The Third Moon Festival - Atla Taddi

The Third Moon Festival - Atla Taddi

Youth obsesses on daydreaming and elders regurgitate nostalgia. That is the common refrain across all the places. Nothing new. But nostalgia always brings out old memories, though imperfect at times and paints classic traditions on mental screen with faded colors. Some time back, I witnessed Kedara Gauri vrata(m) at a temple here and my memory raced backwards to my village.

During one of my middle school days, I was hastily walking home for the lunch break. Halfway on a dusty bisque road with scorching overhead sun, I was suddenly accosted by an anxious teenage girl. “Could you come inside for lunch, please?”

Though I was totally exhausted due to the morning lessons and the long swift walk, I readily agreed to the entreating request. Inside, I had to eat twelve plain dosas (atlu) with chutney, interspersed with gulps of cool water from a stainless steel glass. Later that day, mother praised me for helping the young girl. The girl had prepared a big pile (fifty or hundred) of atlu as part of her nomu, for finding a good-natured husband. 

There is one traditional festival, which I fondly remember from my childhood. It has all the elements – romantic spirit, freedom, tasty dishes, and lots of games. On the previous night, mother instructed my sister and me to wake up in the wee hours. We got up around 3 a.m., and quickly brushed our teeth. Mother gave us sumptuous meal of rice, sesame seed powder, gongura chutney, and freshly made yogurt. Then we went into our backyard for play. Soon we met some neighborhood friends.  I used to enjoy the daily breakfast of rice (chaldi) during my school days. Rice with yogurt and a piece of Avakayi (Andhra mango pickle) was not unusual for breakfast – certainly not out of norm for young growing children then. I believe my sister got her hands and feet decorated with gorinta (home made henna) for the festival. If my sister got gorinta, as her younger brother, I too probably got one or two simple fresco markings on my palms. Perhaps, I got a design of marigold leaf (stencil). Did my classmates tease me for the henna? Probably. But I never cared.

So, off we ran towards our canal bank. We enjoyed the moon's reflection on the waves.  All of us played hide and seek (police and thief) around the big mounds of sand, haystacks, and around coconut trees. In the moonlight, we could see only light shades of color – mostly it was black, white, and shades of grey. We had a long footpath towards the canal waters and all along there were rows of coconut trees on either side. Strange, is it not? I walked and roamed in that coconut garden for six years and never got struck by a falling coconut. Or by a palm fruit. Must be good luck. (Try such probability games here in winter. Imagine driving a car on icy roads without skidding.) We must have played for almost three hours, till past the dawn. After the exhausting games, chases, and story telling, we came home for fresh bath. There was no official holiday for this festival, so we had to prepare quickly and run to the school. Our teachers, all were aware of the sporty festival and they treated us a bit leniently that day.

According to the old mythologies, Parvati (= Gauri = daughter of the snow mountain, Himalaya) suggested this festival for all young girls. Playing in moonlight on full stomach, fasting during the day, and praying to the Goddess Parvati after moonrise, are all part of the festival. Girls invite married ladies and give them ten dosas, betel leaves, and fruits. In return, the married lady guests shower their blessings on young maidens for a long happy married life.

During this festive season, girls do plenty of oscillations on long swings (hung from tall tamarind trees) and mechanical grinding chores with bare hands. Grinding of urad dal, gorinta  and plucking gorinta leaves. During the cool winter months, I used to see swings on tree branches between green rice farms in the coastal Andhra. (Here in US, particularly in summers we see swing sets in suburbs and villages). Grand mothers have many secrets for maintaining slim body and correct posture for young girls. Earlier generations (without a paid membership at gym or Y) utilized simple cost effective tricks for regular exercise. Example: Drawing water from deep wells with bare hands, rope, and bucket (deep wells are common in Rayalaseema towns like Dhone), bringing water from far away pond, playing on swings, and occasional fasting. And long walks to the local temples during festivals. Occasionally we used to lose steel buckets in deep bottomless wells. Retrieving the bucket used to take hours of patience and hard work.

In north India, the equivalent of Atla Taddi (అట్ల తద్ది) is Karava-Chaut. But the latter is aimed more at married women. If a man wants a long healthy happy life, he can certainly meditate or pray to his ishta-devata. But it is more effective, if his wife performs a vrata (nomu) on his behalf. Thus, when Siva drinks the poison (came during the churning of Milk Ocean), nothing happens due to the power of Parvati. Adi Sankara commented to that effect somewhere; it is vividly described in (Potana’s) Srimad-Bhagavatam. 

Many young girls (and boys too) face extreme difficulties in finding a gentle compatible companion for life. The sterile debate about marriage or no-marriage is a separate discussion. For those young girls seeking decent husbands, is there any guidance? I think there are two traditional practices. One is Atla Taddi and the other one – Rukmini Kalyanam(u). Sri Chaganti says just reading ‘Rukmini Kalyanamu’ (part of Bhagavatam, by Vyasa or Potana) will yield remarkable results. Praying to the moon or during moonlit nights is like praying to Gauri. Because, moonlight is just one facet (aspect) of the Mother. Gauri puja, playing under bright moon, eating simple chaldi (Krishna too enjoyed such simple meals) – all these activities were described in detail in Srimad Bhagavatam.

Going back to that festival day in the village – later in the broad day light, we noticed very interesting things in our neighborhood. In the canal waters, there was a tractor-trailer stuck deep in the middle. Who’s done it? Must be our next-door farm boys. The signboard on our physician’s clinic was missing. In its place, we found a barber’s sign. In another street, all the houses got a bunch of curry leaves and a snake gourd. Whose garden got ravaged now? There were probably many more such hilarious adventures – all committed by the village youth gang.

Atla Taddi (= tadiya, third) falls on the third moon in the aswayuja month; this year it comes on October twelfth.  Since the festival is celebrated on the third waning moon, a few days right after full moon, there is plenty of ambient illumination from the sky. The night offers a pleasing sight in the coastal hinterland with farms, coconut trees, banana groves, mango, and jackfruit orchards. Even in Northeast small towns, this time is very pleasant during the starry nights. It coincides with harvest time and Halloween festival. Many big festivals (Diwali, Sankranti) invariably put onerous burden on average families’ budgets. But this simple festival is certainly within the reach for many needy families. While playing, the youth call to each other with the famous line: “atla taddi – aratloy, mudda pappu- mudatloy”. Roughly translated the catchy phrase means, ‘atla taddi six dosas and fistful of dal – three dosas’. Copyright 2022 by the author. Moon Photo from NASA's collection.