Dipavali Festival of Lights

The Diwali Festival of Lights (Dipavali in French), is a large Indian holiday signifying the new year. Over 23% of the population on Reunion Island is of South Asian descent, within this figure resides a sizable Tamil population. During the first two weeks of November, celebrations were hosted around the island. St. Andre, a lovely town on the east coast, is home to the largest Tamil Indian community on the island. From the moment I arrived in September, everyone began telling me to head east for an incredible Dipavali display on November 13th.

My Dipavali experience was something akin to the Griswold Family Christmas, I starring as Clark Griswold. I began amassing brochures and Indian trinkets weeks in advance, mentally preparing myself for the glitz and glimmer of the Festival of Lights. One paper said that vehicular access to the parade site would close at noon on the day of the "Grande Spectacle;" I began rallying the significantly less enthused troops for an 11:30AM arrival.

Disgruntled and tired people were pulled from their beds early Saturday morning to my excitable beating drum. Eastward bound to St. Andre! Didn't want to miss a thing! Upon arrival came the brilliant yet eerily quiet flash of understanding that the newspaper had lied to me. After all, nothing on Reunion Island happens according to schedule. Not a soul, not one living soul, had beaten us to Dipavali. Some eyes were rolled in my direction--but on the plus side, I reminded everyone, we got the best parking spot in the whole place!

Not long after, little stands began opening and we had the whole place to ourselves which--everyone had to admit--was wonderful. We made friends with all the vendors, ate lamb kababs, amassed lots of spices, I even considered buying a sari, but abandoned the plan when the salesman became too actively involved in measuring (or feeling?) my waist and bust size. Onwards and upwards! We tried all of the sweets, touched the beautiful silks and flower garlands, and later, hot and sleepy, sought refuge under a tent with a sweet young girl who gave us beautiful henna tattoos.
After 7 hours in the market place, we had fully immersed ourselves in Indian festivities and culture. The sun was setting as more friends began arriving and beautiful lights strung around the site began lighting up. Someone had placed little oil pots along the long length of the parade route and they began burning at dusk. Drums beating, music playing, men and women in the most breathtaking costumes and floats began marching past. For over two hours we stood in awe over this happy, colorful, display. I felt that I was actually in India, surrounded by people shouting, crying out, singing, dancing in the streets. Every once and a while a float would pass and someone would throw brilliant orange flower petals into the crowd. A beautiful sight to behold.

As the last float passed by, people began streaming to the far side of a vast field where a big fireworks display was underway. After only a minute, fire ants began attacking my feet and I too began dancing! The display slowly died down and the thousands of spectators began the long trek back to their cars; our little family had only to walk a smug five feet to my car, driving off elated into the dark night, Joyeux Dipavali!!!