Navaratri the Echoes of Childhood

Every time Navaratri comes around, I find myself drifting back to my childhood. As a child brought up in a foreign land, away from my roots, festivals were more than rituals; they were bridges to a culture my parents were so eager to preserve. There’s a certain irony in how immigrant parents cling to their culture almost with an urgency to pass it down to their children. For us kids, it often felt like we were caught between two worlds. While our peers outside celebrated Halloween, Christmas we were learning different Indian dance forms (Bharatnatyam, Kuchipudi, Mohiniattam) or learning the veena or mridangam or learning Carnatic songs.

At the time, we didn’t fully understand why we did it. But we did it anyway because our parents wanted us to feel connected.

I remember those nine days of Navaratri with so much fondness. It was the time when our traditional attires, the beloved pattu pavadais came out of the closet. Each day, a new one, carefully matched with accessories. It was our mini ramp walk, flaunting our outfits among friends. More than the rituals or the Golu displays, it was the social buzz that excited us the sundal varieties, the sweets, the visits to different homes and of course playing with friends long after the prayers were done.

Later, when we moved to India, I was filled with excitement. If we celebrated festivals with such zeal in Abu Dhabi, imagine what it must be like in India! I thought I’d finally get to experience the “real” version of Navaratri.

But reality was different.

Here, the festival was celebrated, but in pockets. I didn’t receive invitations for all nine days. The rotation of pattu pavadais was no longer necessary. And for the first time, I saw that something I thought was sacred and grand was, for many just another festival maybe even taken for granted.

That’s when it struck me: in India culture is ambient. So, people don’t hold onto it with the same urgency. But for those away from home, culture is home. It’s their solace, their link to belonging. It's why they go the extra mile because it’s all they have to feel connected.

And that’s when I found myself longing for those Abu Dhabi Navaratris again.