In college, I feel the distance from my home, parents, and culture most prominently during festive holidays. During Diwali, when an expensive flight or an upcoming exam keeps me from going home, the homesickness really sets in. Most of the semester, I am irritated by my parents constantly calling me and asking about my day, how my exams went, or whether I drank too much at a party. The only time I care to call my folks is when I need money for DoorDash, but Diwali is a completely different time. During Diwali, I ache to be with my family and celebrate the return of Lord Ram. 

I grew up in India with a devout Hindu mom and sister and a secular but culturally Hindu dad. Diwali was a time when my folks took off time from work, I got off of school, and my entire family wore traditional Indian clothes. We decorated the walls of our house with marigold torans and string lights. We decorated the floors with rangoli (a floor art made from colored powders, rice flour, flower petals, or sand). We prayed to Lord Ganesha and Mother Lakshmi, seeking the wisdom to move through the challenges that stand between us and our goals. We lit diyas as a symbol of Lord Ram and his family, who represent virtue and truthfulness, entering our home and blessing us with the power to rise above our evils. Finally, we lit fireworks — not for any deeper meaning, but simply for the joy of it (and to annoy my mom, who disapproves of how expensive fireworks are).

WashU’s large and prominent South Asian association, Ashoka, and their celebration of Diwali were a part of my “Why WashU” essay. I experienced the Diwali celebration with Ashoka as a member for the past two years. Though I admire and enjoy much of it, something still feels missing from the event, beyond just my family. Growing up, the purpose of Diwali was not to celebrate my culture, but rather to celebrate faith, and specifically Ramayana, the ancient South Asian epic narrating the exile and return of Lord Rama and Goddess Sita. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love when Ashoka decorates the front of Edison Theater with flower garlands, string lights, and artificial diyas. The dresses in the fashion show, the dance performances — from the energetic, fast-paced Bhangra and Dandiya to the graceful classical dances and music from traditional Hindu conservatories — all feel like an extraordinary representation of the vibrant culture and tradition of my land. By directing ticket proceeds to Sankara Nethralaya’s vision-restoration work for underprivileged people in India, the show takes on an even more meaningful dimension. 

Still, after attending the event, I cannot help but ask the question, “Has Diwali ever been about celebrating my culture?”

The answer to that, at least in my experience, is no. The intention of Diwali at WashU is to showcase Indian culture, not to celebrate what Diwali meant to me growing up. Diwali, or Deepawali, as it is called in different Indian languages, is about celebrating the return of Lord Ram to Ayodhya after defeating the tyrannical King Ravana. The holiday honors the prosperity and principles that the story of the Ramayana teaches the living generations of India, or arguably the subcontinent (the broader South Asian region historically linked by shared traditions, before the partition in 1947). Diwali at WashU focuses more on the present traditional and contemporary Indian culture, sidelining the Ramayana aspect.

The story of the Ramayana is so deeply embedded in India that different religions have developed their own versions of it — the Jain version is called “Paumacariya,” the Buddhist version, “Dasaratha Jataka,” and the Islamic version is called “Mappila Ramayanam.” In all of them, the core story remains the same: Lord Ram, along with his wife and younger brother, is exiled from his kingdom to fulfill his father’s promise. During the exile, Ram faces and defeats multiple demons; the evil King Ravana eventually kidnaps Ram’s wife, Sita, and Ram joins forces with the forest-dwelling tribes to defeat the king and return to his kingdom. This is the basic plot, though there are countless elements, interpretations, and layers. Every culture that traces its roots back to India, or in the case of Islam, migrated to India, has a version of the Ramayana, showing how influential the text has been across cultures. 

Ramayana’s influence on Indian culture is undeniable. It has taught countless moral lessons to both children and adults across India, including myself. Javed Akhtar, an atheist poet from India, called the Ramayana not just a religious text but a part of India’s “cultural heritage” and a symbol of “love and unity.”

Ashoka rightly honors the spirit of Diwali by donating its profits to a meaningful cause, but sidelining the Ramayana’s cultural significance in favour of a more secular showcase of Indian culture doesn’t resonate with me. Diwali means more than dressing up in Indian attire, enjoying sweetmeats, and having fireworks and performances. It is a day to recall the story that has, for generations, affirmed India’s belief that knowledge and goodness prevail over the ignorance of power and corruption. Even a simple acknowledgement of the Ramayana — whether in the performances or in the speeches — would do justice to the festival.