As our own Thanksgiving approaches, this is a great time to share my sister-in-law Jill’s story of a Diwali celebration. Making people feel at home is the essence of kindness.
Yesterday, I had a mini Diwali (the name means ‘a row of lights’) celebration with my Indian first grader (the one covering her mouth) and her class. This holiday is celebrated all over India, and Indians in the U.S. celebrate it, too, although it’s much more exciting and festive in India. It’s about light triumphing over darkness/good over evil, and the nights are filled with lights–diyas (little oil lamps) line roads and are floated on water; houses are decorated with lights (like Christmas lights), and this outer light represents the inner light which protects us all. There are many sweets, and tons of firecrackers..
I got permission to use sparklers in the school yard. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me to bring a bucket of water out with us! I could barely get the (very ancient–I think they might be from Y2K) sparklers to light, but the dry leaves kept catching fire (serious fire, fast fire), and I had to stomp them out with my clog. I hope when the kids tell the parents about our event (don’t know what I have to fear–the kids go home and it’s like the school day never happened), they don’t mention all the brush fires I had to put out.
My Indian student is the most delightful child, full of passion, enthusiasm, and zest for life. She dressed up, as is her tradition, and so much glitter fell off her dress, you might want to check your computer area to make sure none of it got transmitted along with this photo. It was as if a button on the dress were pressed, and the glitter released from the fabric falling like silver snow.
She was proud and excited about our ceremony (which basically consisted of the kids standing around watching me put out fires), and as the class was walking back into the building, I heard her exclaim, “This is the BEST DIWALI EVER!”
