This year, on Sabitri Brata, my teenage daughter asked me why I was even observing a festival which seemed regressive and unequal. Here was a ritual where a wife fasts and prays for her husband’s well-being and long life, adorning herself with sindoor, alta, jewellery, new bangles, and a saree to mark her married status.
“Does Papa even know that you are doing this for him,” she further questioned about my husband who is out of station and completely oblivious about the day’s significance. Before I could respond, she followed up with another query: “By the way, do we have any festival where the husband prays for his wife’s long life and well-being?”
I try giving her my take on the festival. “Look, I fast and pray for Papa’s well-being more as a way of marking the festival and expressing love rather than as a wife seeking validation through fasting for her husband’s longevity.”
She looks hardly convinced and I try harder. “I don’t even dress up like a stereotypical married woman on this day and it’s like any other day for me. Moreover, Aai and Jeje Ma (Her maternal and paternal grandmothers, my mother and mother-in-law respectively) feel happy when I observe it even minimally,” I justify.
But she is ready with the next retort, “Oh! That’s the reason you take the gift money from Aai to buy new clothes, fruits and other paraphernalia for the festival.” I sigh, but don’t deny the age-old practice of parents and families of married women gifting money, new clothes for the festival – another regressive custom which has been continuing.
“But these days, even husbands are also gifting clothes, jewellery to their wives on the occasion, and some even keep fast along with their wives in solidarity,” I quip.
“Yeah, that’s largely because even the husbands want to continue the tradition. And how can anyone miss the way the market cashes in on it? Every year there are Sabitri special collections, discounts, and advertisements everywhere before the festival,” she says, rolling up her eyes.
Although our conversation soon drifted to other topics, my mind continued to wrestle with a nagging sense of discomfort. I have often found myself conflicted about Sabitri Brata and similar festivals with patriarchal overtones observed across India such as – Vat Savitri Vrat, Karva Chauth, Teej, and Varalakshmi Vratam – where women fast and pray for the health, well-being, and longevity of their husbands. Yet, despite these lingering doubts, I have continued to observe Sabitri Brata year after year. The only consolation has been that I have observed it on my own terms and in a manner that feels meaningful to me.
But what does it say about the festival’s custom, when some women literally worship their husband, touch their feet and even wash their feet and drink the same water! Some also record and post these practices on social media. I was flabbergasted and nauseous seeing one of the leading and popular actresses of Odia cinema, followed by thousands of young people, doing exactly this. Not once, but repeatedly since her marriage. Judging by the comments on the post, apart from a handful of young women who found the practice objectionable, most people simply congratulated and wished her a happy married life.
Even a prominent woman MP from the Capital City did not want to be left behind. The otherwise firebrand and outspoken politician shared demure videos of her Sabitri celebrations on social media, complete with a saree-covered head, bangle-adorned hands, and a prominent streak of sindoor. Such displays of celebration and public projection were not confined to celebrities alone. The social media feeds of numerous friends and acquaintances were similarly flooded with related content.
One could argue that there is nothing wrong in celebrating a festival, following ‘traditions’ and sharing them publicly. Certainly, observing – or choosing not to observe – a festival dedicated to a husband’s well-being does not automatically make someone conservative or liberal. Yet, I cannot help but wonder whether this is the image of womanhood and the accompanying gender norms that we want to project, endorse, emulate, and celebrate. Celebrities and public figures may have the privilege of separating their private choices from their public influence. But what about the countless women and girls who watch, absorb, and internalise these messages?
I have seen women in deeply unhappy and even abusive marriages observe Sabitri Brata and Karva Chauth with great enthusiasm and devotion. The latest National Family Health Survey (NFHS-6) shows that 22.3% of ever-married women in India have experienced physical, sexual, or emotional violence by their husbands. Although this figure has declined from 29.2% in NFHS-5, the apparent progress masks a more complex reality. While fewer women may be reporting violence, the underlying structures of gender inequality that often enable such abuse remain firmly entrenched, underscoring the continuing imbalance of power within households and intimate relationships. And yet, despite these realities, women continue to fast and pray for their husbands.
Moreover, as with many Indian festivals, women often stretch themselves to meet not only the demands of the festival — fasting, preparing for the puja, and offering prayers — but also their regular household responsibilities, including cooking, cleaning, and caregiving. Even while fasting, many women continue to serve meals to their husbands, children, and other family members.
These festivals, rooted in centuries-old traditions, have complex origins and hold different meanings for different individuals. Many women who observe these fasts do not see them as acts of subservience, but rather as voluntary and meaningful expressions of devotion and commitment. Some contemporary women contend that observing such traditions does not necessarily diminish their sense of agency and that it’s their choice to do so. I agree, for many women, these occasions also serve as opportunities for sisterhood, bringing women together to celebrate. Yet, unfortunately, such solidarity is often mobilised to sustain and celebrate these rituals unquestioningly, rather than to challenge the gender inequalities embedded within them.
At the same time, cultural obligations shaped by family expectations, social pressure, and fear of judgement often become forms of social control that many women find difficult to resist. Most of these rituals emerged within a social order in which a woman’s identity, status, and security were closely tied to her husband and marital family.
One cannot ignore that, at their core, festivals such as Sabitri Brata and Karva Chauth are built around a singular premise: a wife fasting and praying for the long life and well-being of her husband. There is no equivalent expectation placed on men reflecting that a woman’s devotion is publicly celebrated while a husband’s devotion is largely presumed. And even when rituals may have acquired new meanings over time, their foundational logic remains rooted in unequal gender roles.
Persistent domestic violence, unequal distribution of unpaid care work, and limited decision-making power is a reality for many married women even today revealing the gender inequality deeply embedded in Indian marriages. So, customs that celebrate one-sided devotion deserve thoughtful scrutiny rather than unquestioning reverence.
Some traditions endure not because they remain frozen in time, but because they acknowledge the inherent inequalities and adapt to changing social realities. The real question, therefore, is not whether festivals such as Sabitri Brata should continue, but whether they can evolve into celebrations of mutual care, equal partnership, and shared responsibility. Without such reflection, the question of whether tradition is truly a matter of personal choice or a form of patriarchal obligation will continue to linger.
So, will I expect my daughter to observe Sabitri Brata when she grows up and gets married, just as my mother expected me to?
As a feminist mother, my answer would once have been an unequivocal no. But perhaps, I will allow her to reflect on it, grapple with its contradictions, and ultimately decide for herself.
(Views expressed by the columnist are personal and does not reflect the opinion or policy of the news portal)
