Shamshad Kralawari
In every faith, every tradition, light has been a metaphor for truth, for awakening, for unity. Yet in our times, we have mistaken the ritual for the revelation. We celebrate festivals across religions with grandeur, but forget the messages they were meant to carry — of oneness, humility, and harmony with nature. We light lamps, break bread, chant prayers — but do we listen?
“Naqsh-e-khushboo ko mita sakta hai kaun,
Jo hawaon mein likha ho woh fasana hai koi.”
(Who can erase the trace of fragrance?
That which is written in the winds is no ordinary tale.)
The winds of history carry such tales — of civilizations that rose in reverence and fell in arrogance. When humanity forgets its place in the web of life, when it violates the balance of nature, the earth responds — not in vengeance, but in correction. Floods, fires, famine, and silence follow not as curses, but as consequences.
We are not above nature. We are its entrusted guests.
“Insaan agar fitrat se kare dosti,
Har mausam mein milegi roshni.”
(If man befriends nature,
Every season will offer light.)
Deepawali, in its truest sense, is not about lighting the sky — it is about lighting the soul. What changes when the house glows but the heart is dark? What is the use of a thousand diyas if we cannot see the suffering of our neighbor, the hunger of a child, the loneliness of an elder?
The Bhagavad Gita reminds us:
“When the light of knowledge dawns, ignorance vanishes like darkness before the rising sun.”
But knowledge is not information. It is transformation. It is the courage to see clearly — to recognize that our rituals have become hollow when they do not lead to compassion.
“Jab tak na jale andar ka diya,
Har roshni hai sirf saaya.”
(Until the inner lamp is lit,
Every light is but a shadow.)
We must ask: are we celebrating Deepawali, Eid, Christmas, Gurpurab, or Baisakhi as acts of remembrance — or as spectacles of indulgence? Do we honor the prophets, the saints, the sages — or do we merely decorate their names?
The law of nature is simple: when actions are misaligned, reactions follow. When we pollute rivers, they flood. When we cut forests, the air chokes. When we divide people, society fractures. And when we forget the sacredness of life, life forgets us.
“Zameen pe rahmat thi jab tak insaan rahbar tha,
Ab to har manzar mein khauf ka manzar hai.”
(The earth was merciful when man was a guide,
Now every scene is a shadow of fear.)
Let this Deepawali be different. Let it not be about gold, but about grace. Not about crackers, but about conscience. Let us light a lamp for the earth, for the forgotten, for the future. Let us clean not just our homes, but our habits. Let us speak not just sweet words, but truthful ones.
And above all, let us remember:
“Khuda ke noor se roshan hai har rooh,
Bas aankhon ko roshni chahiye dekhne ke liye.”
(Every soul is lit by the divine light,
All it needs is the eye to see.)
This is the Deepawali the world needs — not a night of noise, but a dawn of awareness. Not a festival of possession, but a prayer for presence. Not a ritual of repetition, but a renewal of responsibility.
Let us not wait for another calamity to remind us of our place in the order of things. Let us become the light that does not burn out — because it burns with truth.
Retrospection: The Fourth Day’s Question
On the fourth day of Deepawali, as the lamps are dim and the echoes of celebration faded away,a quiet question arises:
Have these days of festivity truly changed us? Or have they only filled the air with smoke, noise, and distraction?
“If the lamp within remains unlit,
Every outer light is but a shadow.”
The bursting of crackers may have lit up the sky, but did it light up our conscience? Did we awaken to the spirit of Deepawali — or did we bury it beneath the rubble of indulgence and pollution?
The true essence of this festival — cleansing the heart, awakening the soul, and living in harmony with nature — cannot be fulfilled by ritual alone. It requires reflection
“When celebration becomes spectacle,
The message is lost in the noise.”
Let this fourth day not be just a pause for rest, but a moment for introspection. Ask yourself:
Did I brighten someone’s life? Did I forgive someone? Did I feed someone in need?
If not, then Deepawali is not yet complete.
Shamshad Kralawari is a poet, literary critic, and public broadcaster ,educator whose work bridges Kashmiri memory, ethical verse, and civic reform. Through editorial activism and dialogic teaching, he challenges symbolic appropriation and advocates for cultural stewardship.
