A Hindu and an Atheist Walk Into a Bar

Long ago, when the world had barely emerged from the primordial soup, Lord Shiva drank the poison that turned his body blue. In this act of supreme sacrifice, he transformed the poison and saved the world from annihilation. Shiva is both the destroyer of evil and protector of the cosmos, and is worshipped for this duality*. The Hindu month of Saun (July 17th to Aug 16th) is devoted to him. It's no surprise that Shiva's holy month aligns with the monsoon season. With verdant hills and lush fields abounding, Saun certainly feels like a period of transformation and renewal. Let me take you through this month, absolutely jam-packed with ritual and celebration. 

Monsoon mist and mysticism 

You probably noticed from the dates above that Nepal operates on a different calendar, offset from the Gregorian one by about 16 days. The Hindu calendar is lunisolar, based on both moon phases and solar cycles, so many holidays coincide with either the new or full moon. It's also currently the year 2082, and let me tell you, the future isn't any better than the present. (As an aside, every Nepali house I've been to has one or more calendars outside on the veranda. The current calendar count at my house: three outside + one in the kitchen). 

Nepali wall decor

Okay, let's get back to Saun. The first holiday in this month's series was Naag Panchami, a day dedicated to the worship of snakes. Symbols of strength, snakes are often depicted coiled around Shiva's neck in Hindu devotional art. In Nepal, Naag Panchami is celebrated by posting snake images on outside walls using dung and dubo (holy grass). My host brother also made a small offering in our kitchen garden, using cups molded from cow dung and filled with milk, rice, roti, wheat, and corn. Snakes play an important role in curbing rodent populations in rice paddies; no doubt this holiday began as a way to give thanks for their role in maintaining ecological balance. 

Snakes, dung, and grass

Next up was Raksha Bandan. From my internet sleuthing, it seems this holiday was originally an Indian/Terai celebration that has made its way into Nepal's mid-hills over the past two decades. On this day, men change their sacred threads (which always makes me think of Mormon's holy underwear) and people tie red and yellow bands around each other's wrists to symbolize the bonds of love and protection. I was home with just my younger host brother and his teenage cousin when the Brahmin priest came around with the bands. Over the phone, my host father told me to pay the Brahman 350 rupees, but I only had 150 on me. I'm sure my karma took a hit for stiffing a priest. 

The next day was another holiday: Krishna Janmashtami, a.k.a. Krishna's birthday. Didn't I tell you this month was packed? Krishna is a major god in Hinduism, and his birth is recounted in the Bhagavata Purana. On this day, Hindus fast, reenact stories of Krishna's life from Hindu scripture, and dress their children as Krishna (yellow dhoti, headpiece, and flute) and his consort, Radha. 

Krishna costume (image source here)

I heard there would be dancing and merrymaking at Supa Deurali Temple, the center of religious life in the Arghakhanchi district. I waffled back and forth on whether I should attend (the chipper, can-do, up-for-anything attitude befitting a Peace Corps volunteer does not come naturally to me) until my friend and fellow volunteer Alyssa told me she would be going with her Didi, her neighbors, and her neighbor's kids. Krishna Janmashtami was also so vividly described in one of my favorite novels, A Passage to India, that I thought I ought to experience it for myself.

I am so glad I went, although my description of the festivities is nowhere near E.M. Forester's prose. I began the day with a 40-minute walk uphill to the highway, where I caught a bus and met with Alyssa. We observed that mothers' groups from around Arghakhanchi had come and set up dance circles on the road leading to Supa. They wore the many varied saris of the Hindu castes, with traditional Magar (an ethnic group native to Nepal) attire tucked into the dance runway. Luckily, I was only made to dance for 30 seconds before being allowed to simply watch. We received tikas and took too many photos, often with random Nepalis who would come up and ask, "Selfie?" Despite the energy around me, I felt quite relaxed throughout the celebration.  

It's not a Nepali holiday without dancing

Hey, look! It's Alyssa and I

The next holiday was a familiar one: Father's Day, known in Nepali as Kushe Aunsi. My young host brothers gave my host father gifts of almonds and raisins and blessed him with tika. The only unknown element to me was the inclusion of sacred kush grass, given to the family by a priest and brought into the house to honor the family's ancestors and purify the home. 

Festivities at Supa Deurali

And now we've come to the main event: Teej!  Although this year it fell in the month of Bhado (August 17th to September 16th), I'm including it here as it really caps off the series of holidays that began a month earlier. Saun/Bhado are especially spiritually charged for women, who wear green bangles, apply mehendi to their palms, dress in red and yellow saris, and fast on each Monday. These rituals are undertaken in preparation for the three-day, woman-centered (although male-focused, more on this later) festival of Teej. 

The legend behind the holiday is this: Parvati's father, King Himavat, the personification of the Himalayas, promised her in marriage to Lord Vishnu. Parvati, in love with Shiva, ran off into the forest, where she abstained from food and water and focused all her energy on meditation. Moved by his daughter's strength and devotion, Himavat allowed her to marry Shiva instead. 

The first day of Teej is Dar Khane Din, literally "feast eating day." My host father's sisters and one of their daughters came to our house, returning to their maitighar/birthplace, and all the women cooked a meal together. We prepared goat meat, rice with ghee and vegetables (essentially a pilaf), cucumber and potato achaar, and a sweet yogurt dish.  As the second day, Haritalika Teej, requires women to fast just as Parvati did, this feast is meant to sustain all the dancing and singing that follows.  

However, none of the women in my family observed a strict fast. My host sister consumed only milk and fruit, no grains, which defeats the purpose of a fast in my opinion, but who cares what I think? Starting in the late afternoon, I heard drums and singing in the little bazaar square just a 3-minute walk from my house. As I believed Teej to be an all-night affair (and I'm sure it is in Kathmandu and Pokhara), I didn't head down until 6:15. Twenty minutes after I arrived, however, everyone decided to pack it up and head home. I was secretly delighted by this timing, as I dislike dancing and really didn't want to put up with the repeated pleas to "dance, monkey, dance!" It was the perfect length of time to experience the holiday without any frustrations. 

Pre-Teej Dancing

The last day of Teej is Rishi Panchami. On this day, women pray to the seven Hindu sages (rishis) and atone for the impurity associated with menstruation. Of course, the misogynistic undertones were lost on me until I did some later research. I observed the rituals divorced from their meaning. My Didi took a bath in the morning, and then we attended a puja along with other women from the village. A Brahmin priest read from Hindu scripture, and the women made offerings of dubo, ghiu, kush, betel leaves, cotton, ash, and money as instructed. I was appointed videographer and photographer of the event, and after the puja, I recorded countless TikToks. 

Rishi Panchami puja

I don't know where I stand on Teej (but like I said earlier, who cares what I think? Certainly not Nepali Hindus). Is it a celebration of female strength and empowerment, or a product of a deeply patriarchal society? Ostensibly, it's a holiday for women, but men are really the focus. Wives fast for their husband's health, unmarried girls fast to ensure a good future husband, and women repent for the natural process of menstruation. 

But Teej also gives women a time to come together, rejoice in their femininity, party a bit, and take a break from their daily household duties. As a cultural outsider, I'm going to ride the fence on this and say Teej is a little bit of column A and column B, both upholding gender roles and fostering female empowerment. 

My verdict is the same when it comes to menstruation rules. Menstruation is highly stigmatized in Nepal, and menstruating women face various restrictions in daily life. (For an extreme example, look into chhaupadi in the Far West region of the country). One could argue the intent is good, giving women a break from cooking and cleaning when they need the most rest. But all these rules are just another way to control women's bodies. 

In my household, the rules are nonsensical. For three days, my Didi can't touch the gas burner or cookstove to avoid tainting the food--but she is allowed to clean the dishes (isn't she tainting the plates for future meals?). She can't go up to the second story of the house, though I can't work out why. And she can't touch other people. When we pass things to each other, we must put them on the ground for her to pick up, and vice versa. After my first month at site, I stopped telling my host family when I'm menstruating, and they have not asked. I've been able to skirt these archaic rules. 

I'm building an army of dogs with eyebrows

So that's it for a month (and a half) of festivals. There's a bit of a break now, and then the festival season kicks off again at the end of September with Dashain, Nepal's longest and most important celebration. Stay tuned for that! Thanks for reading! 

Here I Yam! with an unknown woman who wanted a selfie.
No one is a stranger in Nepal

*Hindu readers, I apologize for any inaccuracies. I tried my best.