Our own, cozy Krishna Janmashtami

Devaki Krishna Ravalnath is our family deity.
Naturally, Janmashtami is special for all of us in our family.

Janm = birth (Sanskrit) and Ashtami = 8th day.

Like almost all Hindu festivals, Janmashtami symbolizes the Victory of Good over Evil. The young lord, Balkrishna, the eighth avatara (incarnation) of the supreme Lord Vishnu, was born on the ashtami tithi (lunar day) in the month of Bhaadrapaksha according to the Hindu calendar (which tracks the moon phases). The imprisoned Vasudev, father of Krishna, had to carry the child in pouring rain to escape from the evil uncle Kamsa. (Google Vishnu Dashavatara for more.)

"No matter how dry it has been, it has to rain tonight." my late grandmother would repeat each year. And lo and behold, the rains would lash at midnight for sure, if not before that.

The regularity, intensity and consistency with which my father prepares and conducts this ceremony, year after year, has lent greater sanctity and fondness towards this festival to me, than any other.

I make it a point to return from work on time on this special day. Because that's the evening I am certain to meet my sister, uncles, cousins, in-laws, nephews etc. My two sons and 4 nephews are between age 7 and 15 years. And together they can stir a few tsunamis with very little effort.

Our vegan folks at home observe a fast (abstain from onion, garlic, stale food etc.) and the day culminates with a small pooja (prayer ceremony) at home. The boys wear the 'Pudve' (a red, orange or yellow silk robe worn below the waist) and look festive and show their eagerness to assist my father in the rites.

A statue of the Lord is bathed, decorated and maintained centre stage and as we recite the Shahastra naama (thousand names of the Lord), the children offer the Akshatha (rice grains mixed with vermilion) and the Tulsi dala (basil leaves in pairs).

Following that, is the aarti with ghee soaked wicks is lit to perform the fire rituals. The energy and the enthusiasm of the kids in playing the shankh (conch), taal (cymbals), jaganta and chipali makes the dinner worth the wait. My father then calls us for the argee (tender coconut water and milk mix) to the Lord, distributes the teertha (holy water) and then applies the naam made of sandalwood and vermilion paste on our forehead.

The dinner itself is no less of a ritual. I recall vaguely, my parents waking me and my sister up for dinner on Janmashtami evenings because it would get terribly late some time. These days we do things at the city-speed. Purchasing vast varieties of satvik (non-toxic) vegetables starts the previous day. All the vegetables are cooked into a tasty dish we call 'Gajbaje'. It appears to me that an undhiyo is an more oily and more spicy - but certainly not more tasty - variant of this dish.

When possible, we serve dinner on the banana leaf. When I see the kids now, I recall the days when me and my cousins would fight for the big leaf, the big piece of boiled maize in the gajbaje. We would count the different types of vegetable we encountered in our serving. The pleasure to see our sons doing just that cannot be described in words.

Across Mumbai, Janmashtami is celebrated with the Dahi Handi festival where the human pyramid tries to reach the pot of curd (and cash) tied several hundred feet above the ground. Many krishnas land up with broken bones too.

Also the beauty and grandeur of the Janmashtami celebrations at the ISKCON temple is legendary. Most of the religious festivals in India have got hijacked by vested interests now. The fervour and pomp in many public festivals appears hollow and the celebrations cause more noise and pollution rather than invoke a religious sentiment.


That's why I cherish these special moments of our Janmashtami pooja where my dear ones meet, sit together and eat together, at least once every year. Hail our Lord, Shree Krishna.

Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna!
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare!!