Reclaiming Karva Chauth

When I moved to the North of India, Karva Chauth stopped being a trope in Hindi movies and became a real live thing- dinners were delayed and events were cancelled because of it; and there were all round me, on that day the oxymoron of simultaneous fasting and celebration. I was at that time a young mother, unsure writer and part time teacher, so I just allowed it all to drift past me without engagement.

Then more than a decade later, I came back to the heartland of Karva Chauth. Now a more assured woman, I had opinions, I had ideas. This time I watched it with a horrified fascination that one has for perhaps, snakes. I came from a community that did not practice Karva Chauth. But it had permeated my conscious and I wanted to know more about it.

I set about discovering all I could about Karva Chauth. I found the story of Queen Veeravati and that of Karva maa. I also found the connection between the festival and the Satyavan-Savithri story. I dug deeper, and found this gem-

One account says the origin of Karva Chauth lies in this charming tradition. This was during the era when child marriages were the norm. Little girls got married and moved far way from home. Communication with parental families was difficult and visiting, infrequent. So the parents would anoint another girl from the bride's village, now married into the village the bride will be moving to, a girl around the same age as the bride and wholly unconnected to the bride's in-laws as her "Kangana-behen" with a formal ceremony, a few days before the wedding. The relationship would be sealed with an exchange of bangles or Kangans. The two now were foster sisters and would watch out for each other, providing emotional and moral support in an unknown land.  On Karva Chauth, the women would make or buy a new Karva or earthen pot, decorate it, fill it with things women like to own and use, like bangles and ribbons- who knows, these were young girls, perhaps a doll or two snuck in- I would like to think it did, and freshly made sweets. Then they would visit their Kangana-behen and exchange these karvas and renew their bonds.

What a beautiful idea, a festival to strengthen and celebrate sisterhood. I was quite excited by this discovery. I did a quick survey among some people who observed Karva Chauth. Just one of then had heard of it. This was a sobering and not entirely surprising thing. Sisterhood is anathema to patriarchy. Somewhere along the way, the festival was changed perhaps to yet another one glorifying patriarchal values. I can quite imagine someone one day saying, " A Mother-in-law is a girl's best friend", and thus was born the Sargi and the gifting in return. Or it may just have morphed into another " good Indian wife" festival.

Flash forward to 2016. Thanks to social media and growing conversations on the issues affecting women, this festival is caught in the middle of a great debate. The nay-sayers are shouting, "patriarchal oppression." The followers are defensive, "I love my family. I love the festival. Who's Karva Chauth is it anyway?" The ad men, for their part, spotted an opportunity and swooped in- " Jo biwi say kare pyaar, woh shopping say kaise kare inkaar?" The bigger your gift, the deeper your love.

Into this story, now comes an invitation for me to attend a Karva Chauth party. Here I have to clarify my stand. I don't do Karva Chauth.  For one, my community doesn't do this. For another I object to it one two counts- I don't like prescriptive, cautionary tales. And I cannot pray to my husband as though he were God.

But I definitely do friendships. And I should remind you of my fascination with this festival I knew very little about. So, after figuring out the dress code. I trotted off to my first Karva Chauth party.

My friend made a gracious, warm hostess. The house was filled with laughing, chattering women. All had made special efforts to mark the occasion.  Beautiful garments, exquisite jewelry, kohl-lined eyes and hennaed hands. Compliments and camaraderie flowed like good wine and I think we were all a little heady by the time the puja started. It was interesting - many women from other communities had adopted this festival. They were participating in this puja on their own terms and all they met with was encouragement. Someone, because she found it beautiful, someone else because this was how she honored her friend's invitation.   The reasons did not matter, nor did the manner of observing it. Everybody had a place there, even a by-stander like me

Some pictures from that moment

The Puja happened with some hiccups and stutters, charmingly typical of much of the religious events that my generation performs. We are better than our kids; we know the framework. We don't know the details, so we wing it. Here we winged it collectively. It was amidst laugher, arguments, hastily bit off inappropriate sentences and leg pulling.

After, the hostess served a high tea for those willing to eat. As we sat around, I watched old bonds taking a new shape and new ones being forged. The whole thing had come full circle. Now these women were making an informed choice to follow this practice, women alien to this custom had co-opted this into their lives on their own terms and the whole even had been tuned into an evening of sisterhood.

A small victory against patriarchy.