Chhath Puja Festival Pulls You to Bihar’s Villages

Chhath Puja Festivals Pulls You to Bihar’s Villages

Chhath Puja isn’t just a festival—it’s a feeling, a tug at the heart that every person from Bihar or eastern Uttar Pradesh carries deep inside. Growing up in a family that moved across India for my father’s Air Force job, I felt this pull strongest in our village in Uttar Pradesh, where Chhath brought us back to our roots. For Westerners curious about India’s soul, Chhath Puja is a beautiful journey into faith, family, and the simple joys of village life—a celebration that might remind you of a warm Thanksgiving or a cozy Christmas, but with a unique Indian spirit.

A Song That Calls You Home

Picture this: you’re far from home, maybe in a bustling city, when the soulful voice of Sharda Sinha singing a Chhath song floats through the air. Suddenly, you’re a kid again, standing by a village pond, surrounded by flickering oil lamps. For anyone from Bihar or eastern Uttar Pradesh, Chhath songs are like a time machine, carrying you back to muddy paths, family chatter, and the glow of a festival that lights up the night. In the old days, before electricity reached every corner, people lit countless clay lamps along roads and riverbanks during Chhath and Diwali. Those tiny flames danced brighter than today’s electric bulbs, and even now, with all our modern lights, we miss that soft, magical glow.

A Festival Bigger Than Life

Chhath isn’t just a festival—it’s a mahaparv, a grand celebration that fills hearts with devotion and strength. Held in late October or early November, it honors Surya, the Sun God, and Chhathi Maiya, a goddess believed to protect families. People fast for days, some without even a sip of water, yet they sing and dance their way to village ponds to offer arghya (prayers) to the rising and setting sun. It’s a sight that might amaze Westerners—entire communities gathering at dawn and dusk, baskets filled with bananas, apples, and thekua (sweet wheat cakes), all to thank nature for life itself. The faith behind Chhath gives people the energy to celebrate with joy, no matter how tough the fast.

A Pull Back to the Village

In today’s world, many young people from Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh leave their villages for jobs in cities like Delhi or Mumbai. They chase dreams but often miss festivals like Chhath because offices rarely give time off for both Diwali and Chhath, or Holi and Dussehra. It’s a hard choice, staying in the city while your heart longs for home. Chhath is more than a ritual—it’s an excuse to return to your village, to eat kaddu bhaat (pumpkin curry with rice) with family, to light firecrackers saved from Diwali, and to patch up old arguments with aunts, uncles, and cousins by the pond’s edge.

You can buy fruits, flowers, and baskets in the city, but you can’t find the clay pots or village ponds that make Chhath special. It’s a festival that pulls you back to your roots, like a call you can’t ignore. For Western readers, think of it like heading home for the holidays to share a meal with loved ones—except Chhath is steeped in the earthy magic of India’s villages.

A Festival of Togetherness

Chhath is an excuse to come together. It’s saving firecrackers from Diwali to burst them joyfully during Chhath. It’s uncles and aunts laughing by the water, forgetting old grudges. It’s offering prayers to the sun with your whole family, standing knee-deep in a pond as the sky turns golden. If you mention Chhath to someone from Bihar or eastern Uttar Pradesh, their eyes will light up. They’ll talk about childhood memories—running to the pond, helping make thekua, or watching lamps flicker under the stars. It’s a festival that binds you to your past and your people.

Why Chhath Speaks to Everyone

For readers in the West, Chhath Puja is a chance to see India’s heart—a place where faith, family, and nature intertwine. It’s like a harvest festival, but with a spiritual glow that feels universal. Imagine standing by a quiet pond at sunrise, surrounded by singing families, feeling connected to something bigger. You don’t need to be Indian to understand that kind of warmth. Try listening to a Sharda Sinha Chhath song on YouTube, or picture yourself in a Bihar village, a clay lamp in your hand. If you visit India during Chhath, join a family at a riverbank—you’ll be welcomed like one of their own.

Chhath isn’t just a festival; it’s a reason to go home, to feel alive, to celebrate life. So, book that ticket, pack your bags, and head to your village—or at least to a place where you feel whole. Jai Chhathi Maiya!