Bring on the moon

As far back as my memory goes my mother has celebrated karva chauth at her cousin’s home in Delhi, with her cousin sister in-law (my maiji) leading the ceremonies and being the guide to all the traditions and stories surrounding it.

As a child the ceremonies of karva chauth held no great appeal except that it was the one day that all the cousins got together and spent all evening looking for the moon while their mothers piously prayed for their marriages to be long and happy. Sometimes, on especially cloudy evenings, the fathers would bundle us all into the great big ambassador cars and drive us to India gate where the clear maidan would be the most likely place to spot the moon. A treat of ice cream from the thelawala was our prize. In a good year we even got a balloon each.

Childhood turned into young-girl-hood and I began to take a greater interest in the lore and mechanics of the festival. I remember sitting in the room listening to my maiji reciting the paath and leading all the young women (cousins, nieces, friends – newlyweds joining in each year) through the ceremony. This is what I remember.

Originally, in ancient times, the celebration of karva chauth was started as a day on which women got a rest from cooking and cleaning. A day of well deserved rest. With time the day got a religious bend to it and it became a day that married women fasted to ensure the long and prosperous life of their husbands. It is celebrated all over north India, predominantly in Uttar Pradesh (where my mum is from), Madhya Pradesh and Punjab. All these states have their own version of the tale of karva chauth and the prayers said in each state are all variations of one another. This is the story (the paath) as told in Uttar Pradesh – my interpretation and definitely an abridged version. It also sounds much nicer in Hindi.

“A woman’s husband takes ill and dies because she has not prayed for his health or prosperity and greedily not fasted or prayed. She repents and takes her husbands body under a tree and sits and does tapasya [prayer through penance]. One by one 6 witches come and to each one she asks to exchange karva's (terracotta/ clay pot with a spout and little lid) with her to complete her penance and bring her husband back to life. Each of the 6 witches denies and goes away. However, the 7th witch is impressed with the woman’s penance and patience and exchanges karva's with her, bringing her husband back to life and ensuring success and hapiness for many years to come. “

Traditionally women wake before dawn to eat and drink something. Then they keep a vrath (fast) all day, taking nothing either to eat or drink from sunrise onwards. This fast is called 'nirjal' or 'without water'. This is far harder than it sounds as being hungry is one thing but being thirsty is quite another. In the evening, after sunset, a pooja is done. A figurine of atta [kneaded flour/ dough] called 'gaur' is made and prayed to. The gaur is meant to be the embodiment of all the female incarnations of god. Women will dress in pink or red; wedding finery is usually aired this day with heavy sarees and jewelry being donned. Prayers are usually given with sisters-in-law, mothers etc, just after sunset. Each woman has her own karva [and one karva is kept for the gaur]. Each karva is filled with water and over the top lid 7 poori's, a pua and some money are kept. The paath is recited. Then once the moon is sighted, each woman takes her karva to where she can see the moon. She must look at the moon, pray for the longevity, good health and prosperity of her husband and pour some of the water from the karva - this is to be repeated 7 times by each woman. Then all the women come back to the pooja and passing the karva to another woman, one says 'pua passun?' [should i eat this pua?] and the woman replies 'passon' ['eat'] - the pua is broken into 7 bits and each time the woman eats one bit. Two women must do this for each other 7 times - usually you just touch karva's with the other woman, not actually exchange them.

I still remember my first karva chauth as if it were yesterday. I had none of the paraphanalia; no karva, no gaur, no pooris or puaas. But with a long email from my mum I quickly adapted. Got the poori’s from a restaurant, a glass and small lid to be my karva and a small bar of chocolate to be my puaas. I made a small gaur with atta and did the pooja quietly at home, dressed in what little Indian finery I had had carried from India to London. It was an especially cloudy night and whilst I stayed home, V went off walk around the Sainsbury parking lot to check on the whereabouts of the moon. Funnily enough he was not the only one there as there were other desi guys (his classmates) also duly dispatched!

Now I have got better and better at it. More organized, getting my karva from India, making the poori’s and puaas at home. It has been said that the modern women needs to move on with the times and one unbelieving friend laughs every time she hears I keep a fast for karva chauth. I disagree as I believe that a balance between the modern and traditional is possible to achieve. It is a festival that in some way comforts me. I like to think of it as an Indian anniversary, a celebration for married women to rejoice in their married-ness.

Tomorrow is my fifth karva chauth. May the moon rise from behind the clouds before I faint.

maidan: open space/ park, such as the famous Kolkata maidan
thelawala: Man with cart selling stuff – in this case ice cream
maiji: Maternal aunt (mother’s brothers {or cousin} wife)
vrath: fast

pooja: prayer/ worship

karva: small terracotta/ clay pot with a spout and little lid
poori: A light unleavened bread that is deep fried in oil. Simply scrumptious!
puaas: A baby Indian pancake steeped in sugar water. Sweet, sweet sweet.