The Fast & Food Culture

Every year on Karva Chauth, married women predominantly from Northern India, spend the whole day observing this strict fast which they break only after praying to the moon for their husbands’ long lives. Research conducted by market research firm IMRB shows that 13 per cent Indians or almost 150 million people celebrate Karva Chauth, that’s almost half the entire population of the United States.

Now here’s the thing, while I love my husband and certainly want him to live to a ripe old age, this fast was taking me away from another one of my great loves — Food.

For most Indians, their relationship with food stretches far beyond the gastronomical and well into the cultural and emotional sphere. And I am no different. As a child, I remember waking up to the heady aroma of Indian spices and the clanking of pots coming from the kitchen where my mother would be cooking up a storm. Every day.

I don’t think the ability to cook can be genetically transferred else I’d be blessed but what I lack in culinary skills I make up for with gluttony. Food is my comfort and my strength. I enjoy a good meal when I’m happy, I binge when I’m not. For me, nothing beats that feeling of digging into a buttery aloo-parantha or a hot bowl of chicken and rice.

Indian festivals are almost synonymous with an orgy of food and sweets. Karva Chauth, is a stark exception, and that’s probably why India stands deeply divided over it.

Many feminists label Karva Chauth as patriarchal and unfair to women, while others defend it in the name of tradition. I’m neither a bra-burning feminist nor a typical, traditional Indian woman. Coming from a well educated middle class family in New Delhi, I defied tradition to become a journalist, worked in another city, became completely independent.

And yet , last year I got married and I gave all that up to move halfway across the globe to be with my husband. Though we often joke that living in Jersey City, I couldn’t possibly be missing home that much but Karva Chauth kicks off the festival season and strangely, I felt a little homesick.

Through the day I chatted with my mother, my mother-in-law and aunts in India over the phone. They all gave me advice on how to fast and how not to exert myself. The calls left me wondering how different it would be, had I been back home.

Being away from home, in an environment that I’m still not completely accustomed to, I perhaps felt some pressure to do it right. This was not just a fast for my husband’s long life, but it was a way for me to connect with my traditions and my roots. Earlier, I had often thought why Indians abroad went overboard with the festivities, and here I was doing the same.

The husband added to my misery. Here I was, a fresh off the boat confused desi, trying to reconnect with my culture and he decides to act all chivalrous and fast as well. I know getting married means doing a lot of things together, but the guilt of him staying hungry was the last thing I wanted to add to the huge spectrum of emotions I was dealing with. A fight ensued, and I eventually gave in.

Tired, I picked up my phone and sent an SOS to my friend Ritambhara or Tamba, who was in India and fasting too. She is my go to person for all life’s crises and I hoped she’d tell me something that’ll help me get through this. Tamba loves food as much as I do, and I had clearly forgotten about the time difference which meant her ordeal was over. I suppose I deserved it when I got this reply.

Thanks Tamba!

I picked up my coat and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. My locality has a lot of Indian families. Even though it was middle of the day, I noticed an unusually high number of Indian men and women walking around, most with shopping bags in tow.

That’s when it struck me. Married women back home, buy new clothes and jewelry, put henna on their hands and get dolled up. With busy schedules otherwise, it seemed that a lot of women and their husbands had either taken the day off or come back early from work to shop and celebrate Karva Chauth.

Glorified in larger than life movies that influence aspirations, Karva Chauth has traditionally driven up sales for apparel and jewelry retailers in India. From the looks of it, Jersey City retailers, too, had joined that party.

I headed home to cook and prepare for the ceremony that had to accompany breaking the fast. That meant cooking on an absolutely empty stomach even as the smell of spices sent my gastric juices into an overdrive. The husband came home early to help with the cooking and as my hunger grew out of control, I wished for this to be over soon.

By the time we were done cooking, dusk had fallen. Moonrise was expected at 8:53 PM. After completing some rituals at home, the husband and I went looking for the spot in the neighborhood to catch a glimpse of the moon. As we walked around, we saw many couples in the same pursuit. The minute I saw it, I felt like one of those cartoon coyotes wanting to howl at the moon out of sheer joy.

It had been almost 22 hours since my last meal. I had survived an entire day, without a drop of water touching my lips and without a morsel of food down my throat. After all that when I finally sat down to eat, that first bite sure did taste like heaven, not because I hadn’t eaten all day but because I felt happy about having done this.

It was tough day, but would I do this next year? Absolutely!