In the world of reels and short-form content, a new wave of videos honoring Bharat’s festivals, especially Chhath Puja, has emerged in the last few days, offering a rare glimpse into a tradition of profound devotion. In the midst of a plethora of run-of-the-mill online content, the soulful Chhath Puja videos set to Chhathi Maiya’s melodies are a breath of fresh air. Scrolling through these reels, with “Pahili Pahil…” by the late Sharda Sinha as the backdrop, I felt an overwhelming connection. As an exiled Kashmiri Pandit longing for an authentic experience of my traditions, this sparked a deeper curiosity in me, leading me to read articles and watch documentaries on the numerous ancient traditions and rituals of the land of Bharat. And I found myself moved to tears.

Years ago, someone tweeted, “I pray, that one day, Chhath Puja is celebrated on Dal Lake in Kashmir.” That wish resonates deeply within me, as we hope not only for Chhath Puja but for all our festivals and traditions to flourish across Bharat, bringing regions together in shared devotion. These rituals, whether observed in North or South India, are united by an enduring sense of faith. Faith that inspires people to stand in holy waters for hours and observe rigorous 36-hour Nirjala Vrat or fasts as an offering of deep gratitude and reverence or undertake long arduous journeys on barefoot just for a glimpse of the deity.

Across Bharat, this spirit of resilience and dedication shines through many other festivals, that also call for intense physical and spiritual commitment. I list out just a few of them here.

Thaipusam: Celebrated by Tamil Hindus, it honors Bhagwan Murugan, with devotees enduring skin piercings, and sometimes walking on hot coal or climbing hills barefoot.

Kanwar Yatra: Shiva devotees, or Kanwariyas, walk barefoot for hundreds of kilometers to bring Ganga water back to their home temples as an offering to Bhagwan Shiva.

Navaratri: Many observe nine days of strict fasting, sometimes consuming only limited foods or abstaining completely, in honor of Maa Durga.

Sabarimala Pilgrimage: Devotees undergo a 41-day penance of celibacy, daily prayers, and a difficult trek to honor Bhagwan Ayyappa.

Kumbh Mela: Every 12 years, millions gather at sacred rivers for ritual baths at dawn, braving massive crowds, cold, or heat in the world’s largest religious gathering.

Amarnath Yatra: One of the holiest pilgrimages for Hindus, where devotees trek steep, snow-covered paths to worship the sacred ice Shivling in the Amarnath Cave, located high in the Himalayas of Jammu and Kashmir. However, the journey today is not as it once was. Due to the ever-present risk of terrorist violence, security around the Yatra has been tightened significantly, and pilgrims are often reminded of potential dangers. Despite these challenges, devotees embark on this arduous journey with faith and courage, showing unwavering devotion even in the face of fear.

I found myself drawn to the profound devotion in these rituals and traditions, inspiring me to learn more about similar festivals from my homeland Kashmir. Festivals that are now scarcely celebrated after the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits in the 1990s.

My grandmother often reminisces about how the Tulmulla Festival in Kashmir was a time of immense devotion, bringing together huge crowds of the faithful. Sadly, the tradition is now largely only a memory that is cherished as part of our lost heritage. Held at the Kheer Bhawani Temple in Tulmulla, Kashmir, this festival holds a special place in the hearts of Kashmiri Pandits, who honor the Maharagnya Bhagwati as their kula-devi, or family deity. She recalls how the atmosphere around the temple would come alive with devotion, as families offered milk, flowers, and the signature kheer to the sacred spring. During this time, the devotees would sleep on the ground without any concern for comforts or conveniences.

One of the most mysterious and deeply spiritual aspects of this tradition is the changing color of the spring’s water, which, devotees believe, reflects the goddess’s mood. A clear or light shade in the water is taken as a blessing, while darker hues are seen as a sign of her displeasure—a belief that has shaped the faith of many generations. My grandmother recalls that during the turbulent times in Kashmir, the waters turned a dark red—a foreboding sign. She believes it was through the goddess’s grace that we were able to escape the Pandit genocide in the valley, preserving our faith despite the challenges. After the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits in the 1990s, the festival lost much of its vibrant local character.

Another profound ritual that has been lost is the Mahaparva of Chandan Shashti. Celebrated each Bhadrapada Krishna Paksha Shashti, this Vrat was observed by women, especially young girls, as a means of invoking divine blessings. My grandmother recounts how generations of women in our family kept this Vrat, observing a strict fast and offering water to Chandra Devta for strength and purity. During Chandra Shashti, devotees remain without food or water, immersing themselves in prayer and bathing in sandalwood water up to 60 times.

It is this devotion, passed down from our ancestors, that forms the backbone of our resilience and identity. Through countless centuries and even invasions, Hindus have remained true to these practices, ensuring that the flame of faith is kept alive. It is now our duty to preserve this heritage, to pass it down as a treasure to future generations. These traditions are not just mundane rituals—they form a part of our identity, they are our connection to the divine, and it is our collective duty to keep them vibrant and thriving.

One day, may we see Chhath Puja celebrated on Dal Lake, and the Tulmulla Yatra in Kashmir revive in its full splendor, so that all regions of Bharat can experience these timeless traditions that unite us.