This year, Ganapati puja was full of joy, laughter, and… if I’m being honest, exhaustion.
Between the decorations, food, music, prayers, darshans, and the logistics, I found myself wondering if I truly experienced the festival, or just managed it?
Festivals in India are like that. Vibrant, boisterous, welcoming, and inclusive. You don’t have to belong to a particular community to celebrate with others.
Navratri, Eid, Christmas, Onam – I’ve been part of each of these, sharing each other’s joy at some point. That’s the beauty of this country.
But somewhere, along with inclusivity, there’s also been an undeniable push toward commercialisation.
Festivals once connected us to the divine; now they connect us to discounts.
The shops, the malls, the endless “festival sales” make festivals feel like deadlines, rather than occasions for bonding.
And so, I keep asking myself: in trying to keep up with modernity and inclusivity, are we slowly losing touch with the cultural essence of our festivals?
The Changing Face of Festivals
Every region in India has its unique traditions. Pongal in Tamil Nadu, Baisakhi in Punjab, Durga Puja in Bengal, Onam in Kerela. Each festival carries its own flavours, stories, and rituals.
This inclusivity is truly beautiful. You don’t need to be Bengali to enjoy the magic of a Durga Puja pandal, or Malayali to participate in Onam’s pookalam and sadhya.
An exquisite space gets created where everyone is welcomed with an open heart, where belonging is not a prerequisite for celebration.
With people moving across cities, states, and even countries, there’s been a blending, a welcome aberration. Festivals have become more pan-Indian, more open, more accepting.
Yet, there’s another side to this reality. Festivals are increasingly reduced to display.
There’s a flood of Instagram reels of perfectly colour coordinated decorations with expensive blooms, trending designer clothes, glossy food spreads. All meant to be shared online.
The meaning, the myth, the story often take a backseat. Festivals, once lived and felt, are facing the risk of becoming staged performances.
I mean, are we decorating for god or for Instagram?
Seriously, the focus on following customs and traditions has become so dramatic and showy that it reminds me of my grandmother’s special saris which she would take out only during special pujas – all exclusive, kept safely away, and disconnected from the regular days.
What We’re Losing in the Process
Celebrating festivals in my childhood were different. It wasn’t about the outfits (if it fitted, it was worn again, or else passed on to the younger sibling or cousin) or the decorations (everything was made at home – sustainable celebrations even before the term gained prominence).
It’s the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, with everyone lending a hand. It’s listening to elders narrating stories of gods, goddesses, and the values behind each ritual. It’s laughing and fighting over the last sweet.
These were the memories connected with celebrating festivals. Many of those simple experiences are fading.
Where the days ahead of the festivals were spent preparing for making the dishes, Swiggy delivers them in 20 minutes.
Instead of elders sitting down to narrate the stories, they’re now outsourced to YouTube. How do you build connections with these?
The bonding, warmth, wholesomeness, the passing of culture through such small shared moments is quietly slipping away.
It’s an old tradition where every Ganapati puja, we made a special sweet at home specifically for the puja. And we made it together, the kids and me, as I would tell them stories from the mythology.
The end results were not picture perfect but created the most heartwarming and endearing experiences. now away from home, that’s what my kids remember and associate with.
When I asked my students to narrate one tale about Lord Ganpati, most were clueless. But they did buy one new dress for each occasion. (Something just tugged inside my heart.)
This brings me to a question that keeps bothering me – what kind of cultural inheritance are we leaving behind for our children?
If festivals become only about clothes and pictures, what and how do they learn about their roots, their values, their identity?
It should not be too late before they realise its significance and there’s no one to tell them then.
Practical Ways to Keep Culture Alive for Children
I’m not against progress or modernisation; they aren’t the enemy. Nor is inclusivity.
But balance is necessary. Children can, and must, live in a global, modern world but still stay rooted in tradition. It will depend on us, if we agree to make the effort.
Maybe we can try these small, practical ways:
- Experience It
Encourage children to make friends with children from different cultures, learn about them, and participate in different cultural practices. Like volunteer for varies festivities being celebrated. It broadens their perspective and helps them appreciate the vibrancy of diversity.
- Celebrate It
Celebrating is the keyword. When they celebrate, they go beyond the outfits and displays. Share the story behind the festival, the reason behind a ritual, or the meaning of a tradition. Even a simple discussion can plant seeds of curiosity.
- Speak It
A language is more than words; it’s a bridge to understanding cultures and people. Encouraging children to learn languages, whether it’s their mother tongue or a friend’s, helps them build connections and improves appreciation of the new traditions.
- Share it
Myths, folk tales, epics. These are the pillars of every culture anywhere in the world. It’s how values and identities are passed down. Try reading aloud, narrating, or even enacting them (that’s a good idea – we got the kids in the complex to enact the Ramayana last Dussehra and they loved it). Storytelling remains a powerful medium in every generation.
- Taste It
Food. That’s culture on a plate. Cook together as a family – whether it’s making modaks for Ganapati or pongal for Sankranti or laddoos for Diwali. It creates bonds and appreciation for tradition as well as variety. Also as the dishes change from region to region, they increase the understanding about the region and its people.
The Legacy We Choose
Festivals are what bind us together. And with time they too will evolve. Becoming inclusive and modern are the inevitable positives, no doubt.
But somewhere in the glitter, you must not lose the soul of the celebrations. Hold on to them as they lead you forward.
Culture is not meant for display; it is meant to be lived.
Back to the beginning. The real question remains – what stories will children inherit?
Children are watching you, learning from you. They’ll inherit the traditions and also your attitude toward them. The legacy you choose is the story they will inherit.
Will they see festivals as noisy, tiring obligations, or as vibrant, meaningful stories that connect them to who they are; as occasions for splurging and consumerism or for bonding and building connections?
Festivals are not just dates marked on a calendar. They are living stories of families, of communities, of values.
The real question is what stories do you want your children to inherit?
