Guwahati: Festive glow dims as mustard oil prices soar

STAFF REPORTER

GUWAHATI: As Diwali approached, Guwahati’s streets—usually vibrant with festive colours and bustling crowds—appeared unusually subdued this year. In markets such as Beltola and Fancy Bazar, the typical rush for diyas, sweets, and decorations thinned to a trickle. Vendors said the city’s festive spirit felt muted, weighed down by rising costs and the lingering grief over the death of Assam’s beloved singer, Zubeen Garg.

Potters and small-scale artisans were among those hit the hardest, having prepared thousands of earthen lamps ahead of the festival. Many sat beside stacks of unsold diyas. “It didn’t feel like Diwali this year,” said one potter quietly, glancing at rows of unbought lamps.

The situation worsened with the soaring price of mustard oil, a staple for both cooking and traditional diya lighting. With retail prices reaching Rs 90–100 for 500 ml and up to Rs 170 per litre, households across the city scaled back their purchases. “It became difficult to afford lighting diyas,” said Malini Nath, a resident of Beltola. “In past years, I bought bottles just for the festivities, but now it has become a luxury.”

Many families turned to cheaper alternatives such as Chinese string lights and LED water diyas. A Hatigaon resident explained, “Traditionally, we light 14 diyas, but now we have switched to plastic or LED ones—mustard oil prices are just beyond reach.”

Local traders also felt the impact. Kallol Pathak, who runs a general store in Beltola, said, “Customers are buying less mustard oil, and when they do, it’s in smaller quantities. Prices have risen sharply, but we’re getting blamed for it.” Even the cost of diyas increased this season, further dampening demand.

Despite the economic strain, some residents stayed committed to tradition. “Diwali feels incomplete without the warm glow of oil lamps,” said an elderly shopper in Fancy Bazar. “Even if I can light just a few, I will—it’s our culture.”

As the festival of lights neared, Guwahati’s Diwali appeared caught between sentiment and survival—where tradition flickered faintly against the rising tide of prices and a city still coming to terms with loss.

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