Growing up with parents and grandparents in a Hindu family, celebrating festivals has special meaning. It is not about prayers, bowing to the gods alone. It was also about the grand feast and meeting relatives, cousins.
Mother and Grandmom will be on fast. I think not even having water. They would prepare lots of prasad items, mostly made with ghee, flour, and sugar. I would out be out shopping with my father: fruits, sweets, and flowers.
Sometime in the evening, we will get fresh, wear new clothes and sit in the pooja room. Mom would smear forehead with Chandan and sindur. The central part of Chauthi Chand is a moon god. In the evening, we all gather on our rooftop or aangan, and with fruits and flowers look up and pray to him. There were some years when moon god would play hide and seek with us. Thanks to monsoons and clouds. Every year it would rain. I remember the sadness grandma or mother would have because of it. They would wait for hours hoping that someway, they would get to pray the moon.
After the pooja, the whole family will join the grand feast, that would be the time when mother and grandma would touch salt. Our plates would be full of poori, sabzi, kheer, and sweets. My favorites: aloo poori, daal poori, and spicy sabzi and kheer in the end.
I had a call with my mother and promised her from next year; I will be with her. I think I am missing them all today.
Our country is so unique. We have so many gods in Hinduism that while one part of us celebrates Lord Ganesha today, others celebrate the nature, creator, and powerful moon.
I was out yesterday to bring back some old-time memories in the market.
Sometime I wonder who runs our economy, we humans or gods.