Raja Parba: Celebrating Menstruation
Words by Sadyasnata Pattanaik
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Raja Parba: Celebrating Menstruation by Sadyasnata Pattanaik
A new outfit for each day of the four-day festival. Chandan-pati, aalta, mehendi and make-up. A festival for me and no one else in the family, not even my annoying brother. Mama cooking all my favourite foods and no chores for four whole days. And if it was spent in India, a swing was put up in my grandparent’s veranda, just for me. For an eight-year-old girl, it was paradise.
Growing up, Raja was my favourite festival. As the oldest daughter, I rarely felt spoiled but Raja was my time every year to feel as spoiled as my younger brother. At eight years old, I did not know what the festival was about. My mother used to avoid questions like “Mama, why can’t I go into the puja room?” or “Mama, why can’t I shower for two days?” I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t answer but new clothes and my favourite foods kept my questions at bay.
When I was 10 years old, I finally learned what Raja signified. When Odia girls in the village hit puberty, they must throw away the clothes they first bled in. Take a ritual bath and be confined to a room for three days. Wear kajal so no one can be hurt from their nazar. They must not touch or even look at men until their second ritual bath on the fourth day. They cannot go into the puja room or the kitchen. These rules ease after the first time. In Odisha, unlike other parts of the country, women are only separated from the rest of the family during their first period but the stigma stays. The feeling of impurity never leaves you.
“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of that state,” is the usual response I hear from Desis in America after I say I am from Odisha. Odisha is the eastern state under West Bengal. The one that like their fish just as much as the Bengalis. The one that has the Jagannath Temple, one of the chaar dhams. The one that many consider ‘backwards.’ And yet it is one of the only states that proudly celebrates menstruation for its ability to create life.
Raja, deriving from the Sanskrit rajaswala (‘menstruating woman’) is a four-day celebration in which Mother Earth, Bhoomi Devi, is said to menstruate. On the first day, Pahali Raja, girls will get up with the sun, bathe and dress up in new clothes. Girls imitate the rituals women go through monthly – no cooking, no praying, and plenty of relaxing and eating. This continues through the second and third day, Mithuna Sankranti and Baasi Raja. On the fourth day, Basumati snana, girls will once again, take a purification bath and don new clothes and make-up. Traditionally, women are not even supposed to be barefoot during these four days, giving rise to the popular tradition of swings - now considered a major must-do during these four days. Agricultural practices are also halted to give respect to Bhoomi Devi. In rural parts of Odisha, nightly games, performances and dances are held across villages.
But why the juxtaposition? Why celebrate menstruation while keeping it hush-hush? Why are we told we are being celebrated but that we are too impure to cook meals or enter temples or puja rooms? As children, none of my friends or cousins were told what the festival represented. Some of my adult male relatives still do not know, they only know that it celebrates women. Fathers, uncles and brothers wish us a ‘Happy Raja’ every year but God forbid we bring up menstruation in front of any man. Why such a contrast?
The answer lies in the history of Hinduism. No one knows the exact origin of Raja but it is said to be absorbed into Hinduism from indigenous religions like Sarana sthal during the medieval era. With a high Adivasi population, states like Odisha, West Bengal, and Jharkhand have many Hindu practices that have origins in Adivasi practices. This is also why many states have their own traditions and practices. This is why Hinduism looks different to every single person who claims the religion.
Raja is still one of my favourite festivals of the year. The one time we can proudly celebrate menstruation instead of the shame it usually brings, the feeling of pride and strength that comes with being compared with Bhoomi Devi, and of course, one of the best parts is still the new clothes, the make-up and the food. I still have hope that we can use Raja as a vessel to cure some of the stigma we have towards menstruation in our society with the way my peers and I celebrate this holiday with progeny. Raja is the one festival I look forward to celebrating with my future children; the girls - and the boys. After all, shouldn’t men also celebrate the ability to create life?
Credits
Sadyasnata Pattanaik was born is Odisha and grew up in Columbus, Ohio. She is passionate about history and runs the account @odiasforjustice to spread awareness about Odisha.