

October brings a particular rhythm to Bihar and Jharkhand. After Durga Puja and Diwali comes the one festival everyone waits for, Chhath Puja. The kharif harvest is done, schools close, women begin preparations weeks in advance, and the trains, impossibly crowded, start bringing people home.
In Sajhauti, a village in Darbhanga district about 140 kilometres northeast of Patna, homecoming feels alive. Set on the banks of the Bagmati River that flows from Nepal’s Himalayas, the village waits for this moment each year. After months of monsoon floods, the river finally settles, once again becoming both lifeline and altar.
Every year, millions of migrants from Bihar journey back, for these four sacred days. Despite special trains, many travel standing, luggage balanced overhead.
Arun Kumar, a taxi driver from Kolkata, laughs and says, “Crowded or not, I’ll come home. For us, it’s the biggest festival. My brother and cousin close their food truck too. Chhath brings us all back home.” For these families, Chhath is a reunion of people, of place, and of memory.
A week before Chhath, the youth of the village can be seen at the bank of the river, scouting places for the ghat. After selection, people start cleaning the stretch, removing plastic, dirt, and weeds, especially water hyacinth, which grows thick at the banks.
Abhishek Kumar, 20, one of many young aspirants in Patna preparing for government exams, has returned to his village for Chhath. “Nearly 300 families celebrate here,” he says. “As many places are swampy, groups of 10 or more people celebrate at one stretch, then followed by others till the end of the bank”, he adds.
All the youth start their role a week ahead, cleaning, then preparing the ghat. With spade, hoe, and sickle, they make paths as the banks are uneven. They make places to sit and then stairs to the river. Decoration is done by youth with locally available flowers and banana plants.
Along the river’s stretch, caste still shapes where families gather. Separate ghats for upper-caste, OBC, and Scheduled Caste communities stand as quiet reminders of barriers that devotion hasn’t yet erased.
Sanjit Kumar of the Bahujan Chetna Manch says, “Chhath is a non-Sanskritized festival. There’s no priest, no strict ritual. Everyone offers to nature in their own way. But if we truly follow its spirit, we must also dissolve the divides that separate us.”
In recent years, villagers like Sunil Kumar have begun organizing joint events before the festival as small steps towards reclaiming that unity.
Chhath Puja spans four days of fasting and worship, beginning with Nahay Khay, a ritual bath and simple meal; followed by Kharna, a day of fasting and preparation. The last two days, Sandhya Arghya and Usha Arghya, are celebrated at the riverbank, where devotees offer prayers to the setting and rising sun.
By the second day, the ghats appear clean and shining. Ponds and other water bodies have been cleaned, and the ghats are prepared. Groups of women can be seen singing folk songs.
Fisherfolk hold their activity near the ghat and help devotees in cleaning and celebrating safely. They always dock one of their boats nearby. Village roads and other pathways are cleaned.
Potter Rameshwar Pandit says, "For us it's the biggest month. I received 1000 orders this month. I fetch mud from the river, it's difficult work." Meanwhile, local artisan Kamlu from the same village prepares baskets from bamboo. He is also seen busy. Overall, local artisans benefit greatly from this festival. That is why Chhath is considered a celebration for all.
Chhath Puja is celebrated at nearby water bodies, ponds, lakes, or even water left over from floods. The ghats remain the heart of the celebration, decorated simply with banana plants and flowers. Yet the shift from open, shared spaces to private ponds reflects a quiet change, from a collective ritual rooted in the community to a more individual one shaped by urban life and convenience.
From the Ghats: The Evening of Sandhya Arghya
On the third day, families gather by the river to offer Sandhya Arghya, prayers to the setting sun. From early morning, preparations begin. Each family carries a basket, and each person a small sup (a handwoven bamboo winnow used to hold offerings) filled with coconuts, thekua (an offering sweet), sugarcane, and pumpkins, all from their own harvest. Everything is handmade, symbolizing gratitude for the earth’s abundance.
At the paithya, the local farmer’s market, families buy fresh produce and bamboo baskets. Krishna Devi, who has led Chhath rituals in her family for 50 years, says, “I teach the younger ones how to prepare the offerings and sing the folklore. It keeps our traditions alive.”
Meanwhile, a group of women sing:
With a bamboo basket finely woven, I carry my offering,
On the banks of Mother Ganga, I offer water to the rising Sun.
O Sun God, accept this humble offering,
On the river's edge, your golden rays rise again.
When the sun dips below the horizon, the singing softens. Families return home, preparing for dawn.
The Dawn Returns: Usha Arghya
On the fourth and final day of Chhath Puja, before sunrise, the village stirs again. Drums beat softly as families walk to the river in the dark, lanterns and diyas lighting their path.
The cold wind from the Bagmati carries the scent of earth and smoke. Offerings are laid out once more sugarcane, coconuts, and thekua as women sing and wait for the first rays of the sun.
Suman Kumari of Sakhi Bihar NGO shares, “Children walking to the river, seeing birds, feeling the breeze, that’s the real learning.” She adds, “Chhath is the most nature-friendly festival, but we must also keep our rivers clean after the celebration.”
As the sun rises, devotees lower their baskets into the water. When the last diya drifts away, the ghats fall silent. Families clean up, fold their mats, and return home. The river that became a temple returns to stillness but its memory lingers, reminding that faith and ecology flow together.
As Chhath draws to a close, the joy continues with Sama-Chakeva. In villages across north Bihar, sisters and girls fill the markets, choosing colourful clay idols of Sama and Chakeva to carry home in baskets. At night, under the open sky and full moon, they sit in circles outside their homes, singing songs of love between brothers and sisters. For many, it’s also a reunion daughters return to their maternal homes, meeting old friends and sharing memories. The nine-day festival ends on the full moon and honours the migratory birds that journey from the Himalayas each winter.
To offer arghya is also to promise care for the water that sustains life. In a world where festivals move indoors, Chhath still unfolds under the open sky, with the river as its witness.