The Hindu New Year on the West Coast.

Come 31 March morning and Goans will celebrate yet another New Year. The traditional one, that follows the ancient Hindu calendar (that means next year, by ‘our’ calendar it’s not likely to be on 31 March but on some other date). The Hindu new year hereabouts is called Gudi Padwa.

No drinking and dancing to celebrate. Instead of flashing fairy-lights and stars, you’ll see, outside most Hindu homes in Goa and its neighbouring states, a pole sticking out of the window with a brightly-coloured silk-cloth-covered tumbler at its free end, decked in flowers.

By the Hindu lunar calendar, the happy day is the first day of the bright phase of the moon. Ie, the day after a new moon of the first month, Chaitra. Technically, therefore, the Gudhi Padva is also the Chaitra Shukla Pratipada.  The following nine days and nights (or Navratra) are also auspicious. So if you want to get married, start a business, invest in a venture, choose one of these nine days.

Neighbouring states celebrate it as Ugadi (Andhra, Karnataka) and in Konkani, it’s also called Sansaar Padwo. I’m told in faraway Kashmir the Pandits call it Navreh  and the Sindhis call it Cheti Chand. In offices around the country, women employees will wear yellow. In Assam, and other states of the north east, people will celebrate Bihu.

Astronomically, the Sun is supposed to be in first point of Aries. This is considered to be the  begining of spring (the Vasant Ritu). People of ancient Egypt knew this and Nowruz , literally "New Day", in Persia is also based on this observation.  Indian Parsis celebrated Nowruz last week. On this day, the sun assumes a position above the point of intersection of the equator and the meridians.Since the Sun follows the solar calendar (naturally) and the Lunar month is not as long, the plus days (or missing days, depending on whether you’re on the lunar or solar side) are adjusted by adding an "Adhik" (an extra) Lunar month every three years to ensure that Gudi Padwa matches the observed seasonal changes.

Gudi Padwa is a low-key harvesting festival, unlike the boisterous Holi or the glamorous Diwali. It marks the end of one agricultural harvest (the end of the Rabi crop) and the beginning of a new one. Those far right-of-centre will tell you that according to the Brahma Purana, this is the day on which Brahma created the world after the deluge and therefore time began to tick from this day forth.

               Back to our bedecked pole-out-the-window. The silk/brocade cloth fluttering over the upside down tumbler at the tip will have for company some sugar crystals, neem leaves, a twig of mango leaves and a garland of red flowers. The inverted tumbler or pot might be of silver or copper or steel (if you’re poor like me), but always metal. The whole contraption has to be noticed by neighbours and passers-by, hence it’s hoisted as high as possible. Some say the gudi symbolises the victory of an ancient King Shalivahana over the Sakas. Whatever, the Gudi is believed to ward off evil, invite prosperity and good luck into the house. So it stands on the right side of the main entrance of the house. The right side symbolizes active state of the soul (I’m not certain of that, need to check that out with some soul-specialist).

Early on Gudi Padwa morning, courtyards in village houses will be swept clean and plastered with fresh cow-dung. In cities, people do some spring cleaning. Women and children work on intricate rangoli designs on their doorsteps, the vibrant colours mirroring the burst of colour associated with spring. Everyone dresses up in new clothes and it is a time for family gatherings. Like all Hindu festivals, this one has more social than religious significance.

I remember, as a child, being woken up early in the morning, bathed and dressed in new clothes, made to taste a bit of bitter neem-leaves’ paste. It was ground with jaggery and tamarind to make it palatable. Neem is supposed to purify the blood and strengthen the body’s immune system against diseases. The ancients prescribed the horridest concoctions for good health. And we lesser humans consumed them without questioning. But with loud protesting whimpers. What was better was the feast that followed: shrikhand (a sweet made of hung curd) and Poori (a fried bread; if you haven’t tasted it, you haven’t lived). Those who missed the Puran Poli (one needs much skill to make this delicate, tissue-like sweet roasted pancake of sorts) at Holi make up for that loss. We Goans also love our Kanangachi Kheer, a sweet made of sweet potato, coconut milk, jaggery, and rice flour.

If there were prayers to be said, I can’t remember any. But I recall that we children had to go to neighbours’ homes and touch the feet of the elders in order to get their blessings. Blessings frequently came in the form of ladoos or barfis and landed on our palms, to be gobbled instantly. More blessings could be sought, and at any time of the day: what generous neighbours we had!

I used to love festivals for the rituals (no two festivals have the same rituals) and the food (each festival has its own ‘special’ foods). The vatlee daal, a sweet and sour salad made of soaked pulses, some scraped fresh coconut, chopped green chillies, and seasoned with mustard seeds, asafoetida and curry leaves… is to die for.

Gudi Padwa was the gateway to the mango season, who’s official launch was a month away, at another festival, the Akshay Tritiya. The hotter the summer, the better the fruit, they say: kokums, jackfruit, melons, cashews, pineapples, and mangoes. Think about them and the flowers of summer, too: the fiery gul-mohrs, the fragrant mogras…

And whist I am relishing a chilled glass of home-made, raw-mango based, saffron-flavoured panha, I wish you: happy new year.