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Nepali festivals show the diversity of NJ Desis
Nepalis in NJ share the challenges of preserving their culture as a minority within a minority.
Adhikary, left, and Shah, right, celebrate Nepali festivals with their families. (Photos courtesy of Adhikary and Shah)
For many in the Desi diaspora, the longing for home feels strongest during festival season. While states like New Jersey recognize major celebrations such as Eid and Diwali, the vast diversity within the Desi community means many other festivals go unacknowledged.
Among them are two of the Nepalese community's most cherished traditions: Dashain and Tihar. Deeply rooted in Hindu mythology, these festivals have their own cultural significance, yet Indian festivals like Dussehra and Diwali are better known globally.
I feel like Nepalese culture is not being recognized—not enough, not at all.
In Desi enclaves like Edison and Piscataway, the Nepalese community gathers for celebrations through events hosted by organizations such as Friends of Nepal New Jersey and New Jersey Nepali Samaj. Many also strive to recreate elements of the celebrations in their homes as they celebrate with friends and family.
This year, Dashain ran from Oct. 3 to Oct. 16, followed by Tihar from Oct. 30 to Nov. 3. I spoke with two community members about their celebrations and the role these festivals play in preserving the Nepalese identity. Here’s what they shared, in their own words:
Geeta Shah of Union County on celebrating Dashain
Shah (Photo courtesy of Geeta Shah)
Dashain, Nepal’s biggest festival, is a 15-day celebration filled with rituals, joy, and community. Some of my most special memories are from the early mornings when my cousins, brothers, and I would wake up at 4 a.m. to pray at the temple until 6 or 7 a.m. We’d then gather for a hearty breakfast of puri bhaji, sabzi, and everything else our families prepared.
During the day, my cousins and I would gather to play cards or go shopping. In the evenings, we’d head to the local mela to watch Ramlila. For nine nights, it was the same excitement. Our hearts were as full as our bellies. I remember buying mud toys from the market and playing with them at home. Kids today don’t have that—they’re glued to their devices. But back then, those simple joys meant everything.
Shah and her family celebrating Dashain at their home in Union County. (Photo courtesy of Geeta Shah)
Every day of Dashain has its own traditions. It was possible to follow them when I was in Nepal because we had days off to prepare, shop for traditional clothes, and visit loved ones. There was time to even make the tedious sel roti, but it was worth it because the sweet aroma filled every home in our neighborhood. Food is a big part of the celebrations. We’d enjoy different achars, including potato, radish, and mutton.
For the adults, Dashain is all about reconnecting with family and honoring traditions, but for the kids, it’s about feasting, the new clothes, and the dakshina (money) they get from elders with blessings.
Since moving to New Jersey, celebrating Dashain hasn’t been the same. We don’t have the luxury of holidays to honor all 15 days, but we do what we can—applying tika, cooking traditional foods, and playing cards. The card games were always a highlight, bringing everyone together. The adrenaline rush of betting money earned through blessings and hoping not to lose it was a challenge everyone enjoyed. Personally, I’m not a big fan, but I still play Flush with my husband and kids to keep the tradition alive.
Shah and her family putting tika on each other as part of their tradition. (Photo courtesy of Geeta Shah)
Living in New Jersey has been peaceful, especially compared to the chaos of Queens, but I feel Nepalese culture isn’t recognized here—not enough, not at all. Everyone knows about Diwali, the Indian festival, but nobody knows about Dashain or Tihar. Even within the South Asian community, it feels like our traditions are invisible.
Even within the South Asian community, it feels like our traditions are invisible.
This lack of recognition weighs on me as a mother trying to instill pride in my son’s Nepalese identity. He’s in middle school and old enough to notice the subtle ways people make him feel unseen. One day, he came home upset. His classmates had been calling him “Indian.” While it may seem minor, it felt like soft bullying to him. He even said he wanted to change schools, and now I have to work hard to help him regain confidence.
I have to explain my culture and festivals to my coworkers and friends all the time. Sometimes they will still wish me “Happy Diwali,” and it is a bit disappointing. I don’t always have the energy to correct them, and it saddens me that my son is growing up feeling unheard and unseen like this. I just hope that by celebrating these traditions at home, even in small ways, he feels more connected to where we come from and who we are.
Preeti Adhikary of Bergen County on celebrating Tihar
Adhikary (Photo courtesy of Preeti Adhikary)
Tihar was always freeing for me back in Nepal. Nobody worried about work, school, or life—it was pure joy because everyone had a holiday. Sure, the cleaning and preparation beforehand were taxing, but looking back, it brought the community together.
In Nepal, Tihar is a five-day celebration, with each day dedicated to honoring animals and their significance in our lives. The first day, Kaag Tihar, is when we worship and feed crows. Next is Kukur Tihar, when we honor dogs with tika and garlands—no dog goes without food or affection that day. We dedicate the third day, Gai Tihar, to cows, and also worship the goddess Lakshmi. All the cleaning and decorating pays off when we pray to Lakshmi for good wealth and fortune. The fourth day, Goru Puja, is for oxen, and the fifth day, Bhai Tika, is the most festive, as brothers and sisters celebrate their sibling bond with tika, gifts, and blessings.
Since moving to New Jersey and closer to my sister, Tihar has felt less lonely. We’ve created our own traditions. Her two sons and my daughter celebrate Bhai Tika together, marking each other with tika. I don’t have a brother, but I’ve never felt the need for one because my sister and I have always done tika on each other. In Nepal, during Bhai Tika, we'd receive so many tikas from extended family and neighbors that it would almost cover our whole forehead. Kids especially loved it, running from house to house, collecting blessings.
Adhikary and her sister doing tika on each other during Bhai Tika. (Photo courtesy of Preeti Adhikary)
To recreate that sense of community, a few Nepalese families in Bergen County and even some non-Nepalese families have started joining us for Bhai Tika. My sister has become the unofficial mayor of our small group. I moved to be closer to her, and she’s managed to lure a few other Nepalese friends who’ve also moved to New Jersey to be near one another. Now, there’s a group of 12 to 15 kids who come to celebrate with us. To them, it’s like an art class, with tikas in different colors—almost like a rainbow on their foreheads. It’s heartwarming to see the joy our culture brings them.
Adhikary celebrates Tihar with her family and friends. (Photo courtesy of Preeti Adhikary)
I’m glad I can pass on some of these traditions to the kids. For me, it’s not just about religion—it’s also about building a community here in New Jersey because our area doesn’t have a large Nepalese diaspora like Queens or Boston. But I will say that the recognition of our culture on larger platforms is improving slowly. The New York City Council celebrated Dashain at City Hall this year, so I think we’re progressing, hopefully.
These interviews have been edited and condensed. Tehsin Pala is the associate editor of Central Desi.
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