, I wanted mine to strike a thoughtful balance between text and illustration. Since this story is also educational, context was crucial — which is why every page of text is accompanied by an illustration. Children are imaginative by nature; they love stories that invite them to see as well as read. I wanted every child to find something familiar in the pages — a reflection of themselves, their families, or their experiences — while also discovering a South Asian child joyfully celebrating Diwali with her loved ones.
Many of my readers are South Asian children growing up in the Western hemisphere, where Diwali often exists quietly — celebrated in homes or small community gatherings rather than out on the streets. Unlike Christmas, which is visible everywhere — from store windows to entire cities dressed in lights — Diwali can sometimes feel hidden. Through vivid illustrations, I wanted these children to see that Diwali is every bit as vibrant, joyful, and grand — a celebration where family, friends, and love come together, even if that circle looks smaller in their own homes.
In my case, our Diwali celebrations were often just me, my husband, our little girl, and our dog, Oreo. That intimacy made me want to recreate the grandeur I remembered from my childhood in India — the sights, sounds, and warmth of togetherness — so that children like Saara could feel it too.
While writing the story came naturally, the real challenge was weaving together the illustrations and design. I wanted the book to be a keepsake — something families could cherish for years. It ended up being 52 pages long, compared to the typical 32–34 pages of a picture book. But I couldn’t bring myself to cut any part of it — every image, every moment felt essential. To remove even one would mean losing a piece of the festival’s spirit. The Magic of Diwali with Saara was meant to celebrate not just a story, but the depth and meaning behind one of the world’s most beautiful festivals.
“Bringing Saara’s world to life meant balancing story and soul — ensuring every page felt alive with light.”
In the story, Saara seeks the “true meaning” of Diwali from different family members. What is the single most important message you, as the author, hope children — both those who celebrate Diwali and those who are learning about it — take away from your book?
At its heart, The Magic of Diwali with Saara is about the light we carry within — kindness, courage, gratitude, and love. The diyas, sweets, and fireworks are outward symbols, but the real magic of Diwali lies in remembering that our inner light matters most.
Within the story, each moment has a deeper thread — the victory of good over evil, the prayers for wisdom and prosperity, and the no-moon night that marks new beginnings. These ancient stories and celestial events guide us outwardly, but their true meaning lives within us. Diwali invites us to look inward — to see the light in our own hearts, to overcome darkness and doubt, and to realize that abundance isn’t just wealth we hold in our hands but the joy and generosity we share with others.
Traditionally, people celebrate Diwali by buying gold or silver — symbols of prosperity. Yet I wanted children to explore a richer idea of abundance — one measured not by possessions but by love, gratitude, and inner peace. As the moon begins a new cycle during Diwali, it reminds us that every ending holds the promise of renewal — that no matter what has passed, we can always begin again, brighter than before.
Whether a child celebrates Diwali every year or is discovering it for the first time, I hope they see that the festival is about more than tradition. It’s about connection — about the universal joy of being together, sharing love, and celebrating hope.
“The most radiant light of Diwali isn’t in the lamps we light, but in the love, courage, and gratitude that live within us.”
Why do you feel it is important for books like yours, which focus on specific cultural festivals, to be available to a wider, global audience of young readers?
Books are among the gentlest ways to build bridges between worlds. Growing up in India, Diwali was everywhere — the fragrance of roses, jasmines, and marigolds; the laughter echoing through courtyards; the taste of sweets and savories shared with neighbors. A child raised there never needs Diwali explained — it unfolds all around them. Even if a family chooses not to celebrate, the streets, schools, and marketplaces still shimmer with its presence. It’s much like how children in the West naturally absorb holidays such as Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, or Christmas — their environments themselves become the teacher.
Raising my daughter in America, I realized she experiences culture differently — through questions, stories, and celebrations we consciously create at home. Festivals like Holi and Diwali don’t automatically fill the world around her; they exist only if we bring them to life. If I chose not to celebrate, the context would simply fade — not because she lacks identity, but because the environment no longer provides that shared rhythm. And yet, how could I keep from her something so full of beauty and meaning? With her grandparents in India and the festival felt mostly through video calls, I knew stories would have to become our bridge.
That realization led me to write this book — a way to close the distance between two homes. Through The Magic of Diwali with Saara, I wanted children like Saara to feel the glow of celebration even if they are far from its source — to see Diwali not as distant or abstract, but as theirs. Perhaps one day she’ll experience the festival in India, and it won’t feel foreign, because she grew up knowing its magic through the stories we shared.
I hope this book serves as a bridge — for children living between cultures and for their friends who are eager to understand them. Stories like these remind us that what makes us different can also connect us — that joy, goodness, and light are universal languages.
“When children grow between worlds, stories become the language that keeps their roots alive.”
The family offers varied insights into Diwali. Was the choice to use multiple family voices (instead of one clear answer) a deliberate way to show the rich complexity of cultural traditions?
In most Indian households, Diwali isn’t explained in one clear way — it’s experienced through many voices. There’s always a Dadi or Nani (grandmother) sharing stories from ancient times, a Dadu or Nanu (grandfather) humming songs from his youth, and parents adding modern touches to age-old traditions. I wanted that richness to shine through in the book.
By letting Saara hear about Diwali from each family member, I could show how every generation adds its own meaning to the festival. That mosaic of voices mirrors real family life — layered, loving, and full of different truths that together make our culture so vibrant.
I drew deeply from my own childhood in a joint family, surrounded by grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Every celebration felt larger than life, infused with laughter, food, and ritual. “It takes a village to raise a child” couldn’t be truer — because children don’t just need instruction; they need perspective. They learn by seeing the same world through many eyes. That’s what makes growing up in a big family so magical: each story, each viewpoint adds color to a child’s understanding — like a kaleidoscope that shifts and glimmers with every turn.
In contrast, my daughter Saara is growing up in a small, nuclear family — just the three of us and our pug, Oreo. Her questions about culture and festivals often come to me, and most answers come from her parents. But when I began shaping this story, I knew it couldn’t reflect only our narrow lens. The world I wanted her to experience — the one I grew up in — was full of many voices, each holding a pearl of wisdom. I couldn’t recreate that household around her, but I could bring it alive through the pages of a book.
There’s a quiet beauty in intergenerational storytelling — in the way grandparents anywhere in the world pass down love and legacy through tales. I wanted The Magic of Diwali with Saara to capture that warmth: Saara listening to her grandparents’ memories, learning from their devotion, and laughing at their gentle humor. Those moments echo my own memories — of watching my grandmother pray softly at dawn or my grandfather telling stories that carried both mischief and meaning. Writing this book was my way of passing that world on — so Saara, and children like her, can feel the embrace of generations even when oceans apart.
“Every family has many voices — together they create the harmony of heritage.”
What is the most challenging or rewarding part of writing for a young audience, especially when trying to simplify complex cultural narratives like the stories behind Diwali?
Writing for children teaches humility. They are the most honest readers — they sense authenticity instantly. The greatest challenge was distilling something as vast and layered as Diwali into a story simple enough for a child to grasp, yet meaningful enough to stay with them.
Diwali can be complex to explain — it carries many stories, rituals, and celebrations that stretch across days. But I wasn’t focused on every ritual; I wanted to capture the essence of the festival — its deeper meaning. I had to translate what Diwali meant to me into a story my preschooler could understand. That was the true test. My first draft was far too long; I spent days editing it down, making sure the language was simple and rhythmic enough for a young child who is just learning to read and write.
When I finally read the story aloud to my daughter, who was about four and a half at the time, she listened quietly and then said, “Yes, Mommy, I love this Diwali story!” That was my green light to publish. My toughest editor was sitting right under my own roof — and she didn’t hold back!
The experience was deeply humbling. It taught me to listen more closely to children — to the way they see the world with wonder and honesty. Their world isn’t complicated like ours; there’s beauty in how they take things simply, as they are. Through this process, I learned to value that simplicity — to see through a child’s eyes again, where everything is magical because it’s unfiltered and pure.
The joy of writing for children lies in finding that delicate balance — weaving wonder and wisdom together. When a child connects with a story, they don’t see cultural boundaries or geography; they just feel joy, empathy, and curiosity. That’s the greatest reward for me — watching a child’s face light up in recognition, understanding, and delight.
“Children are the most honest editors — they know when a story comes from the heart.”
Do you have plans for more books following Saara and Oreo? Perhaps exploring other Indian festivals or addressing different aspects of their daily lives?
Saara and Oreo’s journey is only just beginning! I’m currently developing new stories that explore the world through the wonder and magic of a child’s eyes. While I haven’t finalized the titles yet, the larger themes remain educational and deeply emotional — inspired by my own experiences as a child, traveler, and yoga coach. Much of it, as always, begins with my daughter’s questions — her curiosity, emotions, and the way she makes sense of the world. She’s quite the storyteller herself.
I’m also exploring the idea of including my daughter’s artwork in future books. She’s a passionate little artist who loves to draw and paint, and I’d love for her creativity to shine alongside mine. Some of my upcoming projects also draw from poems and short stories I wrote as a child — treasures my mother preserved in a shoebox of handwritten notes and journals. Finding those pieces reminded me that the writer I am today has been waiting quietly inside me all along.
Recently, I took a leap of faith — leaving my corporate career as a management consultant to pursue writing full-time. It feels, in many ways, like coming home. I’ve been working on several drafts, including a whimsical story about a goldfish, a short memoir celebrating my beloved dog Oreo, a story about Mr. Moon, and another inspired by my father’s tales from childhood. None of these titles are finalized yet, but each carries its own heart and lesson.
I’m also learning the ropes of publishing, distribution, and marketing — wanting to bring stories to readers faster, but with great care and quality. Every upcoming book will offer something unique, educational, and imaginative — each one just as magical as The Magic of Diwali with Saara.
I may explore a future book on Holi, but I’m taking time to craft it meaningfully. The Magic of Diwali with Saara has set beautiful expectations, and I want each cultural story that follows to meet them with the same heart.
Through all these books, my hope is to create a series that helps families celebrate where they come from while discovering the beauty that connects us all.
“Leaving my corporate career to write felt like coming home — to the stories that were waiting for me all along.”
