Honouring Ancestors: Halloween in America vs Shraddha in India

Part Seven

The ‘ghosts’ blindly emulating Western traditions are far more unsettling than the spectral figures of Halloween.

The world celebrates Halloween on the 31st of October, but I have always pondered: how can it truly be regarded as a festival? In my culture, we have a deeply rooted and rich tradition of honouring our ancestors through various meaningful rituals. For instance, we celebrate Ganpati with immense enthusiasm and vibrant fanfare, and we also observe Pitru Paksha, a sacred fortnight specifically dedicated to paying homage to our forebears. As part of this, we perform Shraddha, a solemn and significant ritual to honour our departed ancestors with the utmost sincerity and reverence. Furthermore, we continue to remember our loved ones through annual, monthly, and tarpan rituals, which hold profound significance in keeping their memories alive.

In contrast, I have observed that in America, England, and Europe, Halloween serves as a time to remember ancestors, albeit in a markedly different and distinct manner. Since relocating to America, I have noticed that malls and shops start preparing for Halloween as early as the very first week of October. People celebrate the occasion with tremendous enthusiasm and excitement throughout the month, decorating their homes and surroundings with eerie, ghostly decorations and hosting elaborate costume parties to mark the festivities.

The way Americans and people around the world commemorate their ancestors during Halloween is undeniably impressive. Everyone, from young children to senior citizens, interacts with the concept of ghosts in various creative and engaging ways. Unlike in India, where there is often an inherent fear of ghosts, and they are typically associated with rural areas, in America, ghosts are everywhere. They are not only part of folklore but also feature prominently in urban settings—appearing in hotels, malls, shops, and even on people’s clothing, such as shirts.

These communities remember their ancestors with remarkable enthusiasm, spending lavishly on lighting, decorations, and festivities, in a manner somewhat akin to how we celebrate Ganpati and Diwali in India. I estimate that Halloween generates an astonishing revenue of around $50 billion to $100 billion annually. Although the festival has been heavily commercialised, I must acknowledge that their marketing strategies are nothing short of remarkable.

In America, there is no fuss surrounding Shraddha rituals, crows, or Pind Daan. Instead, they celebrate Halloween with lively parties, drinks, and revelry, which, in their own unique way, might even help them forge a connection with their ancestors. Unlike the Shraddha rituals in India, there is no overcrowding at sacred sites or pollution of rivers caused by ritualistic practices. I find the concept of Halloween both fascinating and thought-provoking, and I am particularly intrigued by America’s remarkable ability to globalise and market almost any idea with great success.

Halloween has gained significant popularity in India, especially among the younger generation. However, while many Indians embrace Halloween without truly understanding its cultural significance, it is vital to remember that the Western way of life is not inherently superior. Even more concerning is the increasing trend of commercialising festivals and the uncritical adoption of Western traditions, which risks eroding the uniqueness of our cultural heritage.

I must confess that I find the metaphorical “ghosts”—those who unthinkingly emulate Western traditions—far more unsettling than the spectral ones celebrated during Halloween.

Countries like America and those in Europe consistently show appreciation for the contributions, whether small or significant, made by their ancestors. They honour and cherish their predecessors, take immense pride in them, and even, at times, justify the wrongdoings and atrocities committed in the past. In essence, they never disown their ancestors; instead, they remain eternally indebted to them. This mindset extends to their sense of national pride. They are invariably proud of their country and steadfastly loyal, never turning their backs on it.

Whether or not our people choose to celebrate Sarvapitri Amavasya, my concern lies elsewhere. If festivals like Halloween contribute to a diminishing sense of pride and respect for our cultural heritage or foster an attitude of disowning our identity and nation, then, perhaps, I too would prefer to take on the guise of a ghost.

(The author is a director of a company. He has travelled extensively across India and overseas.)