Childhood Lohri memories.
I am a 3rd generation Punjabi, born to the eldest son of first-generation immigrants and raised in a multi-generational extended family in the heart of the Black County. Our neighbours were predominantly other Punjabi families and growing up, I knew very little, if anything, of the world outside this closed and tight knit Punjabi community. With hindsight, it was almost like being raised in a Punjabi village but in Birmingham!
I lived with my parents, two brothers, Grandparents, and my dad`s brothers and sister. Lohri always felt very special because it was one of the few celebrations that our family celebrated and because I lived with my Grandparents, the celebrations felt more deeply entrenched in my family than in those of my friends.
In our house, my Bibi Ji (Paternal Grandmother) always made sure that she marked and celebrated the day. I remember one year there had been a death in our wider family and so we did not celebrate anything that particular year.
However, when Lohri came around and Bibi still made Saag, I was curious to understand why. Bibi explained to me in Punjabi that she was making saag for Lohri:
“Lohri was to celebrate family and that we should acknowledge and be grateful for all that God had blessed us with.”
At that moment, I felt immense joy for my extended family. Her words anchored me and helped me to feel gratitude for the love that that I had in my life and I momentarily forgot the sadness around me.
I had in my life and I momentarily forgot the sadness around me. Perhaps not surprisingly, to this day, the arrival of Lohri each year, transports me back to those days in Smethwick. To the joy that I felt when another cousin was born. The unspoken anticipation of Lohri represented by the bags and bags of monkey nuts and seasame seed topped sweets also known as “reria”. The brown paper bags filled our kitchen, ready for my Bibi to distribute to our “gwandi” (neighbours) and of course to “charra” (offer as a blessing) at the Gurdwara. Growing up, me and my brothers did not have snacks in our house, because they were viewed as being expensive and so a waste of money. Lohri was one of the few times that we did have snacks and so we would overindulge on nuts and “reria” to our hearts content. Bibi Ji for some reason never told us off, perhaps she was feeling gratitude for her Grandchildren.
Saag
The preparation of Saag is key to the celebration of Lohri. I remember one Lohri, my “Chacha” (Paternal uncle) complaining to my Bibi that he could smell her saag from the top of our road. She laughed at him not understanding why the smell of her boiling greens was so offensive to him. She later sheepishly admitted to him that she had forgotten to close all the doors prior to her starting to cook. I remember Bibi would ask me to pick out my Papa Ji`s home grown Mooli (white radish) from the back garden and whilst out, I could smell the aroma of saag coming from our neighbours kitchens.
This collective cooking represented to me a sense of connection and solidarity with my community. It is only decades later that I am able to articulate these feelings with words.
At my predominantly Punjabi Primary School, my friends and I wondered why our families were suddenly intent on getting the best possible “saro da saag”. My Bibi would hear from one of the neighbours which shop had just received a delivery and she would promptly send my Papa Ji out to buy some. Other years, we had an abundance of home grown Saag and Mooli and if we did not, our neighbours would drop off their saag from either their back gardens or their allotments. With hindsight, I wonder whether my elders were attempting to reconnect to their homelands where Saro da saag was plentiful.
In those days, we didn’t have the electrical utensils that we have today and so making saag could take the whole day. Bibi, would use wooden utensils that she had brought over from the Punjab with her and she took regular breaks because the method was so labour intensive.
Once made, she would share her lovingly made saag with our neighbours in old plastic tubs of margarine (we didn’t have Tupperware in those days either!). My childhood memories are full of watching these tubs being circulated from one home to another and more so around Lohri. Obviously, we all thought that our Bibi`s saag was the best and although Bibi would dismiss our comments, we knew that deep down, she loved the accolade bestowed upon her.
Celebrating Lohri in later years.
Marriage
In the first year of my marriage, these childhood memories began to come alive for me and I had a deep longing to connect with the festival once again now that I was a newly married woman. I realised that my yearning to celebrate Lohri was also, to satisfy my need for nostalgia. Perhaps in part because I had now settled in a city hundreds of miles away from my own family. The family that I had married into did not celebrate Lohri and so my husband and I didn’t have a Lohri celebrated to mark our marriage, yet I yearned to mark the occasion and to start my own traditions. So it was that my husband and I went to the Gurdwara together, for Lohri where we made an offering of nuts and “raria” before then returning home to have mum`s home-made saag and Makki Di Roti (Corn flour roti).
Arrival of our daughter
Later that year, we were blessed with a daughter and we were grateful that she was in our lives. The arrival of January again brought with it a deep urge to connect to Lohri by celebrating the arrival of my first born. My husband and I spoke and whilst we both agreed that we wanted to mark the occasion, this was not a straightforward decision. I could not ignore that the festival was one steeped in outdated patriarchal cultural norms but for me, it was also one seeped in love and gratitude for family. With this dichotomy in mind, I reflected with my husband how we could preserve one without the other.
Initially, I had a strong urge to want to end this outrightly sexist celebration and so I contemplated not celebrating it at all. I remember the sting I felt in my heart when I learned that the family didn’t celebrate Lohri for me when I was born. I remember too, the blasé manner in which this was relayed to me. The adult self is amazed that even as an eight year old, this felt wrong to me. However, the pain of not celebrating also weighed down heavily upon me as I contemplated the loss of a celebration that had held so many memories for me.
It was at this point, that I made a very conscious decision to reclaim Lohri. I feared that if I did not celebrate it, the sentiments, meaning and significance of a potentially beautiful festival would be lost in the psyche of my children which to me represented a loss of an aspect of their cultural heritage. I decided however, that I would celebrate the elements that resonated with me and consciously move away from the patriarchal message that only boys should be celebrated.
With this in mind, we began celebrating Lohri each year with our daughter.
Arrival of our son
Five years later, we were blessed with a son and during that year, we were often asked how we intended on celebrating Lohri. We were taken aback that it was so widely assumed and accepted that we would be having a big celebration. My husband declared however, that we would not be celebrating our son any different to our daughter and that both children would be celebrated in the same manner. Our stance was strong and in union and so we navigated these expectations with ease.
Learning to make saag
Our Lohri festivities continued in the same manner, until it dawned on me that I could not always schedule a trip to Birmingham in time for Lohri. As the children were a little older, I felt I had the time and energy to learn to make my own saag. Once again, the coming of Lohri fuelled me with excitement. This time, because my children would be eating the saag that I so lovingly would make with my own hands. This represented to me a real maternal act of love not only because I was making my children a winter warming dish but also because I was passing down to them an aspect of their culture which had been passed down to me by my mum and Bibi. It has since dawned on me that I am born from a long line of women whose love language is the making and serving of food.
On my next trip down to Birmingham, I asked mum to make me some saag whilst I observed her closely, meticulously writing down the ingredients and method. On the day of Lohri, I made several calls to her with endless questions. Like many Punjabi mothers of her generation, my mum is an “intuitive cook”. She does not measure anything out and when she relays quantities, she does so by using cups. Her instructions lacked detail and I remember some of those calls getting quite heated. However, undeterred, I persevered, and by the time my children arrived home from school, a fresh patila (saucepan) full of saag was waiting for them.
This Lohri revealed itself to be one of my favourites to date. I experienced a new feeling of joy and I wondered whether perhaps I was feeling a little of the joy that I had seen in my Bibi Ji and Mum when they were making saag for their families.
I felt so connected not only to them but also to all the women that had come before me. I wondered how many of the women in my bloodline had done exactly what I was doing; making saag on Lohri for their families with a heart full of gratitude. Earlier that year, I had learned about the importance of our ancestors and their connections to us. I reflected that perhaps this connection was the internal pull towards ensuring that this festival was not forgotten.
Saag as a healthy, winter warming dish.
Whatever the reason behind my motivation, eating Saag amid the winter months has many benefits. In recent years, I have begun to learn about the healing benefits of greens, how they maximise heart health, that they are loaded with anti-oxidants like vitamins A, C, E, and K and form a crucial part of a plant based diet. I used to think that saag was unhealthy because the water that the greens had been boiling in was disposed of. In an attempt to overcome this, I now use the water to mix in the final preparation of the saag. I have also learned that serving greens such as saag with fats further increases the absorption of the vitamins. Perhaps my ancestors knew this, hence why Saag is often served with a knob of butter. I also add an abundance of freshly grinded ginger to build immunity which is so needed in the winter months. For these reasons, Saag is now a firm family tradition in our house during the winter months.
Marking the end of winter days.
My daughter, 10 and son 5 now understand the significance behind Lohri and as a family, we have created our own memories, seeped in love and gratitude for one another. However, the celebration of Lohri extends beyond the birth and wedding of a son. Lohri also marks the end of long winter months and the hopeful anticipation of more light filled, warmer days. As someone who craves sunlight, celebrating the winter solstice is something that is important to me because it enables me to look forward to and celebrate new beginnings as I leave the cold, dark and depressing winter days behind me. As an adult, Lohri now provides me with a natural pause and reflection and connects me to the natural movements of the earth, this to me represents a complex weave of synchronicity to my culture, ancestors and the passing of time.
Gratitude and Lohri
Psychologist, mindset coaches and Therapists encourage making gratitude a conscious practice for optimising mental health and Lohri to me represents a day to practice gratitude with ease. Lohri is also healing those uncelebrated parts of me because by celebrating both my children, I feel like I am contributing to changing the curse of celebrating boys only and in doing so, I am hopefully healing my own immediate blood line. It is for these reasons that the festival of Lohri for me is a healing, soulful and gratitude fuelled one and whilst its celebration has evolved over my lifetime, its essence is just as glorious and uplifting as it was when I was a child. I only hope that I am passing this onto my children.
I fully appreciate and respect that these sentiments may not align for everyone but for those celebrating or beginning to feel curious about celebrating Lohri, I wish you all a very happy Lohri xxxx
This post was originally shared in January 2022.
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