The Night of Mashalas: Budhi Diwali

In the Himalayan village of Satyawali in the Mandi district of Himachal Pradesh, Budhi Diwali is celebrated every third year, on a moonless night of Amavasya. This festival is marked by the celebrations that entail piercing the darkness of night with flaming mashals or wood torches made from Chir Pine, and a unique tradition mock battles. This story describes how the night is brought alive with the sounds of drums and high spirits, symbolizing the victory of light over darkness to bring peace, prosperity, and abundance to the region.

While revelling in the festivities, the young author reflects on some of the practises and their underlying beliefs and questions rituals like animal sacrifice and certain patriarchal traditions.

Read this story in Hindi

Amma (grandma) had woken up, but the sky was still shrouded in darkness. The cleaning of the hearth had already begun. The fire in the chulha (stove) crackled, and the smell of smoke rising from the chimney spread across the air. Sitting by the stove, Amma was quietly brushing her teeth with charcoal made from the ash of the stove. Watching her, it seemed as though someone was chewing a black paan (beetlenut leaves) early in the morning. This black paan however, is considered highly beneficial for one’s teeth.

This December morning felt different from all the others. As soon as I woke up, I heard the rhythmic sound of “thak, thak, thak” echoing through my  village Satyawali. I could see the fruits of the cleaning effort each household had undertaken this past month. Satyawali was sparkling in the early morning light.

Satyawali is a Himalayan mountain village located in Balichowki, in the Siraj region (the snow covered upper reaches) of Mandi district, Himachal Pradesh. Situated 28 kilometres from Balichowki, it is renowned for its natural beauty and peaceful environment.

With my eyes half-closed, I stepped out of the phad of my traditional Kaashtuni architectural stylehouse( made from wood and stones). These Kaashtuni style houses typically have four floors. The topmost floor is the kitchen, known as the baudi. Below the kitchen is a room called hethi vi, which is used as a bedroom. Beneath hethi vi is a room called phad which is the first floor, and below phad is khud on the ground floor, where domestic animals are kept. I noticed my brother was lining up firewood in rows on the khal to dry out under the sun. The khal is an open courtyard located just in front of the main door of the house. In our area, khal is lined with large slate stones, levelled to create a smooth surface. It serves as a kind of an open space where grass and grains are dried, and is used for various domestic purposes.

Today, there was a unique energy among the people of Satyawali. This energy was in celebration of the festival of Budhi Diwali, which the village had been preparing for. Budhi Diwali is a special occasion dedicated to our ancestral deity, Lord Vishnu Narayan. Celebrated in the Siraj region, Budhi Diwali is a major celebration for the people of Himachal. It is observed every third year on an Amavasya night (moonless night) in November or December.

The Mashala (wooden torch): a symbol of traditional celebrations

The origins of this festival can be traced back to the time when it is believed that Lord Ram returned to Ayodhya after his victory over Ravana. To celebrate his return, the people of Ayodhya lit oil lamps to welcome him. However, in the mountainous regions of Himachal, due to challenging geographical conditions and limited means of communication, the news of this joyous event reached almost a month after the celebration in Ayodhya. The mountain communities did not light oil lamps as they were hard to come by. Instead, they expressed their joy by making mashalas – torches or fires made with readily available wood, creating a unique tradition that has continued to this day.

I sat on the shar (wooden railing) in my chaudi (balcony) watching my father, paternal uncle, and brother as they worked together, crafting mashalas (torches) from wood. My uncle was carefully cutting the sun-dried wood into equal-sized pieces. My father gathered these cut pieces and tied them into gatthao (bundles). He combined five bundles to create a single mashala (torch). As they worked, women passing by the khal (courtyard) stopped to encourage them, curious to see which mashala would be the largest and the best. They laughed and joked with each other, speculating which mashala would make the biggest impact during this year’s Diyali (Diwali). The atmosphere was filled with a sense of competition and excitement.

My aunt, Shanta Devi, who lives in Satyawali village, shared, “Back in the 1980s and 1990s, during my childhood, my father would sing the pahadi lamad (folk songs) loudly and perform the traditional dance as he crafted the mashalas. He would walk in circles around the bundles of wood, joining them together into a mashala with great care, almost as if it were a ritual.”

To craft the mashalas, the village folk bring a special type of wood from the forest, sourced from kail or pine trees. The chir pine (Pinus roxburghii), in particular, grows abundantly at altitudes ranging from 600 to 1800 meters. These trees typically reach heights of 30 to 50 meters (98 to 164 feet), and the trunks of older trees can grow as thick as 2 meters (6.5 feet). This wood ignites quickly and burns with bright, furious flames. In the local dialect, it is called shauli or jogni. Jogni has been an integral part of daily life for generations, used for lighting during power outages, cooking, and during religious rituals.

Every khal (courtyard) in the village buzzed with activity as people came together to make the mashalas. To bind the wood tightly, they used tholu (hammers), whose rhythmic “thak, thak” pounding echoed throughout Satyawali, the same noise that had woken me up in the morning. The entire village resonated with the sounds of preparation, as everyone contributed their part to this traditional celebration.

The Persistence of Patriarchal Traditions

In my household, a mashala is made for every male member of the family. It is considered an absolute necessity. So much so that if a male family member is not physically present, a mashala is still made in his name. Even for a new-born boy, a mashala is crafted. However, no mashalas are made for women under any circumstances.

Pyari Devi, a woman from Satyawali, reflected, “When I was a child, I wished they would make a mashala for me too. I wanted to fight with those mashalas just like the men. But now, I have no such desires.”

Even today, during the celebration of Diyali here, no mashalas are made in the name of women or for any woman.

Piru Ram Ji, a wise elder, explained, “Diyali has been celebrated since a time when society was deeply patriarchal. Back then, women’s rights were disregarded, and as a result, they were excluded from this festival of the mashalas. This tradition has continued unchanged to this day.”

Keshav Ram, a 76-year-old resident of the village, said, “Women are considered embodiments of peace, love, happiness, and prosperity. That is why mashalas are not made for them, so they do not participate in the mashalas battles as well.”

When young girls in the village watch their brothers prepare mashalas, they too feel the urge to pick one up. But they are well aware of this tradition that has been followed for generations and are compelled to suppress their thoughts. Amma (grandmother) says that simply watching it happen brings her satisfaction. When she was little, perhaps she too wished to make a mashala. But how did this childhood desire change as she grew up?

Perhaps because she was never allowed to be a part of it in the first place. No mashala was prepared in her name when she was born, nor in the name of her daughters.

Elderly women may appear content today, but they can certainly inspire children to question this tradition.

Vyali, Mashalas Processions, and Ancient Rituals

The day passed, and grandmother began preparing vyali—the evening meal. On this special day, traditional delicacies like kedhi siddu are made for dinner. Siddu is a traditional dish made from wheat flour. Its stuffing consists of mashed potatoes, hemp seeds, and crushed walnuts. It is served with ghee, accompanied by lassi (buttermilk), chutney, milk, and tea.

After dinner, Amma asked me to clean all the utensils thoroughly and to wipe the baudi (kitchen) properly. Once the kitchen was spotless, Amma began preparing modi, a traditional delicacy made from maize. This dish is made using seeds from food crops like wheat and hemp, carefully roasted until they achieve a perfect crunch. The freshly prepared modi was simple yet packed with flavor, its rich nuttiness making it incredibly satisfying. It was a dish that, though humble in preparation, brought immense comfort and warmth, especially in the cold Amavasya (no moon) night of Satyawali.

We were all sitting in the baudi (kitchen), savoring the delicious modi, when suddenly a strange sound came from outside. Everyone’s faces lit up with excitement, and we rushed to the chaudi (wooden balcony). The night was enveloped in darkness, as this festival is celebrated on a moonless night. From the chaudi, I could see my amma (grandma), mata (mother), and chachi (aunt) standing gracefully in the khal (courtyard), dressed in our beautiful traditional attire, the pattu shawls. They had prepared a ceremonial thali adorned with incense, flowers, walnuts, and other offerings, ready to welcome the deity.

A large group of people carrying flaming mashalas was making its way toward our house. The air was alive with the rhythmic beats of dhol and the majestic sound of karnal (traditional instruments), creating an electrifying energy that filled the night. In the centre of this vibrant procession, I noticed a man carrying a kardi (a bamboo basket). The kardi was wrapped in layers of colourful, shimmering fabric. It was no ordinary basket, for it carried the presence of our revered Vishnu Ji, our kul devta (family deity), who had come to join us in the celebration of this ancient festival, Budhi Diwali. Amma, mata, and chachi (aunt) performed the deity’s welcome ritual with deep reverence, offering their prayers and seeking blessings. The man carrying the kardi extended a handful of flowers as a blessing to us.

This torch-bearing procession moves from house to house, spreading its lively energy throughout the village. Accompanying the group is a goat, which is also taken to every home along the way. Passing through each household in Satyawali, this vibrant parade eventually makes its way toward the main temple, where a riveting fight ensues – one that everyone waits for with baited breath.

The Tradition of Animal Sacrifice – A Subject of Contemplation?

It is believed that our deity had come from another place, and when he arrived here, his abode was established where the temple now stands, and it is here that the Diwali festival is celebrated. Inside the main temple, I noticed that the four large villages of our region were divided into two friendly groups, with each group positioned around the temple. People from the other group were waiting for our village group to arrive. Our village group, carrying the deity’s basket, was heading toward the temple, and both groups, with torches lit, were dancing ecstatically in celebration. It felt as if they were eagerly anticipating their meeting with each other.

After some time, when the two groups came closer, they began attacking each other with their burning mashalas. Meanwhile, the person carrying the deity, running through the crowd at an elevation, made his way directly to the temple. It is believed that the deity possesses this person and participates in this sacred festival with his divine presence.

The sound of the drums grew louder. The men in the procession grew loud and together raised a battle cry, “Ho Hando Ho!”

This mock battle of burning mashalas is not meant to harm anyone but to drive away evil forces. As the two groups clashed, the intensity of the mashala fight grew. Despite the fiery chaos, no one gets hurt, as it is believed that the gods themselves participate and protect everyone.

The mashala fight lasted about 45 minutes before  it died down. Grandfather explained that on this day, all evil  is believed to be burnt in the flames. I watched as people threw their torches into a large fire in front of the temple, while some chose to take theirs back home. Gradually, the flames of the mashalas began to fade and a sudden silence filled the air.

This tradition is not driven by anger or malice but symbolizes peace and the triumph of good over evil. On our way back, I saw the sacrificial goat, brought earlier with the deity’s procession, being offered. It is believed that this sacrifice is necessary to ward off evil spirits. Afterward, the deity blessed everyone for their well-being. The sight of the animal sacrifice left me wondering.

Is sacrifice necessary at all?

Can we truly gain peace and happiness after taking the life of another creature?

What about that creature’s peace?

Many such questions lingered in my mind, and I felt the need to discuss them with the children in my village. Perhaps it’s time to rethink the relevance of this tradition.

As we walked back with the villagers, I tried to pick up my uncle’s half-burnt torch. It was still heavy! Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew, and the blazing torch lit up the dark night. That moment touched me, as if each flame wasn’t just driving away evil but also filling our lives with hope and light. I understood the true essence of this festival—it’s not just about destroying evil but also lighting up the goodness within us. This realisation will stay with me forever, like the glow of every flame.