Festival of Lights

Priya placed the diyas—small clay lamps—along the windowsill, each flame a tiny sun pushing back darkness. Tomorrow was Diwali, and their Mumbai apartment buzzed with preparation. Mother made sweets. Father hung strings of marigolds. Priya's job was the lamps—hundreds of them, placed throughout the house and along the balcony. "Why so many lights?" she asked her grandmother. "To guide Lakshmi to our home," Dadi replied, referring to the goddess of wealth and prosperity. "But also to remind us: we must be our own light in the world." Dadi sat beside Priya, helping arrange the diyas. "You know the story of Ram and Sita?" "Yes, Dadi. Ram defeated the demon Ravana and returned home after fourteen years of exile. The people lit lamps to welcome him." "True. But do you know what it means?" Priya hesitated. Dadi continued, "The demon Ravana represents our own darkness—ego, anger, greed. Ram represents dharma, righteousness. Diwali celebrates the victory of light over darkness, not just in stories, but within ourselves." She touched Priya's chest gently. "Every day, we face darkness. Fear, sadness, anger. The lamps remind us we have inner light to overcome it." That evening, as Priya lit the diyas one by one, she thought about her own darkness. The jealousy she felt toward her successful cousin. The anger at her brother for breaking her toy. The fear of the upcoming exams. With each lamp she lit, she made a small promise: to let go of jealousy, forgive her brother, face her fears. When all the lamps glowed, their balcony looked like a constellation brought to earth. Neighbors' balconies twinkled with answering lights. The whole city sparkled, millions of small flames pushing back the night. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Dadi said. "Yes," Priya agreed. But she was thinking of something else. Each person had lit their own lamps, but together they illuminated the world. Alone, one lamp was small. Together, they were magnificent. That was the real lesson of Diwali. We each carry light within us. And when we share it, when we let it shine, we transform darkness into beauty, fear into hope, isolation into community. The goddess Lakshmi would come, yes. But she would come because they had made space for her—not just in their decorated homes, but in their illuminated hearts.