Saazo Festival: A Deep Connection with Crops

Saazo is a Kinnauri festival with deep connections with local mountain farming traditions. As the storyteller joins the celebrations filled with rituals, songs, and feasts, she reflects on the meaning and relevance of these customs. Were they shaped by necessity and a way of life or is it just faith? Through conversations with her elders, the storyteller uncovers the relationship between an agrarian tradition and daily life, asking what keeps some customs alive while times change?

Read this story in Hindi

Winter is at its peak. The little gurgling kul (stream) outside the house is now frozen solid, sitting in silence as if it never existed. The cold is so intense that our teeth chatter against each other.  Just a few months ago, we would look at the snow-covered mountains from afar, wishing we could play there. Now we can see that wish turning into reality. On rainy nights, we go to sleep hoping for snowfall, and in the morning our hearts fill with joy as we wake up to a land covered in a soft white blanket.

On a freezing January morning, as the first light of day arrives, the sweet aroma of halwa  wafts in from the kitchen, and the soft prayers echo through my village, Miru. This is Saazo— the first festival of the year, celebrated every 12th and 13th of January, bringing new hopes and happiness. Deeply connected to our lives and traditions, this festival brings fresh energy to Kinnaur, wrapped in winter’s white embrace. 

My beautiful village Miru  is located in a remote area is the Kinnaur district in Himachal Pradesh, about 30 kilometers from the district headquarters, Reckong Peo. Winters here are long and harsh, but Saazo fills life with warmth and hope.

Childhood, Snow, and the Wait for Saazo

Saazo is a collection of countless childhood memories for me. The way I celebrated this festival as a child is the same way it is celebrated today. The wait for Saazo, cleaning the house, sharing joy with family, and making traditional dishes— these were part of the festival then, and they remain the same now. 

Our school used to close for two months each winter because of the heavy snowfall and biting cold.  Back then in January, four to five feet of snow would fall  making it difficult for people to step outside their homes. Getting a long break from school and waiting for Saazo were the biggest joys of our childhood. Whenever it snowed during the holidays, we would make skates out of wood and pipes and play for hours in the snow. Our clothes would get completely soaked and my brother and I would sneak into the panthang (kitchen) to dry our clothes by the stove before our mother caught us..

As Saazo approached, all family members would come together to clean the house. Even the men took part— my father and brother helped with cleaning and washing the floors. But in homes without women, men would do all the work themselves. This made me wonder— why is household work considered a woman’s primary responsibility, but when a man does it, it is called ‘helping’?

The task I found most boring and difficult was washing the panthang (kitchen) floor because most people in Kinnaur use wooden flooring to keep warm. In many Himalayan regions, people prefer wooden houses, as wood is considered a pure and natural material.  The wood comes from the Deodar tree (Cedrus deodara), which we call Lim Bauthang in our Kinnauri language.

Nowadays, stone and cement houses are more common. They may look beautiful, but they feel much colder. That’s why people living in them often suffer from knee, back, leg, and joint pain.

Every Saazo morning, my mother and Aapi would wake up before dawn to prepare halwa and puri, as offering them to the deities is considered auspicious. In Kinnauri culture, this tradition holds great significance. During festivals, people worship the Gram Devta (village deity), who protects and guides the entire village, and the Kim Shu (household deity), who belongs only to a specific home. Each house has its own Kim Shu, and in our home, the deity is called Goonga Kim Shu. The elders in our family believe that these deities protect the entire household.

During the ritual, incense is burned, and small pieces of halwa and puriare thrown three times in the direction of the temple as a way of remembering the Gram Devta. The same method is followed in the panthang (kitchen), where offerings are placed in a corner to worship the household deity. Only after seeking blessings from the deities does the festival truly begin.

The Precious Bond Between Saazo and Crops

My Aapi (grandmother) explained to me, “Saazo is not just the first day of the year, but also a time to express gratitude for the crops that sustain our lives and to seek blessings for them.”

After working hard in the fields all year, every farmer hopes for a good harvest when the time comes. With this wish in mind, on the afternoon of Saazo, a dish called Ku Pole (a type of kodra or millet sweetmeat or jalebi) is prepared along with khichdi, made from three types of lentils— black chickpeas, black gram and kidney beans. The first portion is offered to the deities and only then is it shared with the family.

My Aapi-Tete (grandparents) told me that the tradition of eating khichdi on Saazo began for simple but meaningful reasons. In the past, when people didn’t have much money, they would eat the crops they grew instead of buying rice from the market. But Saazo was special— it was one of the few occasions when people, despite their limited resources, bought rice to cook khichdi to celebrate.  Just as we prepare special dishes for festivals today, in those times, making khichdi was the tradition that has continued to this day.

In October, Zod (wheat), Ticha (naked barley) and Taang (barley) are sown, and they are ready for harvest by May or June. During this month my mother also plants Yaar (Kinnauri peas) in the field in front of our house so she can keep a close watch on the crops. Monkeys from the forests often come into the village in search of food and damage the crops, so we always have to stay alert. By January, when the Saazo festival arrives, these crops are lush and thriving in the fields. This is when we pray for them to grow well in the coming months and remain safe from any harm. As a child, when I visited the village during my summer holidays in June and July, seeing the swaying fields always made me feel as if our prayers during Saazo had been answered.

In the mountains, where farming has been the way of life for generations, Saazo is not just a tradition—it is a symbol of the deep bond between the land and the people.

Are Our Beliefs Rooted in the Soil?

In June, when the crops are ready for harvest, my mother, as always, assigns me the task of picking peas. As I chat with Aapi and listen to traditional songs, I don’t even realize when time passed me by.

I still remember a song Aapi once sang to me—
“Ga palsu chang haye, aang korimang aang yums”
(I am a shepherd’s child, and my actions follows behind me.)
“Aang korimang aang yums haye, aang kismat aang yums”
(My actions follow behind me, and so does my fate.)

This song reflects the life of shepherds— how they spend their days tending to their sheep and goats, far away from their families.

As we picked peas, Aapi would tell me, “A few days before Saazo, our village deity Shri Swarg Raj Charoni Ji travels to the heavenly realm. On the day of Saazo, he returns, bringing back grain, rain, and happiness for the villagers.”

People believe that if a blade of grass is found near the deity’s idol, it means there will be good rainfall that year. On the other hand, if mouse droppings are found between the idols, it signals a bountiful harvest of apricots and chuli (berries). I find it fascinating how our ancestors’ connected prophecies and beliefs to crop success. It shows how deeply Saazo and farming are intertwined and how, once upon a time, agriculture was an inseparable part of daily life.

During Saazo and even in daily life, before eating anything while sitting in the panthang (kitchen), we first offer a small portion of food to the chulha (stove), treating it as a deity.

On the day of the festival, all the women, men, elders, and children of the village gather in their traditional attire. Given Kinnaur’s harsh winters, traditional clothing here is mainly made from sheep and goat wool, known in our language as dohdu. The Kinnauri topi (cap) is an essential part of this attire. Without it, our traditional dress is considered incomplete, as the cap represents our cultural identity.  Together the Kayang, a traditional dance of Kinnaur, is performed where people hold each other’s hands and move rhythmically in slow, coordinated steps. The dance is performed in an age-wise order—elders lead at the front, followed by the middle-aged group, while the youth and children form the last row.

The deity also takes part in this dance. They are placed on a Rothang (a ceremonial chariot), which is carried on the shoulders of two people. It is believed that divine energy resides in the deity’s idols and when they are lifted, they move up and down with gentle jerks, as if they are happily dancing Kayang along with the devotees.

In agriculture, we have no control over the timing of rain or snowfall. The fate of the crops depends entirely on nature’s uncertainties. In such times, worshiping the deities becomes a way to keep our faith alive. It gives us a sense of support, helping us move forward despite the unpredictability.

In the past, farming was not just a means of livelihood but an essential part of traditional life. However, today farming has declined significantly. My mother believes that a key reason for this change is the shift in economic conditions. Earlier, due to a lack of money, people grew different grains in their fields to sustain themselves. But now people have many other ways to earn money. In search of jobs and better opportunities, they are leaving their villages for cities, which has reduced their focus on farming.

Another major reason for the decline in farming is the growing preference for apple cultivation. This has opened new paths for economic growth. In the terraced fields of Kinnaur’s landscape, crops like wheat, maize, and barley were once dominant. But now apples have become the main produce. Apples were grown in Kinnaur between 1700 and 1900 as well, but back then villages did not have roads. Around 1975-76, roads reached Kinnaur’s villages bringing major changes and leading the region toward modernity. Kinnaur’s Royal Apples and Golden Apples are now famous worldwide. However, the traditional crops that were once grown are now cultivated by very few people.

A resident of Reckong Peo says, “In many villages of Kinnaur, apple orchards have become a major source of income and during the harvest season, farmers even hire laborers. Apple farming brings good earnings, allowing many people to become financially stable. Because of this they send their children outside for education. If a family has many brothers, usually one or two stay involved in farming, while the others take up jobs or start businesses. So, it is not that farming has completely disappeared, but people are now exploring other fields as well. The availability of modern opportunities has accelerated this change.”

Where different crops were once traditionally grown to ensure food security, apple orchards have now become more common. Traditional crops are no longer grown in the same quantity as before, which has also affected the diversity of farming. This is why the Saazo festival becomes even more important. It is not just a religious ritual but also a reaffirmation of our deep connection with those few remaining traditional crops.

When I see Api singing folk songs and the villagers performing Kayang, it feels like these festivals and traditions are the last threads keeping us connected to our land. But a question also arises in my mind—decades from now, will we still gather like this and keep our traditions alive, or will they slowly melt away like the winter snow?