Postcards from Malaysians celebrating Deepavali away from home

THIS time last year, to control the spread of the Covid-19 virus, the National Recovery Plan was in effect. The losses at the time stood close to 30,000 people and the collective toll of the pandemic was weighing down on Malaysians.

Deepavali celebrations were muted as a result. For the first time in three years, the fervour and mood of the festival are returning. PLUS reported an estimated 1.9 million vehicles on the North-South expressway, Deepavali bazaars are packed, and firecrackers can already be heard in many neighbourhoods.

For many Malaysians living abroad however, they have had to build their own versions of Deepavali, often in places where the festival is not recognised by the state.

The Vibes reached out to some of them, and their letters are reminders of the spirit of fellowship and camaraderie that we should all hold on to. 

Bringing light to autumn

Living away from Malaysia since the 90s, I've had to invent my own Deepavali celebrations. These have evolved from huge pots of curry cooked in the kitchens of dorms and residence halls and shared with friends, to, these days, dinner parties to which we invite other families with children.

Everywhere I've lived since leaving Malaysia, Deepavali hasn't been a public holiday, though I expect that will change as South Asian immigration into Western countries increases. But since the festival often falls on a school or working day here in France, we've tended to hold our celebrations on the closest weekend.

We make Malaysian-style Indian food, cobble together some Indian outfits, play Tamil or Hindi film music, and eat with our friends.

My children miss the Deepavalis we used to spend in Malaysia during their early childhood – the oil lamps, the sparklers – and so we try to do some of those things here as well. They are especially welcome during the late autumn, when the light is fading.

I think this is why so many cultures have festivals of light in what are the darkening months in the Northern Hemisphere; in some ways, a celebration of light in the darkness seems more apt and more necessary here, where the darkness falls earlier and is deeper.

This time of year, everyone could use a reminder that in darkness, we can make our own light.

Preeta Samarasan, France

Housewarming-Deepavali mashup party

Deepavali is extra merry for me this year. I've just moved into a new house in Geylang, Singapore so my housemates (two Malaysians, one Canadian and one cat from Bangi) are having a housewarming-Deepavali mashup party.

I’ll be making a short work trip to Kuala before returning on October 21. And I'm taking the opportunity to fill a large suitcase with Malaysian-made achi murukku, kuih semperit, pineapple tarts plus decorations and oil lamps I sourced from the Brickfields Deepavali bazaar, to fill my new home in Singapore.

I won’t be able to fly back for Deepavali weekend this year, but my Malaysian housemates and I have already booked our flights to vote for the coming election in person!

Melizarani T. Selva, Singapore

Joy in recreating traditions with friends

Deepavali or as I now dearly call the festival, Diwali, (only because it’s easier for me to get people here to pronounce it) has always been close to my heart. It’s a celebration of togetherness. I have a close-knit family back home.

Everyone would make a trip to Kedah for the family to come together (my grandparents and parents ensured that tradition stayed). As a kid, I would mentally count down months leading up to Diwali.

The anticipation builds with a tall list of chores from massive grocery shopping to flower arrangements, the scent of which would fill the house, to designing a kolam (my mum has always made flower arrangements a must-do even if it’s at 2am). 

Celebrating away from home has been tough but over the years I’ve found meaning in a different shade of togetherness with friends. I lived in Iowa, North Carolina but recently moved to Boston.

I have been privileged to be around friends who are excited to learn about new traditions and food. It brings life to the festival here, 9000 miles away from home. My fondest memory of Diwali was in 2020, when social distancing became a norm and personal interactions became a need.

Seven of my lovely friends (Compound Kawans as we dearly call each other) prepped food the night before at my apartment. We split responsibilities, drew Kolam at 12am in 8º Celsius and made murukku with a rather suspicious recipe we sourced online using the limited ingredients that we had (you can imagine the commotion and joy in a small space).

To top it all off, my friend Kavitha and I had been practicing a Bharatanatyam dance routine a week prior just so we can bring a little piece of that into our Diwali party. We picked our sarees.

There is an unexplainable joy in sharing traditions with friends. Running on just five hours of sleep, my friends came back the next morning to cook up a feast for the thirty people we would be hosting.

We shared a huge lunch served on banana leaf, took lots of photos, had wine tasting and played games. We lit lamps on the cold patio later that night. Many of my friends were experiencing this for the first time.

None of what we did were actual Diwali traditions I grew up with, but nevertheless it felt incredibly special. I sometimes feel that moments like these are defining inflection points to culture and identity. 

I carry pieces of home with me always – between my mum’s recipes which I have only learnt to make in the US, traditions of fireworks, kolam, Bharatanatyam and the need to fill my apartment with flowers on Diwali.

Sometimes I introspect what they mean to me at a deeper level and a new meaning is found. Diwali has always been about togetherness yet that bound moves fluidly every year. As a ‘nomad’ away from home, I am looking forward to what is in store this year culturally and spiritually.

Vidya Velloo, Boston, United States

A community affair

Since Deepavali is not a recognised public holiday in the UK, I will take a day off from work. Usually, on Deepavali day, we do meditation together as a family and after that start calling our family and friends in Malaysia to wish them.

Either in the afternoon or evening, we will gather at someone's house, along with a few friends to celebrate the occasion.

Deepavali nights are a much grander affair. We rent out the nearby school hall, and usually around 150 to 200 people from the community join us. We have been doing this for the past 6 years. This year the celebration will be on October 29, and everyone is looking forward to the day.

Murali Ramaswamy, United Kingdom

Embracing the novelty

Deepavali! Festival of lights! Holidays! Road trips up the North-South Expressway! Open houses! Gathering with cousins staying up until dawn binging on murukku and my grandmother’s coconut candy. My mother's mutton curry and a day filled with laughter and chatter with busloads of family and friends visiting and never-ending goodbyes.

All these memories come flooding back when I think of Deepavali, and it hits harder being away from home and in a foreign land. It will be different this year, but the difference is good! I start my day by visiting the temple and I hang around to soak in the sight and sounds of the day. I sit and watch families gather, sharing their prasadam (offerings).

There is no way my day is not going to be filled with curry, grease and mutton and it is awesome that Indian food is not hard to find here. I make my pilgrimage to Little India and leave with bags of Indian sweets.

In the evening I light a diya (carefully) and put on a traditional dress. I have another round of Indian food and sweets, this time among friends. We play board games, and we laugh, share a drink or two and reminisce about our Deepavalis back home and how life has brought us all together.

All of it sounds cliched but being away from home has taught me to hold on to moments like these and to remember the spirit of Deepavali.

Kareshma Suresh, Singapore – The Vibes, October 24, 2022