It is the festival of lights. It is Diwali time. There is just one problem. It hardly feels like it is Diwali. There is no buzz in the air or a sense of purpose that you see on most minds. Well, there is a reason... this is the US of A and not India. And while I live in arguably the 31st state of India, New Jersey, it is still not the same.
For one, there are no firecrackers, diyas - earthen oil lamps that dote the landscape. There are no adhoc sweet-shops or elaborately dressed individuals heading to their friends house or better still, to the temple. You will find the odd dot-head draped in a saree covered by the warmth of black Ralph Lauren over-coats. But that is all. For a community that boasts of the number of South Asians that it has, it is entirely strange and quizzical.
Well, we wouldn't let our brethren dampen our spirits would we? With all the enthusiasm befit of the festival, we decided to take the trek to the local temple. Well, local is two hours away. We got up bright and early. Ummm... errr... not entirely. With no mom or grand-mom to wake us up, we managed to get up at a leisurely quarter past six. That is, after seven snoozes on the alarms. I showered in the traditional manner with coconut oil and the works. Why? For the kicks. I don't think I appeciated it back in India. Apparently, I now do. Wearing the new janevu - sacred thread, I offered whatever prayers that I knew. It is a shame, given that my grand-dad can read and recite all the hindu religious books in chaste Sanskrit and often performs religious ceremonies.
Finally, dressed in new clothes and super charged up, we set out for the temple. The temple is in Flushing, NY. I live in Jersey City, NJ. That is the meaning of a local temple. The average time for travel is typically 90-120 mins. To get a sense of the travel, click here. Anyway, this was my first time and I was super excited. After four train journeys [yes, four], we finally arrived in Flushing. Well, not at the temple. This was now a bus ride away. I asked myself, why on earth would anyone build a temple so far. Again, I reminded myself, we are not in India. We are in NY and its sky-rocketed real-estate prices. I should hardly be complaining. I wasn't.
We had to take the MTA bus. The problem was that we got confused and took the wrong bus. Next, we got off at the wrong stop. Actually, we realized that we were lost and decided to get off. Thank god for friends, google maps and hopstop.com. After fifteen minutes of help from friends, who directed us in the right direction, we got to the temple site.
The temple was under construction. There was a shiver down our spine as we wondered if the temple was in fact shut for construction. Luckily for us, it was not. As we entered, we saw tam families enter with exquisite sarees and other Indian fare. We on the other hand were dressed normally. My friend gave me a don't blame me look: don't look at me, I have to goto work after this. We convinced ourselves that god would appreciate our sacrifices in coming all the way out there and ignore any irrelevant details.
The temple - a Ganesh temple, was a nice temple. There was some good artwork and despite the constuction activity and NY location had the aura of a temple. We were in time for aarti. After praying to Lord Ganpati for a good job and other things, we prayed to the other deities there as well.
We then went to the famed cafeteria [Hindu temples generally have great food] for some food. True to its reputation, we had some wonderful South Indian food. As was expected, my South Indian tam-bram friend didn't think too highly of the food. Yet, it was appreciated given the circumstances.
Tangent: South Indian tam-brams will hardly appreciate anything other than their own mother's cooking. Understandably so.
We also picked up some chakli - spicy Indian snacks and some barfi and halwa - Indian sweets.
Happy with our journey, we decided to get back to the city and back to our lives in school. And while I had an exam on the day of Diwali and another the day after Laxmi Puja - festival of the goddess of wealth, we did try and enjoy our diwali. It is interesting to note that both these exams were conducted by Indian professors. B-ah! Bloody Indians!
Diwali night was capped with a wonderful and stuffing-oneself dinner at the Tiffin Wallah, a fine Indian vegeterian-kosher restaurant.
All in all, it was a wonderful Diwali experience. I still do miss the Sutli-bomb, the lights and the sweets. But, it was a good experience, given the circumstances.
For the record, Sutli-bomb is not the same as a Sultry Bomb. I am sure everyone likes those. A Sutli-bomb is a fire-cracker with a fuse called the sutli. It generates a loud explosion and is standard fare for Diwali. Just for the record, these crackers are handled by children and peace-loving individuals, not kalashnikov-totting terrorists.
The next plan is to have a taash [poker] session on the weekend. Plan is to start in the evening and go through the night. Diwali, I would say was well enjoyed.
Parting notes
Mr. Landlord: Do not worry a bit. As instructed, we did not light any diyas at home. I understand your fear of fire. Especially given that you have chosen not to repair the fire-alarm.
Mr. Obama: Thank you for your wishes. They cut no ice. Not that I can vote, but that does not mean I cannot have an opinion. Go McCain!
ABCDs and Socialists: Don't be so shocked. Obama is no good. And get that Bloody Indians! look off your face.
Finance Guys: May Laxmi Puja mark the start of an economic revival. May things look up again.
