Diwali 2015: Why mums are the real heroes of this Hindu festival

This is my first Diwali as a mum and I haven’t done anything to prepare for it.

I’ve always relied on my own mother to clean the house, create a beautiful rangoli (decorative coloured powder), make Indian sweets and host the entire extended family. But as her hair gets greyer and I inch further into my thirties, I’m starting to feel like I’ll soon need to man up and assume that ‘mum’ responsibility myself (my daughter being just six-months-old is my current excuse not to).

Diwali is among the most popular festivals marked by Hindus and relished as a day of family, feasting and fireworks. As a religion rich in symbolism, the lighting of oil lamps and candles represents the victory of noble virtues over negative forces.

It’s also a day on which the feminine divine Goddess Lakshmi is invoked in the form of a puja (devotional prayer). As the goddess of wealth, she is – as you can imagine – popular in many households.

“She’s welcome in my home if she brings lots of money,” announced my uncle, as we made plans for our 2015 family celebration.

Few of us perhaps realise that she doesn’t exist in the Hindu pantheon simply as a symbol of ‘getting rich quick’; rather she is said to represent what it means to be rich in spiritual values.

Referred to as ‘Mother Lakshmi’ the goddess stands for all those awesomely unimaginable things women are only capable of once they become mums. (And having recently become one for the first time, I should know)

Elevated to worshipable status for her ability to give unselfishly, the Hindu tradition places high value on the role of the mother.

No pressure then.

“It’s the mother who keeps the family together…even when it’s not easy,” my mum reminded me as she prepared the house for festivity.

Also high up among the expectations placed on a Hindu mother is instilling our culture in future generations. In fact from the moment of conception, the onus is on the woman to maintain noble thoughts throughout pregnancy for the well-being of her growing foetus.

With pregnancy behind me and a first Diwali to enjoy with my baby daughter, I am now contemplating my ability to pull off future celebrations in a way that might possibly match my own mother’s.

The outlook is admittedly a little hazy, because modern mums are busy people - and it's rare to find a modern dad who knows how to make laddo and burfi. Their own dads typically wouldn't have been in the kitchen, and so those recipes and traditions are rarely passed on to the boys. (Though hopefully that might change).

Today with careers, children and hectic homes to handle, Hindu women's lives are often rooted in chaos; we’re barely able to clutch on to traditions at all. Thankfully sites like Lifehacker India offer kitchen tricks for any uninvited guests that turn up during Diwali, while online articles boast 10-minute turnaround Indian sweet recipes.

My 35 year-old sister-in-law advises a government minister three days a week and cooks traditional Indian food, while playing hide-and-seek with her three-year-old son on the remaining days. She feels prioritising Diwali in a fast-paced lifestyle has to be a conscious choice we make as mothers.

“There was something very wholesome about Diwali when I was growing up. Mum would begin preparing for it months before and it was the highlight of the year. As long as our parents are around we think it’s their responsibility – we haven’t really learnt how or what to do for our children,” she explains.

But another friend feels differently. Since her mother passed away, Diwali has been just another incidental dinner engagement in her busy life as an investment banker.

“I’ll probably just celebrate by going for dinner with my husband”, she tells me.

She confesses it’s a little unfortunate when she recalls her own flamboyant childhood celebrations: “It seems a shame to let all that go…I really do hope I do something more when I have a family.”

And that’s what seems to be the critical link in all of this. Motherhood.

Part of the charm of lighting oil lamps or candles during Diwali is seeing how something so small can emanate beauty and joy, and spread it further - dispelling a little more darkness.

My metaphorical oil lamp is currently dimly lit. But reflecting on the effort and importance I’ll give to Diwali as a mother in the years to come, I’d like to think it’ll soon be a light that will shine more brightly.

So that as time goes by, it could eventually ignite the same appreciation in my daughter for this Hindu festival, culture and heritage during her lifetime. And so that, if she has a family of her own, she can pass on those traditions with light in her heart.