Beyond the Lights

One girl’s story from the days of ancient Ayodhya

The air was thick with anticipation in Ayodhya as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden hues across the sky. The streets were alive with the sound of laughter and the scent of freshly made sweets. Diyas flickered like stars being born, ready to illuminate the night for the grand return of Bhagwan Ram.

Yet, in the midst of this celebration, a young girl named Divya stood silently in her family’s courtyard, her heart a mix of excitement and confusion.

All her life, Divya had heard the tales of Shri Ram, the noble prince, the epitome of dharma. But how could such a person be real? How could a prince willingly renounce his kingdom on the eve of his coronation? What kind of man would accept exile over power? Her mind raced with questions, and the stories felt like distant echoes, hard to believe, swirling in her thoughts like the evening breeze.

As her mother called her to help light the diyas, Divya picked up the small clay lamps, their surfaces still warm from the fire. With each diya she lit, she tried to push away her doubts, but the flickering flames only mirrored the uncertainty within her. What if Bhagwan Ram was just a legend, a figment of imagination spun by storytellers?

Her family gathered around her, joyfully preparing for the evening’s festivities. The diyas’ light danced in her eyes, and a part of her longed to believe — believe that legends existed, that there was more to life than the mundane struggles of daily existence.

As the night deepened, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. The people of Ayodhya filled the streets, their faces illuminated by the golden light of the diyas. They awaited the moment when Bhagwan Ram would return from his fourteen years in exile. Divya’s heart raced as she helped her family place the last diya at the edge of their home, whispering a silent prayer that she could somehow see him.

Suddenly, a cry went up from the city gates. Divya’s heart leapt into her throat. She scrambled to a vantage point, craning her neck to catch a glimpse.

And then, she saw them.

Shri Ram walked at the forefront, his bearing regal yet humble. She saw compassion in his eyes that could move mountains. Sitaji, grace personified, her eyes shining with quiet strength. Lakshmanji, ever-vigilant, his devotion palpable even at a distance showing the power of loyalty. They were travel-worn, dressed simply, and yet…

As the royal family passed, her gaze locked with Shri Ram’s for the briefest moment. A smile, gentle and knowing, curved his lips. In that heartbeat, she knew.

This was what it meant to have faith. This was what it meant to believe in something greater than oneself.

In that brief moment, she understood something: That the ultimate Divine Being is not distant and imaginary, but real. This Being comes as an avatar in every age to restore dharma to the world. Just like us.

As the city erupted in joyous celebration around her, Divya felt a quiet certainty settle in her heart. The world held wonders beyond imagination, and the Divine walked among them.

She turned back to her task with renewed purpose, each diya she lit now a beacon of newfound faith.

As the night unfolded and the diyas lit up the city, she felt a profound connection not just to Shri Ram and the greater truth he signified. She could believe! The darkness that had clouded her heart lifted, replaced by the warm glow of faith. In that fleeting moment, Divya found her light, ignited by the presence of the Divine.

Thus began the festival of Diwali, which would go on to inspire millions forever…

With time, the diyas were joined by fireworks, and the festival was celebrated in lands far away from Ayodhya. However, each year, the festival reminds us that true illumination comes only when seek the light over darkness, when we seek Shri Ram and the Divine. When we celebrate Diwali with the Divine in our mind, then our celebration becomes real and true fulfillment overflows.

Follow for Part 2, “The Spark Within,” to be published later this week.