( Ram Navami & Durga Puja Through the Eyes of My Childhood )

In those days, the morning didn’t begin with an alarm clock-

It began with bells.

Soft at first… then rising… then echoing through the narrow lanes of Bahraich.

“Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram…”

The chant floated in the air like mist. The sunlight slipped through the old wooden windows, touching the framed pictures of gods on the wall. Incense smoke curled upward, slow and sacred.

And somewhere in the middle of that quiet divinity…
My mother sat, eyes closed, fasting… praying… glowing.

A Mother’s Fast — Beyond Hunger, Beyond Words

My mother observed the nine-day fast of Navratri every year.

But her fasting wasn’t just about food.
It was about faith carved into discipline.

She would wake up before dawn, bathe, clean the house, light the diya, and begin her prayers. The entire house would transform into a temple.

And in that stillness, I often heard the gentle recitation—

“मंगल भवन अमंगल हारी।
द्रवहु सो दसरथ अजिर बिहारी॥”

There was something deeply comforting about these lines.
As if every worry… every unseen fear… was being quietly absorbed by the divine.

Yet, as a child, one thing troubled me.

She never cooked anything for herself.

While the rest of us ate normally, she survived on fruits, water, and devotion.

Her plate always felt… incomplete.
And unknowingly, so did my heart.

Binnu — A Friend Who Turned Fasting into Love

One afternoon, my eldest sibling, Binnu, came over.

He watched mommy silently. Observed her rituals. Saw her eat almost nothing.

He didn’t say much at first.

Then suddenly, with childlike firmness, he declared:

“If Mommy is not eating, I will also fast.”

There was no drama in his voice.
No attempt to impress.

Just pure, innocent empathy.

My mother smiled at first, thinking it was a joke.
But when he refused food the entire day…

Something changed.

That evening, she stepped into the kitchen—not for herself, but for us.

She made falahari food—simple vrat dishes.

And that moment…It
was not about food anymore.

It was about how a child’s love compelled a mother to care for herself.

Bahraich — Where Festivals Were Not Celebrated, They Were Lived

( Procession of Ram Navami)

Bahraich, my childhood playing ground, wasn’t a big city.

It was, in those times, like a hill station, with a small market and a close-knit society.

But during Navratri and Ram Navami,
it felt like the centre of the universe.

No extravagant lighting.
No massive stages.

Yet everything felt… complete.

Morning air carried:

🔔 Temple bells
🌸 Fresh marigolds
🕉️ Sacred chants

We would walk barefoot to nearby temples.

There were crowds, yes.
But not chaos.

There was patience.
There was devotion.

In small temples, you didn’t need to push your way to RAM ji.

RAM ji felt closer.

Temple Darshan — Where Silence Spoke

Inside the Sangharan Devi temple, the idols of Goddess Durga were decorated with flowers and simple ornaments.

Divinity was everywhere.

No artificial glamour.
Just faith and fragrance.

The pandit ji’s voice would echo softly. Someone would ring the bell. Someone would close their eyes in surrender.

And for a moment…

You forgot everything else.

You drowned in serenity, just tossing upon the sea of tranquillity.

Mantras That Became the Air We Breathed

Verses from Ramcharitmanas and Durga Saptashati weren’t just recited.

They lived in the air.

“सिया राम मय सब जग जानी।
करउँ प्रनाम जोरि जुग पानी॥”

And in the evenings—

“या देवी सर्वभूतेषु शक्ति रूपेण संस्थिता।
नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः॥”

Even as children, we didn’t understand every word.

But we felt everything.

Falahari Food — A Feast Without Indulgence

(Khichdi of Saboodaana)

Those vrat meals…

Sabudana khichdi.
Kuttu puri.
Aloo sabzi.
Singhara halwa.

We weren’t fasting.

Still, we waited eagerly for that food.

Because it wasn’t just food.

It was emotion cooked in devotion.

Once, Binnu ate so much that he complained of a stomach ache…
and still whispered—

“Mommy, a little more… it’s too good.”

My mother laughed.

And in that laughter,
There was warmth… fulfilment… and a silent blessing.

Evening Aarti — When Time Stood Still

Evenings were magical.

The temples glowed with diyas.
The sky turned saffron.

Aarti began.

The rhythmic clanging of bells, the rising chorus of voices, the flickering flames—

Everything merged into one powerful experience.

For those few minutes…

Time stopped.

And faith flowed.

---

Ashtami — When the Goddess Came Home

4

Then came Ashtami.

Little girls were invited home—
treated as embodiments of Goddess Durga.

Their feet were washed.
They were seated with respect.

Served halwa, puri, and chana.

And as they giggled, shy and joyful…

It truly felt—

Maa Durga had arrived.

Binnu and I would sit nearby, sometimes helping, sometimes just watching.

Absorbing something we didn’t yet understand…

But would remember forever.

---

The Final Day — Havan, Fire, and Inner Cleansing

4

And then came the final day.

The havan.

A square kund was placed carefully.
Mango wood crackled softly.
Ghee poured with reverence.

“Swaha… Swaha…”

Each offering carried a prayer.

The smoke rose slowly, touching the ceiling… then disappearing into something unseen.

My mother sat with folded hands.
Eyes closed. Face calm.

And for the first time, I realised—

This wasn’t just a ritual.

It was a way of saying:

“Burn what is impure within me…
and leave only light.”

---

The Day I Tried to Fast

One year, inspired by Binnu, I decided to fast too.

By afternoon, I was restless.
By evening, I was miserable.

And by night, I secretly ate biscuits in the kitchen.

My mother noticed.

She didn’t scold me.

She just smiled and said—

“व्रत भूखे रहने का नहीं, मन को शांत रखने का होता है।”

That day, I learned—

Faith is not about endurance.
It is about understanding.

---

Closing Reflection — A Memory That Still Breathes

Today, cities are bigger.
Festivals are louder.

But something is missing.

That simplicity.
That intimacy.
That quiet connection.

My mother’s fast.
Binnu’s innocent protest.
The bells of Bahraich.
The glow of diyas.

They are no longer scenes of my life.

They are…

my life itself.

---

The Prayer

“या देवी सर्वभूतेषु मातृरूपेण संस्थिता।
नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः॥”

O Mother,

If you must bless us—
don’t give me wealth, or success, or fame.

Just give me back…

Those mornings.
That innocence.
That faith.

Where you were not just in temples…

You were in our home.
In our food.
In our hearts.

---