Happy Diwali!

November 5th was Diwali, the Festival of Lights, perhaps India’s most important religious holiday. Diwali celebrates a story from the Hindu Ramayana in which Lord Rama returns from the jungle after a 14-year exile. To celebrate the return of their king and to guide him home, the people of the city of Ayodhya illuminate the kingdom with oil lamps and fireworks.

In terms of decorations and activities, Diwali is like the noisy lovechild of Christmas and the 4th of July. In the early evening of Friday, Nov. 5th we walked down the hill into town, admiring the houses and shops decorated with strings of lights and garlands of plastic flowers. People were out in droves, buying sweets (mitai) and small presents for their families. One common candy that I sampled was crystallized pumpkin, which tasted more like unadulterated sugar than it did pumpkin, but was totally delicious! As it began to get dark, people put little clay dishes with oil and wicks out on their doorsteps, casting tiny flickering lights to guide Lord Rama home from his banishment.

We ate dinner in a shop in the Landour bazaar, and on emerging an hour later into the dark, found ourselves in Mogadishu rather than Mussourie! Fireworks are another major component of Diwali, and from about 8pm the youth of the nation was out on the streets, letting off all manner of firecracker and explosive noisemakers (appropriately known as “bombs”). Total chaos ensued as the narrow streets echoed with the boom and crack of colorful explosives. One popular game seemed to be “drop a sonic boom firecracker right behind the foreigners and scare the s*** out of them”. I didn’t enjoy this game so much, but the whole city rumbling with light and noise was a sight to see.

As we walked up the hill towards home, the lights of Dehradun down in the valley became visible. It looked like there was a civil war going on down there, with flashes and sprinklings of color blossoming every second amidst the city lights! I hate to think about the number of kids that may have lost a finger or two during the course of the evening, but everyone who didn’t blow their hands off surely had a great time.




These next two pictures are of men making a super sticky-sweet dessert called (I think) gulabi, which also means "pink"

Where I am

Landour, my current location, is a high-altitude suburb of Mussourie, a town of a little less than 30,000 people perched in the Himalayan foothills at an elevation of 6,000ft. Dehradun, the state capital of Uttarakhand State, is about 30 km away, although it takes the better part of 2 hours to get there due to the winding roads and precipitous contours of this landscape. The hillsides surrounding Mussourie are heavily forested with mixed pine, rhododendron, and oak forests.

Known as the “Queen of the Hills” to the British Raj, Mussourie was a popular retreat from the summer heat of the plains for the British. During the 19th century, the Mall (the local equivalent of Main Street) reportedly sported signs saying things like “Indians and Dogs Not Allowed”.

Middle class Indians now come to Mussourie in droves during the hot season. The west end of the Mall is popular with honeymooning Indian couples. In contrast, the east end, where Mussourie ends and Landour begins, supports a conspicuously large population of videshi, aka white foreigners, studying Hindi at the Landour Language School.

Mussourie is an affluent place, with much higher literacy rates than the average in India (86% compared to 60% overall). Several important institutions and schools were originally founded to serve the families of British army and government officials, and now cater to Indian students. One notable example is the Woodstock School, a Christian, international residential school founded in the 1850’s. This week the Woodstock School hosted something called the Mountain Writer’s Festival – I mooched in on a couple of poetry readings and musical performances – my primary motivation may or may not have been to get a free cup of tea.

Mussourie is a beautiful, but like most of India, suffers from its own share of environmental ills. The town’s booming popularity as a tourist destination has led to over-development. Garbage collection and water scarcity are also perennial problems. A number of beautiful views around Landour are marred by rivers of garbage statically flowing down ravines.