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The question of whether the joy of celebrating festivals has been replaced by the rush to document them for public attention is something that has crossed our minds. As we celebrate another festive season, we reflect.
It’s that time of the year again, when the air starts to feel festive and you can almost hear the dhol beats of Navratri and the cheer of Dussehra, and I don’t know about you, but it has always been my favourite season. As a kid, I would count down the days to the fairs with my family, the excitement of walking through pandals, the joy of kanjak meals, and those long cousin catch-ups that, for some reason, only happened on festive occasions. It's these little things that I knew I’d get to do together, with the people I love, that always got me excited. Eventually, like every good thing, the celebrations would come to an end, posing as a tender reminder that such joy is fleeting and therefore, all the more precious.
Also Read: Creators reflect on their favorite bachpan ki yaadein during Navratri and Dussehra celebrations!
But somewhere along the line, something changed. I’m pretty sure it’s not just adulting and the dullness that comes with it catching up to me. The last few years have been a slow realisation that the thrill and the sadness associated with festivals, the entire experience, feel different now. Maybe a little spark still flickers here and there, but not in the same way that once made me want to jump with joy. You don’t even notice it fading until one day, you realise you’re not dressing up for the festival because you feel like celebrating, but because you want to capture it for your online friends. This makes me wonder, when did festivals become as much about the content as the experience of living them?
It was when my friend recently brought up how the whole idea of festivals is interestingly set up that ties faith with leisure. Faith creates a sense of obligation, while leisure ensures people pause at least once a year. People are encouraged to take holidays, put on new clothes, meet family and friends you don’t often get to see, dance a little, eat a lot, and feel like you belong to a community again. However, today, the focus has shifted to showcasing these experiences on social media. It makes you wonder if the documenting has started taking up more space than the celebration itself. Would the joy still feel the same if we couldn’t post it? Somewhere along the way, the line between sharing and staging blurred. It’s like we sometimes forget how to just be there, dancing our hearts out at a garba party, exhausted and happy, without needing to think about how it looks.
Festivals today often feel curated, not in a negative sense, but in a way that reflects how deeply visuals and aesthetics have become part of our culture. People spend time setting up beautiful backdrops, decorating homes, and planning outfits, not just for the warmth it brings but also for how it translates online. This is not necessarily wrong, maybe it’s simply how celebrations have evolved. However, it does raise the question of whether the heart of the festival still shines through in the same way it used to.
Social media isn’t the villain here but a space that allows us to share joy, connect with others, and carry traditions into a new space. When the sharing becomes more important than the experiencing, that’s when the disconnect can creep in. It’s also impossible to ignore how brands amplify this shift. Festivals have become major marketing opportunities, complete with glossy campaigns, celebrities in perfect outfits, and visuals that set almost impossible standards for the rest of us. And because we’re all watching, it subtly influences how we think festivals should look.
The tricky part is that even when we try to capture our own moments, there’s often that quiet pressure to measure up. This also comes from the thought that maybe a well-celebrated festival only feels complete when it looks good enough to be posted. That doesn’t take away from the celebration itself, but it does change the way we experience it.
The truth is, there’s no simple fix. Maybe the point isn’t to abandon documenting it altogether, but also to remember to live the moment too. To remind ourselves that the glow of a festival isn’t only in how it looks, but in how it feels when you’re in the middle of it. Prehaps the thrill has softened into a different form, more reflective, and maybe that’s what growing up does to celebrations. But I would like to believe that, maybe we just need a reminder that the most exciting part of festivals is the sense of belonging they bring, and the human connection we’ve been deprived of in recent times.
What do you miss the most about Navratri and Dussehra celebrations? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
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