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During my growing up years, Janmashtami was one day of the entire Hindu festival calendar, I absolutely looked forward to, with the most enthusiasm and a happy heart. Never mind if the day entailed a bout of intermittent fasting of a slightly longer kind, the only day when a youngster like me would voluntarily fast for the day. For at the end of it, when the Puja ritual had been completed and the bhog had been offered to Krishna, the feasting on all the goodies would be completely worth all the ignoring of one’s hungry tummy gnawing away, one had done earlier in the day.
To quell such thoughts of drifting away from the fast, my grand mother would tell us an Odia proverb, “Kashta Kawley Krushna Miley” which roughly translated meant, only if you do penance or hardship will you be able to attain Krishna. I am not sure if it was Krishna which I was trying to attain at the age of nine or ten, but perhaps the sight of all the lovely food being offered to him.
Janmashtami or Krishnashtami or Gokul Ashtami marks the birth of the lovable and mischievous Lord Krishna in Mathura amidst huge adversities, in a dungeon, to imprisoned parents Devaki and Vasudeva. Baby Krishna, according to Hindu mythology, was then carried away by his father through divinely ordained routes to safety (from a scheming, evil maternal uncle Kansa who was plotting to kill him) in Dwaraka to be brought up by his foster parents, Yashoda and Nanda.
Across India, and especially in Mathura, Vrindavan and Dwarka, the festival is celebrated with merriment and joy, including decorating tableaus of the baby idol of Krishna in his flower-bedecked cradle, singing bhajans, and organizing breaking the Dahi Handi (a prank attributed to the young and mischievous Krishna) competitions on the streets, to celebrate the victory of good over evil.
Like the rest of the country, we would also be all agog with the Janmashtami fervour, on the auspicious day of the birth of this most charismatic avatar, hands down, of Lord Vishnu. The entire house would be decked up with flowers and there would be fasting through the day, though the degree of stringency of fasting varied. For the most stringent grade of fasting, like my maternal grandmother indulged in, there would be no drinking water, even. The next less stringent grade of fasting allowed you to have fruit juices: fresh lemon/orange/mosambi juice, bael (wood apple) panna and lassi, light savouries like coconut or rava laddus, with concessions like sabudana or sago khichdi cooked in basic tempering (with no onion-garlic).
Pic- Instagram- madhubish
Every year since we have moved to Hyderabad, I look forward to the invite from my Gujarati friend, who is part of a joint family in the ice cream business, to their Chappan Bhog spread at home. I only wish I had two tummies to fill up all the goodies, ranging from namkeen (mathri ginger, methi,etc, kachoris, mirchi bhajjis, muthiyas, ghughra, dahi vada, sev etc) to sweets like kheer, assorted barfi, kaju katli, dry fruit laddoos, rabri, shrikhand, jalebis to chutneys and murabbas including a home special called Khat-Mith made of raisins, dates, lemon juice and an astringent-tasting ingredient which I have yet to find out about. But what I absolutely look forward to is the Charanamrit made from milk, curd, ghee, honey (made in limited edition for family and close friends) and Ganga jal (though people now substitute it with other ingredients like sugar or cottage cheese), since pure Ganga water is now an impossible proposition!
The entire spread is made by the women (and a few men) of the house, without taking the help of their cooks or Maharaj as they call them. Days of preparations, nights of cooking in a separate area, without tasting any of it, requires perseverance and devotion of a higher kind.
Perhaps that is what Janmashtami.
