When Diwali Feels Different: Observations of a Quiet Celebration

The streets are alive with lights, laughter, and the hum of celebration. Shops display colorful decorations, families rush to buy sweets, and firecrackers echo in the distance. I walk past it all, noticing everything, but feeling strangely apart from it.

I see neighbors exchanging gifts, friends laughing over dinner, and children running around with sparklers. I want to join in, to feel that excitement — but my own reality reminds me to step back. My finances aren’t great this year, and the thought of gifts, parties, or new clothes brings more anxiety than joy.

For a long time, I thought avoiding people would protect me from judgment. But solitude brings its own weight. Watching everyone else celebrate reminds me of what I can’t participate in, and that sting is hard to ignore. Advice like “don’t take it personally” feels hollow. Of course I feel excluded — that’s human.

I realize that coping doesn’t mean pretending I’m fine. It means noticing my feelings and being gentle with myself. So, I stop for a moment, take a deep breath, and allow myself to feel it all: the longing, the worry, the quiet envy, and the small relief that comes from accepting my own pace.

This year, my Diwali will be different. I light a small diya at home, feeling its warm glow against the shadows. I write down things I’m grateful for, and I remind myself that my worth isn’t measured by gifts, celebrations, or appearances. The festival continues around me, but I find my own way to celebrate — inwardly, quietly, and authentically.

Sometimes, coping isn’t about joining the crowd. It’s about observing, accepting, and creating light where you can. Even if it’s just one small flame.