Fast, don’t fast, have appetite for love

Growing up, I never saw my mother observe Karva Chauth. In fact, I was blissfully unaware of the gravity of this ‘life-insurance renewal’ for husbands until much later in life! My mother lived a short life, yet my father lived a long one — a direct contradiction to the narrative this fast is supposed to support.

Flashback to 1996 in Karnal, where my husband was stationed. I had returned from Australia for vacation, and every evening, we’d stroll to our favourite shop for samosas and a sweet treat after my husband got home from work. Life was simple. With our four-year-old son in tow, food was a welcome distraction.

One fateful evening — Karva Chauth, as luck would have it — we continued our samosa spree as usual. Walking into the shop, something felt off. Where were all the women? Where were the usual crowds enjoying snacks? I didn’t think much of it, but my husband was mortified. “At least today you could have stayed home,” he said, his voice dripping with embarrassment as we sat in an empty shop. Little did I know, I had inadvertently broken some unspoken rule about samosa consumption on a day dedicated to fasting for one’s husband.

When we got home, our landlady wasted no time. “You didn’t fast?” she scolded me as if I had single-handedly doomed my husband’s longevity. I shrugged it off with a laugh, but deep down, it struck me how a ritual intended to celebrate a wife’s love for her husband had become more of a public performance.

‘Fast for his long life,’ they say, but do they see the irony? In recent years, Karva Chauth has transformed from a humble day of fasting into a marketing blitz. Suddenly, every woman is encouraged to drape herself in extravagant attire, complete with intricate henna designs. And let’s not forget how Bollywood has glamorised Karva Chauth. The moon shines bright and full, wives are adorned like royalty, and husbands gaze at them as if they’ve just received an extra decade of life. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that romanticised spectacle?

But let’s be real. At its core, Karva Chauth was never meant to be about vanity, commerce or reinforcing unequal power dynamics. It originated as a community-building event where women came together in solidarity, sharing stories and supporting one another while taking a break from their daily responsibilities. Ironically, it had the potential to empower women through connection. But somewhere along the way, the commercialisation and social pressures surrounding the festival muddied those waters. We’ve lost sight of the fact that women’s health, well-being and power should be celebrated on par with male counterparts.

Instead of fasting for their husbands’ lives, what if women used this day to remind themselves to take care of their own health? After all, if the goal is long, healthy lives, shouldn’t both partners be equally invested in each other’s well-being?

I’m not suggesting we all toss our thalis and saris aside and boycott Karva Chauth. Traditions evolve, and there’s always room to rethink. What if, instead of fasting, couples committed to spending the day appreciating and supporting each other, acknowledging the shared responsibility of maintaining a healthy and loving relationship? Or perhaps we could try a ‘couple’s fast’! Karva Chauth can still hold meaning, but that should be more inclusive, empowering and reflective of the progress we’ve made toward gender equality.

So, congratulations to all the husbands for their symbolic ‘life insurance renewal’, but let’s not forget that women deserve their own policy too — one that celebrates their independence, strength and equal role in this partnership. If fasting truly ensured longevity, I’d be the first in line, ready to fast my way to immortality! But here I am, and life’s rolling along just fine, thank you very much. Sure, we squabble now and then, but love, care and a healthy dose of humour have their own magic.

As for my mother, who never observed Karva Chauth either, she radiated such love and grace that no fast could ever hope to compete. I like to think she knew the real secret — it’s not about the rituals, but the love you sprinkle into life every day that truly matters.

— The writer is based in Australia