Diwali and Mental Health: When the Festival of Togetherness Feels Anything But
By Dr. Prerna Kohli | Clinical Psychologist, Gurugram | Updated June 2026
Diwali is one of the most beloved and widely celebrated festivals in India and across the Indian diaspora. Its emphasis on light over darkness, togetherness over isolation, and the triumph of good over difficulty reflects values that are genuinely important— including to mental health. The research on community, celebration, and shared ritual as protective factors for psychological wellbeing is consistent and strong.
But festivals that centre togetherness have a shadow side that is rarely discussed: for those who are separated from family, grieving a loss, struggling financially, going through relationship difficulty, or simply carrying a level of loneliness that the rest of the year manages to conceal— the brightness of the festival can intensify the darkness rather than dispel it.
Diwali is built around togetherness— and that is precisely why it can be so painful for people who are away from family, who have recently lost someone, or who do not have a community around them to celebrate with. The intensity of the festival's emphasis on connection creates a contrast effect: the more loudly togetherness is celebrated around you, the more sharply any absence of it is felt. This is not unusual, and it is not a sign of something wrong with you. It is a normal human response to a profound contrast between what the festival promises and what the reality is.Dr. Prerna Kohli, PhD— Clinical Psychologist, in practice since 1993
Who Finds Diwali Difficult— and Why
Indians living abroad, professionals in cities far from home, students in new cities— Diwali's insistence on family celebration makes distance feel particularly sharp. The video calls that substitute for in-person celebration often intensify rather than resolve the longing.
The first Diwali after a bereavement is one of the hardest experiences grief produces. The empty chair, the absent voice, the traditions that now feel both precious and painful— grief during a festival that celebrates light and joy can feel profoundly isolating.
Diwali carries significant financial expectations— gifts, new clothes, sweets, crackers, home decoration. For those already under financial stress, the season adds a layer of anxiety and shame that the festival's commercial dimension actively compounds.
Diwali is a couples and family festival. Going through a separation, a difficult marriage, or estrangement from family members when the cultural script insists on togetherness produces a particular kind of pain— the sense of failing at something that everyone else seems to be doing effortlessly.
The mandatory performance of joy that festivals require is one of the most difficult aspects of depression or anxiety during this season. Having to appear festive while internally struggling— and having no culturally acceptable language for how you actually feel— compounds the isolation significantly.
Social media during Diwali is an unrelenting stream of curated celebration— perfect homes, perfect families, perfect happiness. For anyone whose Diwali looks different from this, the comparison is a reliable source of distress that the season intensifies year after year.
"She called me the day after Diwali. Her mother had passed away eight months earlier— the first Diwali without her. 'Everyone kept saying it would be good for me to celebrate, to be with people, to not sit at home,' she told me. 'So I went to my sister's. And I sat there with the diyas and the sweets and the noise, and I just felt— completely invisible. Like I was watching everyone else's Diwali from outside a window.'"
"What she was describing is something I hear consistently: the experience of grief becoming more acute, not less, during festivals. The celebration that was meant to lift her had the opposite effect— because it required her to perform a joy she did not feel, in a context that made the absence of her mother sharper rather than softer. The empty chair at the table. The mithai her mother used to make. The phone she would have called on."
"We spent several sessions in the weeks before the following Diwali preparing for it deliberately— not to avoid the grief, but to create space for it alongside the celebration. She decided to light a separate diya for her mother. She told her sister how she was feeling rather than performing well. She gave herself explicit permission to cry if she needed to, and to leave early if the gathering became too much. The following year she told me: 'It was still hard. But I was in it, rather than outside it. That was different.'"
What Actually Helps— For Each Situation
Create your own ritual rather than trying to replicate what you would have at home— which will always fall short. Find one person to celebrate with. Light a diya, make one dish that matters. Acknowledge that distance is genuinely hard, rather than suppressing that recognition in order to "get through" the day.
Give yourself explicit permission to grieve during the festival. Find a way to honour the person who is absent— a candle lit for them, a moment of quiet remembrance alongside the celebration. Tell someone close to you how you are actually feeling. The first Diwali without someone is almost always the hardest; subsequent years typically soften.
Identify the elements of Diwali that matter to you— light, family, ritual— and separate them from the ones that are commercially driven. A home-made mithai, a simple diya, the company of one trusted person: these contain the actual meaning of the festival. The pressure to spend is external; the meaning is internal.
Reduce social performance requirements rather than pushing through them. It is acceptable to attend briefly and leave. It is acceptable to tell one trusted person that you are not well. It is not acceptable, to yourself, to spend the season pretending everything is fine while deteriorating privately. Festivals do not pause mental health conditions— and enduring one is not treatment.
Put the phone down during the festival. Curated celebration on social media is not a realistic depiction of other people's Diwali— it is the best five minutes of it. Comparing your internal experience to someone else's external presentation is a reliable way to feel worse. You already know this; permission to act on it is sometimes what is needed.
Ask directly— "How are you actually feeling about this Diwali?"— and mean it. Reduce performance expectations. Acknowledge the absence or difficulty explicitly rather than avoiding it. Include them actively rather than assuming they want to be left alone. The most healing thing is often the simplest: being seen honestly, without having to pretend.
The pressure to be visibly happy during Diwali is one of the most isolating experiences I hear about in my practice every year. There is no cultural script for grief during a festival of joy, no socially acceptable language for loneliness in the middle of a celebration of togetherness. So people perform— they smile, they attend, they post the photograph— and they carry whatever they are actually feeling entirely alone. Part of what I want this article to do is simply to name that experience, and to say: you are not the only one. You are not failing the festival. The festival, this year, is simply asking something of you that you do not have to give.Dr. Prerna Kohli, PhD— Clinical Psychologist, in practice since 1993
The Festival and What It Means
Diwali Across Religions— The Shared Thread of Light
For Hindus: Diwali marks the return of Lord Ram, Sita, and Lakshman after defeating Ravan— the triumph of dharma over adharma. Diyas are lit to illuminate the path home and to symbolise the victory of light over darkness. Across regional traditions, Goddess Lakshmi, Lord Ganesha, and Goddess Kali are also worshipped on this occasion.
For Sikhs: Diwali marks the day Guru Hargobind Singh Ji was freed from captivity, along with 52 other prisoners, and returned to the Golden Temple at Amritsar— celebrated as Bandi Chhorh Divas, the Day of Liberation.
For Jains: Diwali marks the nirvana of Lord Mahavira— the moment of his liberation and enlightenment. Lamps are lit to represent the light of wisdom continuing in the world after his passing.
For Buddhists: The day marks Emperor Ashoka's conversion to Buddhism after witnessing the suffering caused by war— his turning from violence toward peace and the Dharma.
Across all of these traditions, the shared thread is light— as a symbol of wisdom over ignorance, liberation over bondage, and the continuation of what is good even in darkness. It is a meaning that speaks across the celebrations, and that speaks, in a different way, to those who are sitting with darkness this season rather than only with light.
The deepest meaning of Diwali— across every tradition it touches— is not the absence of darkness. It is light in the presence of darkness. The diya does not shine because there is no night; it shines because there is. For those who are carrying something heavy this Diwali— grief, loneliness, financial fear, or simply the weight of a difficult year— perhaps that is the version of the festival that belongs to you this year. Not the performance of light. But the quiet act of lighting one small flame in the dark, and letting that be enough.Dr. Prerna Kohli, PhD— Clinical Psychologist, in practice since 1993
Frequently Asked Questions
Why do I feel sad or lonely during Diwali?
As Dr. Prerna Kohli explains: "Diwali is built around togetherness— and that is precisely why it can be painful for those who are away from family, grieving, or without community to celebrate with. The intensity of the festival's emphasis on connection creates a contrast effect: the more loudly togetherness is celebrated around you, the more sharply any absence of it is felt. This is a normal human response to a profound contrast between what the festival promises and what the reality is— not a sign of something wrong with you."
How do you cope with grief during Diwali when a loved one has recently passed?
Give yourself explicit permission to grieve during the festival, without requiring yourself to perform celebration. Find a way to acknowledge the person who is absent— a candle lit for them, a moment of quiet remembrance alongside the celebration. Be honest with close family about how you are feeling rather than performing well-being. The first Diwali without someone is almost always the hardest; grief in subsequent years typically softens as new ways of honouring the person's memory within the festival are found.
Is it normal to feel more anxious or depressed around Diwali?
Yes— the period around major festivals is when clinical psychologists consistently see increases in anxiety, depression, and general psychological distress. Financial pressure, social comparison, family dynamics, the exhaustion of mandatory social performance, and the contrast effect for those who are lonely or grieving all contribute. If Diwali consistently produces significant distress, this is worth examining with professional support rather than simply enduring year after year.
How can I support a family member who is struggling during Diwali?
Ask directly and without pressure— "How are you actually feeling about this Diwali?" Reduce social performance expectations rather than encouraging them to "just enjoy it." Include them actively rather than assuming they want space. Acknowledge any absence or loss explicitly rather than avoiding it. If they are clearly struggling, gently encourage professional support rather than waiting for the festival period to pass.
What should I do if Diwali brings up difficult feelings every year?
A consistent annual pattern of significant psychological distress around Diwali is worth addressing proactively. Prepare emotionally in the weeks before; make deliberate plans that reduce isolation; have a conversation with a trusted person about what support you need before the festival. If the distress is significant, working with a clinical psychologist to understand what the festival activates and how to approach it differently produces lasting change— and the fact that it happens at the same time each year makes it unusually plannable.
You Are Not Alone in Finding This Hard
Diwali brings genuine joy to many people, and that joy is real and worth celebrating. But it brings difficulty to many others— and that difficulty is equally real, and equally worth acknowledging. The two things can be true simultaneously, and neither cancels the other out.
If this Diwali is hard, you are not failing the festival. You are simply a human being, carrying what you are carrying, doing your best in the light available to you. Sometimes that is enough.
Finding This Season Difficult?
If the festival season is bringing up grief, loneliness, anxiety, or something you have been carrying for a while— professional support can help. I offer confidential consultations from my practice in Gurugram, with online sessions available across India and internationally.
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About the author — Dr. Prerna Kohli
Dr. Prerna Kohli is a clinical psychologist with over 30 years of practice, based in Gurugram. She holds a PhD from Aligarh Muslim University, where she was a four-time gold medalist, and received the “100 Women Achievers of India” award from the President of India in 2016. A TEDx speaker and published author, she works with individuals, couples, and families through her private practice — in-clinic in Gurugram and online worldwide — with a particular speciality in NRI mental health.