Amid the rumbling vibrancy of Mumbai, a city of around 27 million within a country of nearly 1.5 billion, lies my small yet mighty community where everyone knows each other. We enjoy the everyday treasures of our Indian culture, from Bollywood dancing to savory foods. Many of our friends and neighbors celebrate Diwali in all its richness and spirit, and we, too, celebrate a festival of lights. It just happens a few weeks later and is called Chanukah.
The Jewish community in India, concentrated mainly within Mumbai, includes roughly 4,500 people, with the first Jews having arrived in southern India around the 10th century BCE. Today, we can be found throughout the country and represent homegrown traditions, such as those of my family, the Bene Israel, as well as the Cochini Jews in the Kochi region and those whose ancestors hail from the Sefardi Jews of Baghdad. And as vibrant a community as we have, most people probably wouldn’t have even guessed that we are here.
Indian Jews have always been a tiny community, but knowing we are part of a global Jewish family spread across continents yet connected by tradition, values and shared history gives us a profound sense of belonging.
Our Jewish identities are inextricably linked with our national culture; they are complementary identities, not conflicting ones. Our neighbors not only understand and appreciate this truth, but they are also supportive of it.
Unfortunately, in the global landscape, stories of local Jewish communities past and present are often led with the tales of the antisemitism they face. Ours is a different one.
Our community is largely unscathed by antisemitism and has existed here for centuries, fully integrated as Indians and Jews. However, the global surge in antisemitism has found its way to social media. Some teens in our community face bullying and harassment. What we’re seeing online is not unique to the Jewish people, but we do have unique ways of expressing our Jewishness.
When more than 200 of us gather for our annual Hanukkah event, in a historic theater outside of the Jewish community in Mumbai, it is a celebration in its purest form and demonstrates how integrated we are in Indian life. For the past 25 years, we’ve held “Khai Fest,” which translates to a “festival of life.” Here, the multi-layered vibrancy of our community is on full display. From Bollywood dancing, traditional foods like masala chai and fried desserts, stand-up comedy, and lighting menorahs, there is no shortage of joy and delight.
One of my favorite holiday memories is that of the smiles on the faces of children as they proudly carried handmade menorahs home after the Khai Fest. Teens and young adults participating in a local youth volunteer program took turns working with the children to craft the menorahs, passing on our cherished traditions and Hanukkah’s miracle of increasing holiness and light in our world. This is a joyful testament to my organization’s work to build bridges across generations with creativity and purpose.
This time last year, like many Jews around the world, we took a solemn moment of silence to pray for the hostages and their safe return. This year, our prayers were answered. While there is still much work left to do, creating space for happiness and celebration is a vital part of the healing process. And through this patchwork of emotions, our small community feels connected with our Jewish brothers and sisters around the globe, including our family and friends in Israel. Over the past two years, even our happiest community events and celebrations were quietly marked by reflective moments.
This year, we are mourning the beautiful souls lost in Sydney, whose lives were violently taken while celebrating Hanukkah. The Indian Jewish community stands in solidarity with our fellow Jews in Australia, knowing that any efforts to dim our light require us to glow even brighter.
Khai Fest is a reminder that India makes room for us – our stories, our rituals, our lights. In a world that often fails to celebrate minority identities, ours continues to shine not in spite of our surroundings, but because of them.
This Hanukkah, I hope people around the world take a moment to notice the communities hidden in plain sight, like mine. Our lights may be fewer in number and size, but they burn brightly all the same. Our story is not one of survival, but of belonging. That, too, is a festival of lights worth celebrating.
is senior manager of the Evelyn Peters Jewish Community Center in Mumbai.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JR or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.
