I tread carefully on the path home, squishing rainfall-soaked leaves underfoot. The sun set a while ago and darkness now cloaked either side of the lane. Like many winter nights in Wageningen, there wasn’t a lot of activity outdoors but the occasional glow of warm, yellow light from the houses I passed held the promise of social activity. People cosy in their living rooms debating the menu for dinner or snuggling down to a movie. I dig my hands further into my pockets and slow down, looking at the impressions that the lights make in the pitch-dark night.
Some lights are the soft glow of lamplight and others, the glittery twinkle of fairy lights. It seems to me that it’s only in the winter that the essential warmth of lamplight stands out. We have all these rituals centred around light, to keep the gloominess at bay.
In mid-November we celebrated the Hindu festival of lights, Diwali. When each house lights little clay oil lamps. Essentially, we’re celebrating the victory of good over evil, light over darkness. Not long after Diwali, I was told of the festival of St. Martin (Sint Maarten in Dutch and Sankt Martin in German). When groups of children go around the neighbourhood singing and swinging little handmade lanterns. Pint-sized messengers of light uplifting the spirit of the community.
Light is the language that we all seem to understand
At dinner my housemate lights candles for the table, a tradition she unknowingly took over from a previous housemate. Back home, my neighbour religiously lights a small oil lamp in an alcove dedicated to worship in her home. And the last time I left my sister’s house in the UK, she lit a similar lamp to safeguard my journey. Last winter, a housemate had to work the night shift and we left fairy lights on in the living room so he wouldn’t return to a dark, silent house.
Everyone I’ve mentioned here belongs to different nationalities, grew up in vastly different ways or parts of the world. With diverse beliefs and varied futures. Yet, light is the language that we all seem to understand. To connect with. In this international bubble that is Wageningen, where we often excitedly explore the differences in each other’s cultures, it was a pleasant to discover another example that reinforced what we already know, that underneath it all, we’re all essentially the same. Drawn to light and joy.
Ananya Doraswamy is a Master’s student in Communication, Health and Life Sciences from India. She delights in a slow-paced day that has plenty of time for cloud-watching and tree-gazing. She enjoys being in busy, multicultural kitchens that have plenty of food and stories to offer.
