Diwali: Meaning, Traditions, Rituals, Food and Why We Celebrate

You can always tell Diwali is near in a Marathi home. The steel dabbas come down from the top shelf. Someone is sent to the market for “just besan” and returns with three bags and no besan. The kitchen smells of hot oil from morning to night, and every child in the house suddenly develops an interest in helping, which mostly means testing whether the chakli is ready. (It is always ready. That is the problem.)

Then come the lanterns, the rangoli colours, the new clothes that must not be worn before the right day, and the annual debate about whether the akash kandil looks straight. It never looks straight.

We do all of this every year, often on autopilot. We bathe before sunrise on one day, light a lamp facing south on another, and wait for a sister’s aarti on the last. But how often do we stop and ask why?

That is what this article is about. Diwali, or Deepavali, is a festival of lights that symbolises the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance. Hindus, Jains and Sikhs each mark it for their own reasons, and in Maharashtra it unfolds over five or six days, each with its own story. Below, we walk through the meaning behind the main Diwali traditions and rituals, with special attention to how they are observed in Maharashtra, so that the next time someone asks “why do we do this?”, you have a good answer ready. Ideally with a chakli in hand.

What Is Diwali?

The word Diwali comes from the Sanskrit dipavali, which means “a row of lights”. Dipa is a lamp and avali is a row. Picture a line of clay diyas along a balcony railing and you have the whole festival in one word.

The festival falls in the lunar months of Ashvin and Kartik, usually in October or November, and its central night is Amavasya, the darkest night of the month. That timing is the heart of the symbolism. Lighting lamps on the darkest night of the year is not decoration. It is a statement: darkness is real, but it can be pushed back, one small flame at a time.

Diwali carries meaning on several levels at once:

• Religious: it honours deities and events from Hindu, Jain and Sikh traditions, which we look at below.
• Spiritual: the lamp stands for knowledge, and darkness for ignorance. Many families see Diwali as a reminder to clean the mind as well as the house.
• Social: it is the season of visiting, gifting faral, settling old accounts and opening new ones. In many trading communities, the new financial year begins around Diwali.
• Family: it is one of the few times in the year when cousins, aunts, grandparents and that one uncle who only appears for festivals are all under one roof.

That last point may be the most underrated. For many of us, Diwali is less a set of rituals than a set of people.

Why Do We Celebrate Diwali?

Ask five people why we celebrate Diwali and you may get five different answers. None of them is wrong. Diwali is not one story told everywhere. It is several stories, held by different communities, that happen to meet on the same few nights.

Lord Rama’s return to Ayodhya

This is the story most of us heard first. In the Ramayana tradition, Rama returns to Ayodhya with Sita and Lakshman after fourteen years of exile and his victory over Ravana, and the people light lamps to welcome him home. It is the reason Ayodhya now lights its ghats with lakhs of diyas every Diwali.

Lord Krishna and Narakasura

In many parts of India, especially the south and west, the day before the main Diwali night recalls Krishna’s defeat of the demon Narakasura. Some versions credit Krishna’s wife Satyabhama with the final blow. This story is the root of Naraka Chaturdashi and the early-morning bath that Maharashtrian children love to complain about.

Goddess Lakshmi

The Amavasya night is dedicated to Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and wellbeing. Puranic tradition links her to the churning of the ocean, the samudra manthan, from which she emerged. Families and businesses worship her that evening, often with Ganesha and Kubera.

King Bali

In Maharashtra and Karnataka, the day after Lakshmi Puja honours Bali, the generous asura king whom Vishnu, as Vamana, sent to the underworld. Tradition says he was granted a yearly return to his people, which is why his day is also called Bali Pratipada.

For Jains

Diwali marks the nirvana of Lord Mahavira, the 24th Tirthankara, at Pavapuri in present-day Bihar. Jain tradition dates this to 527 BCE.

For Sikhs

the day is Bandi Chhor Divas, the “day of liberation”. It commemorates Guru Hargobind, the sixth Sikh Guru, leaving Gwalior Fort in 1619 and securing the release of 52 imprisoned princes along with him. His return to Amritsar coincided with Diwali, and the Harmandir Sahib is illuminated every year in his memory.

The Meaning Behind the Ritual: Each tradition lights lamps for its own reason, but every story is about a return, a release or a victory. Light is how people have always said “something good has happened here”.

The Five Days of Diwali: Traditions and Their Meaning

The five days of Diwali run from Dhanteras to Bhau Beej. In Maharashtra, many families add a sixth at the start, Vasu Baras, which we cover in the next section. Because the days follow the lunar calendar, two of them sometimes fall on the same date. Do not be alarmed if your panchang says Naraka Chaturdashi and Lakshmi Puja are both “today”. Your mother will simply ask you to wake up early and stay up late.

1. Dhanteras or Dhanatrayodashi

What it signifies: Dhanteras falls on the 13th lunar day (trayodashi) of the dark fortnight. Dhan means wealth, so the day is linked with prosperity. It is also associated with Dhanvantari, the physician of the gods and the deity of Ayurveda, who in Puranic tradition emerged from the churning of the ocean carrying a pot of amrit.

Common practices: Families buy something new and lasting, often gold, silver or a metal vessel, and worship Lakshmi and Kubera in the evening. Many Maharashtrian households also light a lamp for Yama, the lord of death, on this evening, a custom known as Yamadeepdaan, as a prayer for the family’s long life.

Why families do it: The purchase is less about shopping and more about starting the season with something that endures. The Dhanvantari link is a gentle reminder that health is the first wealth.

For a modern family: You do not need to buy gold. A new steel vessel, a plant, or even a good book can carry the same intention. Tell the children about Dhanvantari while you are at it. Any story involving a pot of immortality tends to hold their attention.

2. Naraka Chaturdashi

What it commemorates: In many traditions, this is the day Krishna defeated the demon Narakasura, freeing the people he had held captive.

Common practices: In Maharashtra this is the day of Abhyang Snan, the ritual oil bath before sunrise. In many homes, a small bitter fruit called karit is crushed underfoot before the bath, symbolising the defeat of Narakasura. Lamps are lit, rangoli is drawn, and the first plate of faral is finally, officially allowed.

Why families do it: Bathing before dawn and crushing something bitter is a neat piece of symbolism. You remove the old and the unpleasant before the light arrives.

For a modern family: Even in a small flat with a geyser that takes ten minutes to warm up, the early bath and a single diya at the door keep the meaning intact. Let the children crush the karit. It is the only time they are encouraged to stamp on fruit.

3. Lakshmi Puja

What it signifies: The Amavasya night, the main night of Diwali, is dedicated to Goddess Lakshmi. Families pray for prosperity, harmony and wellbeing in the year ahead.

Common practices: In the evening, the home is lit with diyas and lanterns, and Lakshmi is worshipped, often along with Ganesha and Kubera. In many Maharashtrian homes, the puja includes coins, jewellery, account books and a broom, which some families treat as a symbol of Lakshmi because it keeps the home clean. Shops and offices perform their own puja, and many traders close old account books and begin new ones.

Why families do it: Lakshmi is welcomed into a home that is clean, bright and orderly. That is why the cleaning, the lights and the rangoli all build towards this night.

For a modern family: Invite the children to place something they value on the puja thali, such as a school certificate or a favourite pen, and talk about what “wealth” means beyond money.

4. Bali Pratipada or Diwali Padwa

What it commemorates: Bali Pratipada honours King Bali. In one well-known version, Vishnu as Vamana sent Bali to the underworld but granted him a lamp and the right to return to his people once a year. Pratipada (padva in Marathi) means the first day of the lunar fortnight, so this day opens the bright half of Kartik.

Common practices: In Maharashtra, Padwa is famous as a celebration of husbands and wives. The wife performs aukshan, an aarti for her husband, and he gives her a gift. Many families also draw images of Bali in rangoli, and businesses mark the start of a new year. In north India, the same day is observed as Govardhan Puja.

Why families do it: Bali is remembered as a generous ruler, and the day is about honouring the people who hold a household together.

For a modern family: The gift is optional. The gratitude is not. And yes, the husband is allowed to say “thank you” for the faral too.

5. Bhau Beej or Bhai Dooj

What it commemorates: Bhau Beej falls on the second lunar day (dwitiya) of Kartik’s bright fortnight. In a widely told legend, Yamuna invited her brother Yama, lord of death, to her home many times. When he finally came, she fed him lovingly, and he granted that brothers who visit their sisters on this day would be protected from untimely death. That is why it is also called Yama Dwitiya. Another version links the day to Krishna visiting his sister Subhadra.

Common practices: The sister performs aarti for her brother, applies a tilak, and feeds him a festive meal. The brother gives a gift. In many Maharashtrian families, women without a brother perform the aarti for the moon, sometimes called chandrabhau.

Why families do it: It is a day to say, out loud and with food, “I want you safe”.

For a modern family: Cousins, friends and neighbours count. If a sibling lives abroad, a video call aarti is still an aarti, even if the brother keeps freezing mid-blessing.

Aaplya Parampara, Aapli Olakh: Ask an elder in your family which of these five days mattered most in their childhood, and why. You may be surprised by the answer.

Maharashtrian Diwali Traditions: What Makes Them Special?

Every region celebrates Diwali in its own accent. Here is what gives Diwali traditions in Maharashtra their particular flavour. Customs differ from district to district and even from one side of the family to the other, so treat this as a picture of common practice, not a rulebook. If your aaji does it differently, your aaji wins.

Vasu Baras (वसुबारस). For many Marathi families, Diwali begins a day before Dhanteras with Vasu Baras, also called Govatsa Dwadashi. In the evening, a cow and her calf are worshipped and offered food, often made of wheat. Many mothers keep a fast for their children’s wellbeing. In cities, where a cow is harder to find than a parking spot, families worship a picture or small idol of a cow and calf instead. The cow is honoured as a symbol of nourishment and motherhood.

Abhyang Snan (अभ्यंगस्नान). On Naraka Chaturdashi, the household wakes before sunrise for an oil massage and bath. Warm oil is rubbed in, followed by utane (उटणे), the fragrant ubtan paste of gram flour, turmeric and herbs that every family buys or mixes in its own proportions. Then comes the bath, often with a special scented soap kept aside just for this morning. Generations of children have tried to negotiate a later start. Generations of mothers have said no. Afterwards there is aarti, new clothes, and the first faral of the season.

Diwali faral (दिवाळी फराळ). No Marathi Diwali is complete without faral, the festive spread of sweet and savoury snacks made at home in the weeks before. We give it its own section below, because it deserves one.

Akash kandil (आकाश कंदील). The “sky lantern” hung outside homes is one of the most recognisable sights of a Maharashtrian Diwali. Families once built them from bamboo sticks and coloured paper. Today you will find everything from star shapes to eco-friendly cloth lanterns, but the homemade one still gets the most compliments, especially when it is slightly lopsided.

Rangoli and torans (रांगोळी आणि तोरण). Rangoli is drawn at the doorstep every morning of the festival, and marigold and mango-leaf torans are hung across the entrance. More on their meaning in the next section.

Killa (किल्ला). A much-loved custom in Maharashtra is children building mud forts in the courtyard or building compound, inspired by the forts of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. Mumbai’s CSMVS museum describes these forts as a popular Diwali tradition in Maharashtra and north Karnataka. Expect muddy hands, tiny clay soldiers, and at least one argument about whose fort is closer to Raigad.

Diwali Padwa (दिवाळी पाडवा). For married couples, Padwa is a special day. The wife performs aukshan for her husband, and he gives her a gift. For newly married couples, the first Diwali Padwa is a big occasion, often celebrated at the wife’s parental home. Padwa is also one of the sade-teen muhurta (three and a half auspicious days) in Marathi tradition, considered a good day to begin something new.

Bhau Beej (भाऊबीज). Sisters perform the aukshan for their brothers, who sit on a low wooden pat surrounded by rangoli. It is the last big day of Diwali and, for many families, the busiest, because everyone is visiting everyone.

Aaplya Parampara, Aapli Olakh: Learn the Marathi name of one tradition you have always observed but never named. Abhyang snan, aukshan, utane: say them out loud to your children this year.

Why Do We Light Diyas, Make Rangoli and Decorate Our Homes?

Many Diwali customs have no single “official” meaning. Different families and texts offer different explanations, and most of these are symbolic readings handed down over generations rather than recorded history. Here are the interpretations you will hear most often.

Lighting diyas. The diya is the festival’s signature. A small clay lamp with oil and a cotton wick stands for knowledge pushing back ignorance, hope pushing back fear, and welcome. In the Rama story, lamps greet a homecoming. On Lakshmi Puja night, they invite the goddess in. On a practical level, a row of lamps on Amavasya simply makes the darkest night beautiful.

The Meaning Behind the Ritual: One diya does not light a city. But one diya lights the next one, and that is how a whole street ends up glowing.

Making rangoli. Rangoli at the threshold is a sign of welcome for guests and for the divine. It also marks the home as cared for. Designs range from simple dots and lines (thipakyanchi rangoli) to elaborate coloured patterns. Because it is swept away and redrawn, many see it as a reminder that beauty is meant to be made again and again, not kept forever.

Hanging torans and flowers. Torans of marigold and mango leaves at the doorway are an old sign of an auspicious occasion in many Indian homes. Fresh leaves and flowers also signal that the household is alive, prepared and ready to receive.

Putting up an akash kandil. The lantern hung high outside the home lets light be seen from a distance. One popular explanation is that it guides blessings and visitors to the house. Whatever the reason, it turns every building into a small festival of shapes and colours.

Cleaning the house before Diwali. Diwali cleaning is the family’s annual archaeological dig. You set out to clean one shelf and uncover school certificates, three dead torches, a wedding invitation from 2014, and a box of wires that “might be useful”. The symbolic meaning is straightforward: Lakshmi is welcomed into a clean, orderly home. The practical meaning is just as real. After the monsoon, homes need airing, dusting and repairs. Diwali gives everyone a deadline.

Diwali Faral

In a Marathi home, faral is not a menu. It is a production schedule. Some families start a week or two before Diwali, working through one item a day while the kitchen fills with the sound of sizzling oil and the press of the chakli mould.

The usual cast includes:

• Chakli (चकली): the spiral, crunchy, savoury star of the show, pressed through a mould and fried. A perfect chakli has crisp ridges. A broken one is “for tasting”, which is why so many get broken.
• Karanji (करंजी): half-moon pastries filled with coconut, sugar and dry fruit, with a carefully crimped edge that tests everyone’s patience.
• Ladoo (लाडू): besan, rava or motichoor, rolled by hand. Every family believes its own ladoo recipe is the correct one.
• Chivda (चिवडा): a savoury mix of poha, peanuts, curry leaves and spices, made in quantities that suggest a siege.
• Shankarpali (शंकरपाळी): small diamond-shaped bites, sweet or salty, that disappear faster than they can be counted.
• Anarsa (अनारसे): a rice-and-jaggery delicacy with poppy seeds, famously difficult to get right. In many homes, only one person is trusted to make them.

Why make faral at home? Because it is a team sport. One person kneads, another rolls, a third fries, and the children are in charge of quality control. Recipes travel down the family line, often without written measurements. “Add flour until it looks right” is not a recipe, but it is how many of our best ones survive.

Why share it? Faral is meant to be exchanged. Plates of it go to neighbours, relatives and friends, and come back filled with someone else’s version. It is hospitality, diplomacy and a gentle competition all at once.

And then there is the great unspoken challenge of Diwali: keeping the dabbas full until guests arrive. Every family has a member who “just checks” whether the chivda is still fresh, several times a day. By Bhau Beej, the karanji tin often contains mostly crumbs and hope.

Aaplya Parampara, Aapli Olakh: Write down a family faral recipe this year, with real measurements, before the person who makes it decides they “don’t remember exactly”.

Diwali Traditions Across India: One Festival, Many Meanings

Travel across India during Diwali and you will see the same lamps lit for quite different reasons. These observances share a season, not a single story.

• Kali Puja in Bengal. On the same Amavasya night that much of India worships Lakshmi, Bengal worships Goddess Kali. In the story told by CSMVS, Kali is the fierce form of Durga who destroyed the demon Raktabeej, whose every drop of spilled blood produced another demon. The night is devoted to the goddess who protects by destroying evil.
• Govardhan Puja. In north India and in communities devoted to Krishna, the day after the main Diwali night recalls Krishna lifting Govardhan hill to shelter the people of Vraja and their cattle from Indra’s storms. Devotees offer Annakut, a “mountain of food”, to Krishna.
• Bali Pratipada in the west and south. In Maharashtra and Karnataka, the same day honours King Bali, as we saw above. Gujarati families celebrate it as their New Year.
• Jain Diwali. Jains mark the nirvana of Lord Mahavira at Pavapuri. The observance is quieter and more reflective, often with fasting, prayer and reading of Mahavira’s teachings. Pavapuri holds an annual Nirvana Mahotsav on this night, and the Jain new year begins the next day.
• Bandi Chhor Divas. Sikhs commemorate Guru Hargobind’s release from Gwalior Fort along with 52 princes. Gurdwaras hold kirtan and prayers, and the Harmandir Sahib in Amritsar is lit up.
• Ayodhya and Varanasi. Ayodhya lights its riverbanks with lakhs of diyas for Rama’s return, and Varanasi celebrates Dev Deepavali about fifteen days after Diwali.

The point is not that one version is correct. It is that India, and the many communities within it, found its own reasons to light up the same dark night.

How to Teach Children the Meaning of Diwali

Children do not need a lecture on culture. They need a reason to be curious. A few small habits go a long way.

1. One ritual, one story. Instead of explaining all five days at once, pick one ritual each day. On Naraka Chaturdashi, tell the Narakasura story while they crush the karit. On Bhau Beej, tell them about Yama and Yamuna. A story attached to an action sticks.
2. Hand the microphone to grandparents. Ask aaji or ajoba to describe their childhood Diwali: what they ate, what they wore, what they were scolded for. Children love hearing that their grandparents were once naughty too.
3. Teach the Marathi words. Faral, utane, aukshan, akash kandil, killa. Knowing the name of a thing is the first step to caring about it.
4. Let them make something. A rangoli at the door, a paper akash kandil, or a mud killa in the compound. It will not be perfect. That is fine. They will remember making it far longer than they remember any explanation.
5. Record the family’s voice. Film a grandparent making chakli, or record them telling a story. Ten minutes on a phone today can become a treasured family archive.
6. Read together. Pick up age-appropriate versions of the Ramayana, Krishna stories or Panchatantra-style picture books, and read a chapter at bedtime during the festival.

If your children only remember one thing from this year, let it be this: Diwali is something their family does together, and there is a reason behind every part of it.

A Meaningful Diwali: Traditions We Can Preserve Today

Not everyone has a courtyard for a killa, a cow for Vasu Baras, or an aaji next door to supervise the anarsa. Many of us live in flats, work long hours, or celebrate far from the towns our families came from. That is all right. Keeping a tradition alive does not mean reproducing every detail. It means keeping the meaning.

Some achievable ideas:

• Keep one morning sacred. Even if everything else is rushed, wake early on Naraka Chaturdashi for the abhyang snan. It sets the tone for the whole festival.
• Make one faral item at home. Buy the rest if you must, but make one together. The making is the tradition.
• Light real diyas at the door. Fairy lights are lovely, but a few clay diyas at the entrance connect you to every generation that lit them before.
• Make the call. If you are away from family, do the Bhau Beej or Padwa aarti over video. Distance changes the format, not the feeling.
• Choose a greener celebration. Fewer crackers, natural rangoli colours, a reusable akash kandil. Caring for the world around us fits the spirit of the festival.
• Pass on one story each year. Next year, another. Over a childhood, that adds up to a whole tradition.

Aaplya Parampara, Aapli Olakh: Ask an older family member how Diwali has changed since they were young, and what they miss most. Then try to bring back one of those things.

Years from now, our children may not remember which year the lantern was crooked or which batch of chakli came out too hard. What we hope they remember is the feeling: a home full of light, people who came back to it, and a quiet sense that these customs belong to them. If they carry that forward and light a lamp for their own children one day, then Diwali has done exactly what it was always meant to do.

References

1. Ministry of Tourism, Government of India. Diwali: A festival of lights and joy. Incredible India. Supports: symbolism of light, Rama’s return, the five days, Lakshmi and Ganesha, Jain and Sikh significance, Ayodhya, Varanasi’s Dev Deepavali, Bali in western India, and the 8 November 2026 date.
2. Department of Tourism, Government of Maharashtra. Diwali. Supports: Diwali as a five-day festival symbolising light over darkness and knowledge over ignorance, and its social and cultural importance in Maharashtra.
3. Encyclopaedia Britannica Editors. Diwali. Encyclopaedia Britannica. Supports: the meaning of dipavali as “row of lights”, the five-day span across the months of Ashvin and Kartik, and lamps lit on the new moon night.
4. Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya (CSMVS). The Festive Days of Diwali. Google Arts & Culture. Supports: Vasu Baras in Maharashtra, Dhanvantari and Kubera on Dhanteras, the karit custom on Naraka Chaturdashi, Kali Puja in Bengal, Bali Pratipada, Govardhan Puja and Annakut, Yama and Yamuna on Bhau Beej, and the killa tradition.
5. SikhNet. Bandi Chhorr Divas. Supports: Guru Hargobind’s release from Gwalior Fort with 52 princes and the illumination of Harmandir Sahib.
6. Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales. Bandi Chhor Divas. Supports: the meaning “Prisoner Liberation Day” and the 1619 date.
7. Wikipedia. Pawapuri. Supports: Pavapuri as the site of Mahavira’s nirvana and the annual Nirvana Mahotsav on Diwali night. (Secondary source; replace with a Jain institutional page if you prefer.)
8. Wikipedia. Govatsa Dwadashi. Supports: Vasu Baras as the start of Diwali in Maharashtra and cow-and-calf worship. (Secondary source.)
9. Wikipedia. Balipratipada. Supports: the meaning of pratipada/padva, Bali Padwa in Maharashtra, and rangoli images of Bali.

Gayatri Sawant

मराठी

नमस्कार, मी गायत्री.

मुंबईत वाढले. आजीच्या गोष्टी ऐकत, आईने शिकवलेल्या म्हणी बोलत, घरच्या सणांच्या गडबडीत. तेव्हा कधी वाटलंच नाही की हे सगळं खास आहे.

माझी मुलगी झाली, आणि एक दिवस मनात आलं: हे सगळं तिच्यापर्यंत कसं पोहोचणार?

त्याच प्रश्नातून आपला मराठी माणूस सुरू झालं. मराठी संस्कृती फक्त आपल्यापुरती राहू नये, ती सर्वांची व्हावी. म्हणून मी मराठीत, रोमन लिपीत आणि इंग्रजीत लिहिते, जेणेकरून कोणीही मागे राहू नये.

इथे जे लिहिते, ते मी जगलेलं, ऐकलेलं आणि मोठ्यांकडून शिकलेलं आहे.

Romanized

Namaskar, mi Gayatri.

Mumbait vaadhle. Aajichya goshti aikat, aaine shikavlelya mhani bolat, gharchya sananchya gadbadit. Tevha kadhi vatlach nahi ki he sagla khaas aahe.

Majhi mulgi zali, ani ek divas manaat aala: he sagla tichyaparyant kasa pohochnar?

Tyach prashnatun Aapla Marathi Manoos suru zala. Marathi sanskruti fakta aaplyapurti rahu naye, ti sarvanchi vhavi. Mhanun mi Marathit, Roman lipit ani Engrajit lihite, jenekarun konihi maage rahu naye.

Ithe je lihite, te mi jagalela, aikalela ani mothyankadun shiklela aahe.

English

Namaskar, I’m Gayatri.

I grew up in Mumbai listening to my grandmother’s stories, repeating the proverbs my mother taught me, and getting lost in the bustle of festivals at home. Back then, I never realised how special it all was.

Then my daughter was born, and one day a thought stayed with me: how will all of this reach her?

Aapla Marathi Manoos began with that question. I don’t want Marathi culture to stay only with us; I want it to belong to everyone. So I write in Marathi, in Romanized Marathi, and in English, so that no one is left out.

Everything here is something I’ve lived, heard, or learned from my elders.