September 7, 2024

Though there are a few major celebrations prior to this, the Monthi Festh is an occasion everybody waits for in the year. This is a very important festivity for the coastal Konkani Christians. After the heavy rains that subside by late August and after the fields and gardens have begun to wear a look of new verdure and fruit, after three months or so of no major festivals except Easter and a few parish feast days, this feast crops up.

While being an integral part of our village identity and culture, the Monthi Festh is unique in its form. Evidence to this fact is that people from our land, scattered in every nook and corner of the world, make it a point to celebrate this feast without fail, as if ordained, at least once a year. There was a common binding thread from this festival that stitched the hearts of Mangalorean Catholic families together. For one and all, the fragrance of their identity is interwoven with the memories of Monthi Festh.

Except from other novenas, the Infant Mary Novena starts nine days before the feast. Special assignments are given to children at this period to offer flowers. For the buds of the flowers for the novena after the morning Mass, one has to gather them a day in advance. A search is conducted at own backyard, in the neighbourhood, and elsewhere; a bowlful of buds are sprinkled with water and allowed to stay overnight. By morning they bloom, ready to become the object of art in a bowl or small basket. The sweet dilemma arises of choosing one special flower - a rose or some other symbolic bloom - to place separately at Mary's feet.

Walking through dewy fields at dawn, tall crops towering above us, along narrow bunds in the gentle darkness, our clothes would be damp by the time we reached the church road. Now lines of generous donors are handing out sweets and stationery as rewards to children attending the novena, though we don't remember getting even one chocolate in those days.

On the feast day, sheaves of grain are blessed at a pre-determined location, and the Infant Mary's image is taken in a long procession with hymns to the church. The small bowl or basket of flowers gathered over the days is not enough for this procession. A large tray, a basket or small bucket has to be used and filled with flowers and this demands searching beyond home and the immediate neighbours. And so, before the feast, we would ask to be excused early from school so that we might go far up in hills and valleys in order to pick wild flowers. There's nothing that gave as much fun as roaming with companions, eating all kinds of wild berries and fruits while picking flowers.

The beauty of the path strewn with colourful petals thrown by so many children during the procession is beyond words. It was heart-breaking to see the same flowers wilted, dried, and crushed by the time we returned after Mass. This poignant sight always tugged at our heartstrings.

In the church, on one side of the altar stands the blessed sheaf of grain, on the other the statue of Infant Mary. The festival Mass is sung with colourful hymns, and one or two guest priests join the celebration. As we go out after Mass, carrying the grain and Sugar Cane stalks distributed by the ward leaders, there's something peculiar. Initially, they would announce that this Sugar Cane was for those who came with flowers for the novena regularly, but later on, it became a practice to distribute it to one and all, adding a unique charm to this feast. Drew a long, plump stalk of Sugar Cane, peeled off the husk and tapping the flower tray cheerfully, we strolled our way back home under the gentle September sun, with our hearts full with an ineffable pleasure.

We place the blessed grain onto the altar at home, pray present family members, remember those far away. With every sip of the milk of tender coconut mixed with grains of the new rice, our voices choke and tears well up in our eyes. These prepared envelopes, enclosing the blessed grains, have to be immediately posted so that the distant family members get the 'novem' as soon as possible.

At Monthi Festh, there are no guests other than neighbours. There is no need for formal invitations. The neighbours roundabout would be in a flurry of activity assisting in the preparation from the previous day. They would bring with them more vegetables they had grown at home. The vegetarian course would extend to seven, nine or eleven varieties. Okra, ridge gourd, cowpeas, chickpeas, hog plums, colocasia leaves and of course the ever present 'vorn' made with coconut milk and rice would find their place on the table. This peculiar tradition exists in the surrounding villages of Barkur and Sasthan and neighbouring parishes that this 'novem jevon' or new meal of Monthi Festh should include fish curry along with all the vegetable dishes, typical to this region.

In our place, besides farming, some people fish for a living, too. I know the Monthi Festh is a festival to thank not only our faith but our surroundings. The environment is the representation of our village, our agriculture, our food, our lands, our orchards, the rivers, and the estuaries. Traditionally, some of us are fishermen, and we catch fish in order to have meals or to sell so that we will earn something for living. Normally, it is during June and July when fishing is not encouraged because these are heavy rain months coupled with a strong wind, but also because this month is considered the breeding season of fish both in the rivers and seas. When the rains subside and August gives way to September, fishermen get a chance to get back to work. Like the farmers have their new harvest, those dependent on fishing have their new catch. That's why, I have heard and I feel it is true, that fish became part of the Monthi Festh 'novem jevon' or new meal.

For us who live by the rivers and seas, fish has always been more within our reach than meat. Hence, our feast dishes, whether for weddings, month's mind, or annual remembrance Masses would be fish curry cooked with coconut milk. Perhaps it is also because of prized fish like Kaane, Shevto, Ghoor and Palu that can grace any banquet table.

Neighbours of all those other religions would join us for the meal on Monthi Festh. As I said, we did not have to extend formal invitations. Neither they nor we found our many faiths different from one another. We also would invariably attend their 'Hostu' (new harvest) and Tulsi Puja festivals. We would join their Ganpati immersion events, ask for 'panchakajjaya' (a sweet preparation), and very much enjoy their lunch. Close and distant neighbours, easily numbering a hundred, would join in the feast. We'd eat sitting in rows, on banana leaves. And these neighbours from other faiths would invariably demand for fish curry along with the various vegetable dishes. "How can we eat at a Konkani Christian home without fish curry?" they'd ask. Even the local Mahar and Koraga tribals would bring along their offerings of baskets and Matts they had prepared. They would take home in return the meal we offered them along with rice and coconut in exchange for these items.

On the eve of Monthi Festh, a few local musicians and at least one brass band troupe would favor the celebration. They were not invited by the church, but they became an intrinsic part of it. Immediately after the Mass, they would undertake an all-day pilgrimage to the Christian homes of the village, armed with a small offering from the parish priest.

The air would reverberate with the jingling of their instruments and the rhythmic beats of the band. Children and grownups from all the surrounding houses, regardless of their faith, would join in to dance to the tread of the lilting tunes. In gratitude, every household used to contribute whatever possible: some coins, a handful of rice, or coconuts. This day-long musical pilgrimage would conclude with a moderate gain for the performers.

There were band members, our immediate neighbours, and after touring the whole village, by the time they would reach our house, it was past midnight. Sometimes when we were already sleeping, they'd wake us up, never leaving without playing a couple of tunes and seeing us dance.

Times have changed, and with them the ways of celebration. But for those who have seen and enjoyed it, Monthi Festh remains that sweet pot of varied experiences. For those born and grown up in this ambiance, these memories tickle in the subconscious to become an inseparable part of life, come what may or wherever they go and whatever they become.

Wherein our local essence seems to disappear in other religious festivals and events, the wisdom of lacing this way of life with a religious event-that too, in celebration of Mother Mary's birthday-is truly commendable. This fest has been intricately woven into the fabric of our hearts and minds. No praise will be enough for such ingenuity that drew a connection between religious observance and the cultural heartbeat of the community.

There were band members, our immediate neighbours, and after touring the whole village, by the time they would reach our house, it was past midnight. Sometimes when we were already sleeping, they'd wake us up, never leaving without playing a couple of tunes and seeing us dance.

Times have changed, and with them the ways of celebration. But for those who have seen and enjoyed it, Monthi Festh remains that sweet pot of varied experiences. For those born and grown up in this ambiance, these memories tickle in the subconscious to become an inseparable part of life, come what may or wherever they go and whatever they become.

Wherein our local essence seems to disappear in other religious festivals and events, the wisdom of lacing this way of life with a religious event-that too, in celebration of Mother Mary's birthday-is truly commendable. This fest has been intricately woven into the fabric of our hearts and minds. No praise will be enough for such ingenuity that drew a connection between religious observance and the cultural heartbeat of the community.