The Real Reason Diwali Happens on an Amavasya Night
Riya Kumari | Oct 08, 2025, 16:02 IST
Diwali
( Image credit : Pixabay )
Highlight of the story: On the night of Diwali, when every home glows with a thousand lamps, the sky itself is dark. No moon, no silver lining, just a vast, endless blackness. And yet, it is this night, the Amavasya, the night of no moon, that we call the festival of light. There is something deeply poetic, even divine, in that choice.
Every year, we light lamps and celebrate Diwali, the festival of light, joy, and hope. Yet, most of us overlook a question that carries a far deeper truth: Why is Diwali celebrated on the darkest night of the year, Amavasya, when the moon disappears? Why not on a full moon, when light already fills the sky? Why does the celebration of illumination begin from total darkness? The answer is not poetic coincidence. It is spiritual design, a mirror of life itself. Hindu wisdom deliberately chose Amavasya to teach us that real light is not found in brightness. It is found when everything familiar, comfort, clarity, certainty, vanishes. It is found when we are left alone with our own darkness.
In the scriptures, Amavasya is not simply a “dark moon day.” It represents the pause between endings and beginnings, the still moment before light re-emerges. In the Skanda Purana, Diwali’s Amavasya is called Kartik Amavasya, a night when the Goddess Lakshmi herself descended to bless those whose homes and hearts were prepared. But notice: her arrival happens not when the world is already bright, but when it is completely dark. It’s the same in life, grace enters only when our noise stops, when our self-importance, our clutter, our constant doing finally dissolves. Amavasya symbolizes that sacred emptiness, the humility required for true abundance.
That’s why every tradition around Diwali begins with cleansing. Homes are scrubbed, debts are cleared, old grudges are released. Because light cannot enter a space already filled with old shadows. Lakshmi, in every story, comes only to those who have first created space.
According to Shastra, darkness isn’t the enemy of light, it’s its mother. The Rig Veda calls darkness “the womb of existence”, tamaso mā jyotir gamaya, “From darkness, lead me to light.” The journey begins from darkness, not away from it. That’s why Diwali doesn’t ask us to deny darkness. It asks us to enter it consciously, to see what it reveals. Just as the moon disappears before it is reborn, we too must sometimes vanish, lose our identities, attachments, and illusions, before we can rediscover what truly shines.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna reminds Arjuna that light and darkness, joy and sorrow, success and loss are part of one divine rhythm. Neither lasts forever. The wise do not panic when light fades, because they understand: the night too is sacred. It prepares you.
When Lord Rama returned to Ayodhya after 14 years of exile, it was Amavasya. The people lit lamps not because the night was dark, but because he had returned. That’s the lesson: We don’t wait for light to appear, we create it, by welcoming truth back into our lives. Every Diwali, the story repeats itself inside us. The exile of Rama is the exile of our own consciousness, when we drift away from our values, our peace, our inner clarity. The lighting of lamps is not ritual alone, it’s an act of remembrance.
It says: “Even if I’ve lost my way, I can return home.” That’s why Diwali happens on Amavasya, because only when the night is darkest, do we recognize how much we miss the light.
Every person goes through an Amavasya, a phase when everything feels uncertain. The job fails. The relationship ends. The health, the hope, the plan, disappears. That is your inner Amavasya. And Diwali reminds you: that moment is not punishment. It’s preparation. When life strips you of light, it’s not taking something away, it’s creating space for a new kind of illumination. Lakshmi doesn’t enter cluttered hearts. Rama doesn’t return to a distracted mind. And your own wisdom cannot arise while you’re busy running from your pain.
That’s why Diwali’s first lesson is: Do not fear darkness. Face it. Light your lamp anyway. Every diya you light is not for decoration. It is an act of defiance, a reminder that even when life hides the moon, you still carry your own source of light.
The true meaning of life
In the Katha Upanishad, light is not defined as what we see, but what allows us to see. “The sun does not shine there, nor the moon, nor fire. When That shines, everything shines after it.” That “That” is your consciousness, the awareness behind all appearances. When you realize this, you understand why Diwali is not about the number of lamps outside your home, but about the single flame within.
The hidden wisdom behind amavasya
That’s why every tradition around Diwali begins with cleansing. Homes are scrubbed, debts are cleared, old grudges are released. Because light cannot enter a space already filled with old shadows. Lakshmi, in every story, comes only to those who have first created space.
The cosmic symbolism - When darkness is sacred
The return of rama and return of our own light
It says: “Even if I’ve lost my way, I can return home.” That’s why Diwali happens on Amavasya, because only when the night is darkest, do we recognize how much we miss the light.
Inner amavasya - what this night teaches about life
That’s why Diwali’s first lesson is: Do not fear darkness. Face it. Light your lamp anyway. Every diya you light is not for decoration. It is an act of defiance, a reminder that even when life hides the moon, you still carry your own source of light.
The true meaning of life
- We will all face nights with no moon, nights when even prayer feels unheard. But that’s exactly where the teaching lies: The universe chose darkness to remind us, light is not given, it is chosen.
- We light our diyas not to chase away night, but to transform it. We celebrate not because light has arrived, but because we have remembered that it never truly left.
- So when you light your lamp this Diwali, don’t just celebrate what’s visible. Celebrate what was invisible but waiting. Celebrate the darkness that made your light necessary.