Diwali comes from Deepavali, "a row of lamps." Not a row of explosions. Over the years, we've let the noise drown out the glow, forgetting that Diwali celebrates light's victory over darkness. It was never a contest for the loudest bang in the neighbourhood. Then comes the morning after, the same every year. A grey haze hangs over our cities, eyes sting, coughs linger and the air quality index lurches into the hazardous zone. Children, the elderly and anyone with asthma or a weak chest get the worst of it. So this Diwali has to be green. And no, that doesn't mean dull. Most of what it takes is already part of the festival.
Start with the diya. Clay lamps lit with ghee or sesame oil are the festival's truest symbol, and they biodegrade. They're also a livelihood for the potters who wait all year for this season. Buy earthen, buy local, and skip imported plastic novelties. For the rest of the house, energy-efficient LED strings will do. Just switch them off before bed. The same goes for decoration. Rangoli made of flower petals, rice flour and natural colours looks far more alive than synthetic powders. Marigold and mango-leaf toranas, fresh flowers and potted plants can transform a doorway. A sapling beats another box of dry fruits as a gift. It'll still be here next Diwali.
Then there's the mithai, half the point of Diwali. Make it at home, or buy from the neighbourhood halwai instead of heavily packaged boxes. Share it widely: with the domestic help, the watchman, the neighbour you rarely speak to. Pick reusable containers over glossy single-use wrapping, and cook only what will be eaten. Far too much festive food ends up in the bin.
Above all, make time for people. Diwali is the family gathered around the puja, cousins trading gossip, friends dropping in unannounced, a card game that runs past midnight. A lit diya shared is worth more than a hundred crackers burst. If you can't resist a little sparkle, choose certified green crackers, sparingly and only where permitted, and keep them away from hospitals, animals and elderly neighbours. Better still, let children make lanterns or paint diyas. The fun lasts longer, and it costs the planet nothing.
Part of the darkness Diwali asks us to dispel is our own indifference: to the air we breathe, and to the neighbours breathing it beside us. Ayodhya welcomed Ram home with a row of lamps. This year, light a diya, pass the sweets around, hug whoever's closest, and then wake up to a morning when you can see across the street. Shubh Deepavali!
The Gift of Light: Why Diwali Calls for Something That illuminates life
In an Indian home, light has always done more than help people see. It sets the mood of a room before anyone speaks. Good lighting isn't only about brightness. It's about warmth, the kind that makes a home feel as though it has finally exhaled after a long year. No festival understands this better than Diwali. Collections such as 1EVA by FOS Lighting show how wide that range can be, from chandeliers with hand-painted glass inspired by Rajasthan's palaces to Moroccan jaali pendants and towering antique-brass candelabras.A light fixture chosen with this kind of care does more than illuminate. It gives a room its character, gathers stories around it and slowly becomes part of a family's visual memory. That's what makes it the rare Diwali gift that outlives the occasion: something you live with long enough to call an heirloom. This year, give a light that stays.