From Cauvery to Ganga

Chapter 29: The Sacred Agony of Chhath

The village was buzzing with frantic energy. Chhath Puja, the most important festival for Bihari families, had arrived. For four days, the entire household revolved around strict rituals, purity, and fasting. And as the newly returned bahu, Sunita was expected to be at the center of it all.

She had no escape.

Day 1: Nahay Khay (Preparation & First Bath)

The day began at 3 AM.

Sunita woke up with a heavy heart. The entire family was already up. Her mother-in-law’s sharp voice rang through the courtyard.

“Bahu! Uth! Nahay Khay ke liye nadi jaana hai. Jaldi taiyar ho!”

Sunita quickly draped a simple but clean yellow saree, the pallu covering her head completely. No makeup, no bindi today, only the thick sindoor and mangalsutra. Her feet were still sore from the journey. She walked barefoot with the other women toward the nearby river.

The pre-dawn air was cold. The mud path was wet with dew. Small stones dug into her soft soles. The group of women chatted loudly, but Sunita remained quiet, pallu low over her face.

At the riverbank, they bathed in the cold water. Sunita shivered violently as she dipped into the river fully clothed. The icy water soaked through her saree, making the thin fabric cling transparently to her heavy breasts, narrow waist, and wide hips. The cold made her nipples harden visibly. She felt completely exposed even though she was surrounded by other women. The wet saree weighed heavily on her body as she offered the first arghya (water offering) to the rising sun.

The hunger had already begun. No food, no water until sunset.

By the time they returned home, Sunita’s body was trembling from cold and weakness. Yet she had to immediately start helping in the kitchen, cleaning, chopping, and preparing thekuas and other offerings while fasting.

Her mother-in-law kept scolding her.

“Zyada dheere mat kaam kar! Bahu ban ke aayi hai toh seekh le!”

Day 2 & 3: Kharna & Fasting

The real suffering began.

Sunita had to observe a strict fast, no food, no water, not even a drop. The entire day she worked in the kitchen preparing offerings for the family while her own stomach growled painfully. The smell of frying thekuas and boiling rice pudding was torture. Her mouth was dry. Her head throbbed. Her body felt weak and dizzy.

Yet she continued, rolling dough, standing for hours near the hot chulha, sweat mixing with the sindoor on her forehead. The tight blouses she wore made her breasts feel even heavier and more painful. The glass bangles felt like weights on her wrists.

In the evenings, she had to go to the river again with the other married women for Sandhya Arghya. Standing waist-deep in the cold river water for nearly two hours, offering prayers to the setting sun. The water current pulled at her wet saree. Her legs went numb from the cold. Mosquitoes bit her exposed arms and neck. The heavy mangalsutra and wet blouse made her upper body feel like lead.

All the women around her chanted loudly. Sunita followed, her soft voice joining the chorus, feeling completely broken inside.

How much more can this body take?

At night, she slept on the hard floor, hungry, thirsty, exhausted, with Pihu curled against her. Ramesh would sometimes hold her gently, but the distance between them remained.

Main Chhath Day - The Ultimate Humiliation

The final day was the hardest.

They woke up at 2 AM. Sunita had not eaten or drunk anything for nearly 36 hours. Her body felt faint. Her lips were cracked. Her head spun.

They walked to the main river ghat in a long procession of women. The entire village had gathered. Drums beat. People chanted. Sunita walked barefoot on the rocky path, pallu covering her head, carrying a large bamboo basket full of offerings on her head. The weight pressed down on her. Her sore feet bled slightly with every step.

At the river, hundreds of women stood waist-deep in the cold water as the sun rose.

Sunita joined them.

The water was freezing. It reached up to her chest. The current pushed against her body, making her struggle to stay upright. Her wet saree clung obscenely to every curve, her heavy breasts clearly outlined, nipples visible through the thin fabric, the shape of her waist and hips on full display for anyone watching from the banks.

She stood there for over three hours, hands raised in prayer, offering arghya to the rising sun, chanting with the crowd. Her legs went completely numb. Her arms burned from holding the position. Hunger and thirst made her vision blur. The cold water caused her entire body to shiver uncontrollably.

Women around her were crying from devotion and pain. Sunita cried too, but for completely different reasons.

Look at me… standing half-naked in a river in front of an entire village… as someone’s wife… fasting like a traditional Bihari woman…

Her mother-in-law watched from the bank, nodding approvingly.

When the sun finally rose fully, Sunita offered the final arghya with trembling hands. The moment it was over, she nearly collapsed. Other women helped her out of the water. Her wet saree clung to her like a second skin. She could feel every eye on her body as she walked back.

Back home, after breaking the fast with simple fruits and thekuas, Sunita sat in a corner, completely drained. Her body was covered in mosquito bites. Her feet were bruised and cut. Her head felt light from dehydration. Every muscle screamed in pain.

Yet the family praised her.

“Bahut accha kiya bahu. Ab agle saal beta ke saath karna.”

Sunita only nodded weakly, adjusting her pallu with shaking hands.

The Chhath Puja was over.

But her one-month sentence as Sunita Devi was still not.

And with every passing day in this village, the old Satyaraj felt further and further away.