I've been away from home for a long time. True, I go back and visit once a year but I've always missed out on Diwali celebrations. I miss being at home around this time and having the sweets roll in from friends and neighbours. You see, that is the tradition during Diwali, especially in Fiji. Indian families will start days in advance, preparing all that yummy meetai or sweets, savouries which include curry chana (chickpeas), puri, murku, saina and just before the day or even on the day, they pack these goodies into containers to drop off to friends and family. Obviously, this doesn't happen in Prague and for reasons unexplained this year, I felt especially left out of the activities, homesick, until I reconnected with some old friends from school.
For those of you who have never heard of, or celebrated Diwali, it is the Hindu festival of lights. For different sections in the Indian community, Diwali marks different things. It celebrates the release of the sixth guru, Guru Hargobind plus 52 princes with him from prison in 1619. It also marks the Death Anniversary of Swami Dayanand Saraswati, but in Fiji, it mainly signifies a time when all races can come together and have fun. Hell, some of us have lost our heads over it and I mean that last part literally. Modern day fireworks have become a huge problem for unsupervised kids. Diwali is an official holiday in India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad & Tobago, Suriname, Malaysia, Singapore and Fiji.
As a kid growing up in Fiji, I used to watch the Indian families carry out major cleaning in and around their houses, something which always puzzled me because they maintain the cleanest, neatest houses all year round. But hey - I guess it's the tradition. I watched in anticipation as they lit the many diyas (oil lamps resembling tiny bowls made from clay and filled with oil) and placed them carefully on the steps leading down to their driveways. I often watched the girls create pretty Rangoli designs on their porches meant to welcome Hindu deities although at the time, I didn't realise their significance. For the non Indian families, preparations for Diwali began in a very different way.
1. Fireworks and every kid's idea of fun. We just had to have them or Diwali would not be complete! My favourites were the sparklers, the fountain, rockets and the parachutes. The parachutes were a bit of a pain though, because you'd have to follow the light of your falling parachute only to watch it land on your neighbour's roof. Bummer. These days we have very loud patakas which basically stand for those extremely loud explosive type fireworks capable of blowing your fingers or head off. They come in different strengths and honestly, I hate them. I think they should be banned.
2. Waiting for sweets. That's right. All non Indian families would eagerly stay at home, gates and doors wide open to any Indian, even people we didn't know, to receive sweets. It sounds selfish I know, but that's what we loved about Diwali. We would receive packages of laddoo, spicy matar, barfi, halwa, FOOD, and one of my favourites - murku. Oh how I love that crunchy, cuminy fried goodness! :D Yum yum yum.
When night came, neighbourhoods would be alive with lights and fireworks. Families would hop into their cars or go walkies to admire the pretty houses (and gossip later about who had the nicest and ugliest lights) and this still goes on today.
Not wanting to feel left out this year, a good friend of mine, Malcolm, encouraged me to make pedas - a type of milk fudge which I love. Naturally he boasted of his sweet making skills, egging me on and so I accepted the challenge. After hitting YouTube for the simplest recipe, my pedas turned out wonderfully. I posted the link to the recipe on the picture. I have to say, I was quite pleased with myself. I shared them of course, and they disappeared faster than candies down a kid's throat. :) It was also fun scrolling through FB, watching everyone upload their pics of sweets and basically having a great time. Malcolm had a bit of a scare though, when his neighbours' kids 'accidentally' threw a pataka into his living room. Bet that gave him a heart attack! By the time he settled his terrified heart, there were no children in sight. Typical! :)
As a kid growing up in Fiji, I used to watch the Indian families carry out major cleaning in and around their houses, something which always puzzled me because they maintain the cleanest, neatest houses all year round. But hey - I guess it's the tradition. I watched in anticipation as they lit the many diyas (oil lamps resembling tiny bowls made from clay and filled with oil) and placed them carefully on the steps leading down to their driveways. I often watched the girls create pretty Rangoli designs on their porches meant to welcome Hindu deities although at the time, I didn't realise their significance. For the non Indian families, preparations for Diwali began in a very different way.
1. Fireworks and every kid's idea of fun. We just had to have them or Diwali would not be complete! My favourites were the sparklers, the fountain, rockets and the parachutes. The parachutes were a bit of a pain though, because you'd have to follow the light of your falling parachute only to watch it land on your neighbour's roof. Bummer. These days we have very loud patakas which basically stand for those extremely loud explosive type fireworks capable of blowing your fingers or head off. They come in different strengths and honestly, I hate them. I think they should be banned.
2. Waiting for sweets. That's right. All non Indian families would eagerly stay at home, gates and doors wide open to any Indian, even people we didn't know, to receive sweets. It sounds selfish I know, but that's what we loved about Diwali. We would receive packages of laddoo, spicy matar, barfi, halwa, FOOD, and one of my favourites - murku. Oh how I love that crunchy, cuminy fried goodness! :D Yum yum yum.
When night came, neighbourhoods would be alive with lights and fireworks. Families would hop into their cars or go walkies to admire the pretty houses (and gossip later about who had the nicest and ugliest lights) and this still goes on today.
Not wanting to feel left out this year, a good friend of mine, Malcolm, encouraged me to make pedas - a type of milk fudge which I love. Naturally he boasted of his sweet making skills, egging me on and so I accepted the challenge. After hitting YouTube for the simplest recipe, my pedas turned out wonderfully. I posted the link to the recipe on the picture. I have to say, I was quite pleased with myself. I shared them of course, and they disappeared faster than candies down a kid's throat. :) It was also fun scrolling through FB, watching everyone upload their pics of sweets and basically having a great time. Malcolm had a bit of a scare though, when his neighbours' kids 'accidentally' threw a pataka into his living room. Bet that gave him a heart attack! By the time he settled his terrified heart, there were no children in sight. Typical! :)