I know I’ve celebrated Diwali before, I just don’t really remember it. My memories of Hindu celebrations and rituals are fuzzy as I didn’t learn a lot about Hinduism growing up, and didn’t make great efforts to engage with it either. This is, primarily, because I’ve felt like an ‘outsider’; I’m biracial and white-passing/ethnically ambiguous, and I’m usually met with disbelief when I reveal that I’m Indian. So, at temples and community events – and even just in South Asian neighbourhoods – I feel out of place and lacking. I compare myself to everyone around me who knows what to do and why and can speak their mother tongue much better than I can. I’m hyperaware and embarrassed by how people may judge or excuse my mistakes on the grounds that I am ‘not Indian enough’.

Over the last few years, I’ve wanted to connect deeper with my heritage. I do so where I can with South Asian history, foods and my family’s language. But not as much with Hinduism. So, I talked to my family about Diwali and did a little research myself. Here’s what I learnt:

The word diwali has its root in the Sanskrit dipavali, which essentially means ‘row of lights’. And, for Hindus, the festival represents the triumph of light over darkness, good over evil. So, for five days, around October/November time, we light and decorate our homes, light fireworks, create rangoli and eat good food with our loved ones.

Diwali is especially significant for my family; my aunt (my Tai Maushi) was born during the festival, on the day that sisters bless their brothers. She was the first daughter born to the Chitnavis, so her birth has always felt auspicious. For this reason, my Tai Maushi feels a particular spiritual connection with Diwali; it’s the only festival on any calendar she really observes.

When I sat down to chat with my grandmother (my Aji), the first thing she mentions is all the preparation that goes into Diwali. The weeks leading up to it focus on making food, cleaning the house and buying new things.

She’s quick to bring up rangoli, and most of our discussion is about it. Rangoli is a South Asian art form made from powders and natural materials and is usually created on the ground. Many who celebrate Diwali believe that rangoli at the entrance of a house ensures good luck.

My Aji is an artist even if she says otherwise. She loves painting, and she finds ways to slip her creativity into the mundane. When she’s talking about rangoli, her voice holds love, joy and nostalgia.

She tells me about decorating the entrance to her home as a teenager and the rangoli competitions within her building. She was proud that the rangoli she made with her siblings would always be in the top four and said it was encouraging and she loved it.

My Tai Maushi also talks about rangoli. In fact, the memory at the tip of her tongue is of my grandmother creating rangoli as a crowd watched.

There was less celebration in England. My family grew up here in the 1970s, and things like Diwali weren’t really acknowledged. As my aunt puts it, there wasn’t much to do or see – not like in India. My family also didn’t live in a South Asian neighbourhood, so they didn’t have access to the same sense of community that other Desi’s might have.

My Aji, however, did what she could. For example, she always made sure rangoli was present at our doorstep. My grandmother still has books on the art form, which she had asked her mother (my Panji) to send from India. It’s exciting going through them; the pages feel so thin, and, in one of them, you can see everything is wholly drawn and written by hand.

Talking to my family, I can see how Diwali and familial connection have gone hand in hand, whether through my aunt’s birth, my grandmother and her siblings partaking in rangoli competitions, or my Panji sending my Aji books so she could continue our traditions over here. I don’t want that to stop. I want to celebrate with my grandmother, with my family, in the ways we can. Even if it’s just sitting together, with candles lit, and learning more about my culture.

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If you want to make something for Diwali or just try something new, here is a recipe for rava ladoo! They’re spherical sweets made of semolina flour, coconut and cardamom.

I have written the recipe below based off of my Aji’s instruction, as well as two Marathi women who upload recipes to YouTube – Sushama Deshpande and Shama Kulkarni.

Total time: 30-40 minutes

Ingredients (10 servings)

• ¼ cup pure ghee (should be able to use vegetable ghee for a vegan option!)
• 1 ½ cups semolina
• ½ cup coconut (desiccated or grated fresh)
• ½ cup water
• 1 ½ cups sugar
• ¼ tsp cardamom powder
• 2 tbsp raisins (or sultanas)
• 2 tbsp chopped nuts (e.g. almonds, cashews or pistachios) (optional)

Instructions

1. Add the ghee to a heated pan.
2. When it melts, lower the gas/temp to low-medium heat, and add the semolina. Stir together for 5-7 minutes until it gets a little darker/yellow. Be careful that the mixture does not get brown, as that means it has burnt.
3. Add the coconut and stir for a couple more minutes until the coconut is cooked.
4. When the mixture is a light golden/yellow colour, turn off the gas.
5. In a different pan, add the water and the sugar to make a syrup. Stir gently for a few minutes on low heat. It is done when the texture becomes sticky/stringy.
6. Add the cardamom powder and then the semolina/coconut mixture to the syrup. Next, add the raisins. Stir this together gently.
7. Turn off the hob and add a lid to the pan.
8. After a while (~15 mins), stir the mixture to check it is ready. It should look sort of fluffy. Please see either video linked for clarification if needed (timestamps: 06:25 for Sushama Deshpande; 07:24 for Shama Kulkarni).
9. Roll the mixture into balls. It is recommended that you put ghee (or edible coconut oil!) on your hands so the ladoos form well. It is also recommended to make the ladoos bigger rather than smaller, but that is up to you.
10. If you are adding in nuts, add them when you are rolling the ladoo into balls.

Enjoy! And Shubh (Happy) Diwali!