A Festival of Chira

The humble flattened rice or chira may not be the preferred food for city kids anymore, but there is a 500-year old festival in my hometown Panihati, which carries the name of “chira”, as we call the item known as poha/chura/chidwa in various states.

Traditionally, people in parts of Eastern India, including Bengal, eat chira with milk or dadhi/dahi (curd), sweetened by jaggery. Panihati Chira-Dadhi Utsab or “Danda Mahotsab” witnesses tens of thousands of Vaishnava devotees assembling in Mahotsabtala ghat on the banks of the Ganga every year in the month of Jyestha on Shukla Trayodashi, and having an auspicious feast of chira-dadhi, along with naam-sankirtan and other festivities associated with Gaudiya Vaishnavism.

Colloquially called “chirer mela”, the festival commemorates the Panihati visits of Bhakti movement icon Shri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu and his friend and disciple Shri Nityananda Mahaprabhu, together called "Gaur-Nitai" by devotees, in and around 1515 A.D.

Why chira-dadhi and why it is called Danda Mahotsav or the Festival of Punishment? The legend has it that Shri Chaitanya devotee Raghunath (later famous as Raghunath Dasa Goswami), the son of a wealthy landlord of Saptagram, wanted to renounce worldly affairs and join the Mahaprabhu, but was sent back by him. Once, Raghunath came to know that Shri Nityananda was in Panihati and went to him. Seeing him sitting under a banyan tree on the banks of the river, surrounded by disciples, Raghunath was hesitant and paid his obeisance from a distance. But he was called by Shri Nityananda, who told him in a tone of humour that he will have to accept a punishment for hiding like a thief, and treat all devotees to chira-dadhi, a direction Raghunath followed happily, and received the blessings of the lords. It is mentioned in Chaitanya Charitamrita, a biography of the Bhakti movement leader by poet Krishnadas Kabiraj.

কৌতুকী নিত্যানন্দ সহজে দয়াময়।/রঘুনাথে কহে কিছু হঞা সদয়।।/নিকটে না আইস,চোরা ভাগ' দূরে দূরে।/আজি লাগ্ পাঞাছি, দণ্ডিমু তোমারে।।/দধি চিঁড়া ভক্ষণ করাহ মোর গণে।/শুনি আনন্দিত হৈল রঘুনাথ মনে।।

A banyan tree in Mahotsabtala is believed to be the same under which Shri Chaitanya and Nityananda rested and is venerated by Vaishnavas. Shri Chatanya's first visit to Panihati from Puri in the month of Kartik in 1514 is also celebrated every year. Shri Ramkrishna was a regular participant in Danda Mahotsab. Mahatma Gandhi, who often used to stay in nearby Sodepur Khadi Pratisthan, visited Mahotsabtala in 1946.

(In pic: The revered banyan tree; for information, help taken from Panihati municipality website and some Isckon sites)

Sikkim: Kangchenjunga from a kitchen, and a “guided” trek

Bengalis have a nostalgic obsession with Kangchenjunga, or the “five treasures of snow”, (as derived from words of Tibetan origin). We may not exactly attach a religious significance to the mountain like the people of the hills do, but our literature, songs and films are full of references to Kangchenjunga, and visiting Darjeeling and not getting a chance to see it becomes a “prestige issue”.

So, it was quite depressing for us when the Kangchenjunga kept itself hidden behind dark clouds during our last trip to Darjeeling in 2018. Like 'chataka', the bird that waits for the rains, we ended up looking up to the sky endlessly.

But my trip to Sikkim last month, with my sisters and their families, made up for it.

We reached Gangtok late in the afternoon and as I woke up the next morning and glanced outside, there it was, the snowy peaks glistening brightly against a super clear sunlit sky. I was so excited that I rushed through the steep stairs of our hotel, ignoring strong protests from my knees, and reached the 3rd floor terrace-cum-dining hall as fast as possible. I started clicking pictures furiously, but a mere phone camera cannot capture the magnificence or the feeling of elation. May be a DSLR would have done a better job, but nothing can compare with the 576 megapixel of the human eye. I kept the phone away, finally, and started savouring the scene in a more relaxed manner, along with hot luchis and aloo-ki-sabji that arrived soon.

The mighty Kangchnjunga

Over the next few days, we saw the Kangchenjunga many times, in many manifestations and many colours. But the most interesting sighting was from the kitchen window of the cottage of an elderly local lady who stayed beside our hotel.

As my elder sister and I were returning from a morning walk one day, our hotel manager, a middle-aged genial Bengali gent, requested the lady (she is called aunty by people of all ages) to treat us to tea and she ushered us in. The small cottage was dark. It had one bed, two chairs and a round table, all of which looked as old as the lady, and a kitchen with copper pots and pans and a view of the Kangchenjunga from a back window. She stays alone, her son working abroad. Over cups of a deep brown and very thick concoction, I was talking to her. No, her life is not exactly smooth. The winter in the hills is harsh, especially for a senior citizen, she said. Still, I could not help wondering how will it feel to have the mountain as a tea mate every day.

Sikkim is ethereal in its scenic beauty. We went to the frozen Changu Lake, took photos of fat yaks reluctantly giving a joyride to fatter Bengali tourists, stayed at a nicely-decorated hotel at the picturesque Lachung village in biting cold and saw numerous hill streams, waterfalls, snow-covered mountain roads and rows and rows of snowy fir trees, just like a perfect Christmas picture. The highlight of our trip for me was our visit to the Yumthang valley, situated at an elevation of 11,700 ft. The hotel manager told us that it is “like Switzerland”. I never went to Switzerland, of course, (Yes, have watched Bollywood songs shot there with sweater heroes and flowing saree heroines), but as i stood at a spot surrounded by mountains, with the blazing white of the ice sheets and dull yellow patches of grasslands spread far and wide, and colourful prayer flags fluttering here and there, I thought it will take a lifetime to see the treasures of India itself. 

The stiff muscles of my legs (I suffer from a disease of the Central nervous system) were advising me against risking a walk over the snow, especially after a fall near the lake the previous day. So, I let the rest of the party venture further and busied myself in taking unnecessary selfies.

But after some 15 minutes, didi's kids came back, panting, and said, “there’s a river there, you can’t miss it! We will take you".

Thus began my “guided trek", and slowly but without any major hiccups, I reached the river of many  colours, running through the valley. “Operation Successful”! The kids rejoiced and ran towards the water.

I was suddenly remembering their time as toddlers.

Yumthang Valley

Yumthang II

Yumthang-III