Diwali is more than a festival. It is centuries of stories whispered through the verses of the Ramayana, the eternal glow of lamps that flicker across our island, and the soft warmth that fills our hearts when light triumphs over darkness. In Sri Lanka, it has grown beyond legend into a shared celebration of hope, reunion, and joy.
Homes are swept clean, thresholds bloom with intricate kolams, and the air is fragrant with jasmine, ghee, and the promise of sweetness to come. Lamps are lit not only to decorate but to declare that light, wisdom, and goodness are eternal.
This year, that spirit came alive in Colombo with unparalleled grandeur. The Colombo Indians, affectionately known as COLIND’S, hosted their grand annual Diwali Ball at the opulent Taj Samudra, a palace of light for one glittering night I would gladly trademark. The Grand Marquee shimmered in a thousand hues, as though the stars themselves had descended to dance. The Taj, long known for infusing each event with character and soul, outdid itself once more.
From the moment one entered, it was clear that this was no ordinary gathering. It was a night of belonging, a celebration where Sri Lanka’s Indian community opened its arms to friends of every nationality. Beneath the luminous décor were diplomats, artists, ministers, social icons, and visitors from around the globe: Indian High Commissioner Santosh Jha, Sri Lanka’s Minister of Tourism Hon. Vijitha Herath, Taj Area Director Samrat Datta, former President Ranil Wickremesinghe, Professor Maithree Wickramasinghe, and U.S. Ambassador Julie J. Chung. Even beloved cricketers added sparkle to the already dazzling scene.
Vinay Kapri, the famed mentalist, took the stage and bewitched the audience with his art, a spell of curiosity that warmed the crowd. Watching him, I was carried back to childhood Diwalis I had spent with friends, dusky evenings filled with cousins, sparklers, and that one mischievous soul always bent on magic. It felt, in that moment, like home, like a cousin’s Diwali housewarming.
Then came the rhythm. The Prashadi Dance Academy stormed the stage with colour and grace, their movements setting the floor aflame. The feast followed, for no celebration is complete without it. The scent of dosas, spiced chaats, biryani, pav bhaji, and syrup-drenched mithai filled the air. We lost count of our visits to the paani puri stall, the servers smiling knowingly as though keeping our secret.
A mehendi corner drew soft clusters of delighted guests. Henna blossomed across palms like delicate vines in moonlight. My colleague Yashmitha and I promised to get ours done after “just one more dance,” yet deep down we knew we would leave with smudged hands and hearts full of cheer.
As the clock edged towards midnight, Umara Sinhawansa took the stage. Her voice floated through the hall like silk, wrapping every guest in melody. The dance floor came alive with laughter, music, and movement. Between bites of biryani and bursts of laughter, we surrendered to the music until time itself became irrelevant. The DJ was as alive as the crowd, orchestrating every heartbeat, every desi move, every joyous spin and sway.
That night reminded me that festivals do not live in stories alone. They live in laughter shared with strangers, in friends twirling you mid-song, in the quiet warmth of knowing you belong, and in the joy of culture celebrated together. COLIND’S had done it again, gifting us a night to carry home, to share with family, and to relive in memory.
The Colind Diwali Ball has truly become one of the most cosmopolitan nights in the country, a festival where every nationality finds a place among the lamps, the music, and the joy. As I unwrapped the jalebi I had secretly saved for the ride home, I realized Diwali is not merely a festival of lamps. It is the spreading of light, the multiplication of joy, and humanity at its brightest and most forgiving.
Happy Diwali to all our soulful readers!
