The Persistence of Light
Today is Diwali, and I write this in a year that has been characterized by darkness — by sickness, injustice, and uncertainty. And for that reason, this year, Diwali — the celebration of the inevitable triumph of light over darkness — seems all the more special. To be celebrating anything at all feels like a light in itself. Today, I remember the celebrations this year that have given me hope, and the people I’ve shared them with, who represent light in a time of obscurity.
One of the first celebrations I witnessed since the beginning of quarantine was my birthday in September, with no hopes of rejoicing. We were, after all, in a pandemic. But my friends and family endlessly gave: I was surprised by thoughtful texts, mini cakes dropped off at my doorstep, and surprise Zoom parties. As I sat through these experiences, I was struck by the compassion and love of my friends and family. I realized that lockdown had been harrowing because I knew love like this, isolation was hard because I knew bonds like this, being alone was foreign because I knew cohesion like this. What struck me more was that they gave despite living in a world that was, at the time, characterized by loss — they chose to show up anyways. It was an act of love unlike anything I had ever experienced; a light in the backdrop of darkness.
My parents’ silver jubilee anniversary was in mid-November, and it was an event for which I had always dreamed of throwing a surprise party. Instead, my sister and I asked our loved ones to send us videos, where they each gave personal speeches for my parents. Again, friends and family showed up with thought, love, care, calls from afar, unexpected and very welcome. Today, during Diwali, another major celebration this year, as I watch candles liven our home, I think about these moments which have provided light, clarity, and love, in a year that felt otherwise bleak.
Light is that which persists against anything that tries to cover it. It shines despite, and especially because of darkness around it. It fights as does a lit wick in a shadowed room, a moon in a nighttime sky, the sun in an ever-expanding universe. This light is the love of my friends, who still text to see if all is okay, call to hear about the minutiae of everyday life even though nothing has changed, celebrate our little wins together, even while — and perhaps especially because — we live in a world characterized by so much loss, all the time, every day. Like a ray of light, their love has shown the path forward, day by day, persisting against all odds, pushing against the darkness that currently pervades social life (or lack thereof), politics, and our health systems.
Our light this year, no matter how much we wanted it to be, was not the actions of our leaders, nor was it the policies that were designed to protect us. In the absence of these, we turned instead, to our loved ones. Celebrations amidst uncertainty, poll working amidst suppression, protests amidst racist acts, were ways of persisting against efforts trying to cast a shadow. Our light was everyday acts of people who showed up — for us or for our society — giving us borrowed strength. When we lost our routines and our certainty, we learned that these were never the golden standard for knowing the way forward anyway. Today, I’m reminded of these acts of love and persistence, happening despite — and especially because of the darkness around — giving light that I hope sustains me for the year to come.