The air has grown cooler, the skies clearer, and festive lights have begun to make our streets vibrant. As Dashain settles into memory and the scent of marigolds and oil lamps begins to fill the air, Nepal moves into another festive stretch: Tihar, Chhath, and New Nepal Sambat. Nepal steps into a season of light and reflection, a time when homes glow with diyo, doorways fill with songs of Deusi and Bhailo, and offerings are made in gratitude to gods, rivers, animals, and the cycles that sustain life. These autumn festivals are not merely cultural rituals, but they are ecological and social ceremonies, shaped by the agricultural and natural roots that we always cherish and adore.
In a society deeply rooted in agriculture, these festivals emerged from the harvest calendar itself. These festivals give a way for communities to give thanks to the land, its creatures, and everything that sustains life. Dashain marked the completion of the rice harvest, a celebration of abundance and relief after months of monsoon labor.
Tihar, with its layered rituals, beautifully reflects the interdependence of humans, animals, and society. Tihar, with its many days of celebration, reflects this same spirit of connection. It begins with Kaag Tihar, honoring crows as messengers and symbols of awareness; then Kukur Tihar, appreciating dogs for their loyalty and protection; followed by Gai Tihar, where cows are revered for the sustenance they provide; and Goru Tihar, thanking oxen for their strength in the fields. Mha Puja turns this gratitude inward, reminding each person to honor themselves, while Bhaitika celebrates the love between siblings and the bonds that strengthen families. Each ritual is a meditation on gratitude for the earth, for the creatures that labor alongside us, for our own bodies, and for the networks of love that make society thrive.
Once, our festivals were built on biodegradable materials and born from nature itself. Festivals were simple, yet full of meaning. The soft light of clay diyos with mustard oil flickered in every corner, marigolds and makhamali hung fresh from gardens, and the air smelled of incense made from local herbs. Offerings to Laxmi sat in taparis and botas made from sal leaves, filled with sel roti, grains, fruits, and flowers; all things grown close to home. Bimiro, bhogatey, supari, rice, and new grains weren’t just decorations; they were harvested from the land. Even the smallest details, like rice flour rangoli, natural colors, and handwoven garlands for Tihar decorations, reflected the connection to nature and agriculture. These choices weren’t framed as “eco-friendly” back then, but they simply reflected a way of life that understood respect for nature.
Now, so much of that has changed. Clay diyos have turned into LED lights, fresh flowers that hung doorways into plastic ones, leaf plates into plastic ones, and incense dhoop into chemical sticks. The gentleness of oil lamps and Mangal Dhun has been replaced by firecrackers, and the quiet, earthy beauty of the festival by noise and glitter. Rangoli on floors now reflects industrial chemicals and not the smell of fresh rice flours churned from the fresh harvest. Somewhere along the way, we’ve traded effort for ease, and meaning for convenience.
But the truth is, we don’t need to look far for solutions. The answers are already in our traditions, like in clay, in leaf, in flower, in soil. Returning to the roots is more than just nostalgia, renewal. It’s a reminder that celebrating joyfully and caring for the planet were never meant to be separate.
Yet the wisdom embedded in these festivals still. Chhath Puja, with offerings to the rising and setting sun, embodies ecological mindfulness, teaching us that every life depends on sunlight, water, and fertile soil. Tihar’s layered celebration honors animals, agriculture, and social bonds, teaching that humans are part of a larger web of life. Mha Puja reminds us that care for the self is part of caring for the world, while Bhaitika reinforces the centrality of family, trust, and community in sustaining life. New Nepal Sambat’s emphasis on renewal and social generosity highlights that progress and harmony are intertwined.
For the new generation, these festivals can be more than just tradition; they carry lessons in ethical living and a connection with nature and its cycles. Choosing diyo over LEDs, traditional instrumental songs over firecrackers, local produce over imported goods, and mindful offerings over excess are small yet profound acts of reclaiming meaning. We can decorate our doorways with garlands of mango leaves and marigolds instead of plastic decorations. Instead of using mass-printed images of Laxmi imported from India or China, we can choose hand-drawn paintings made by Nepali chitrakars. This not only keeps the tradition alive in Nepal and supports local artists, but also reduces reliance on imports and helps retain economic value within the country.To celebrate consciously is to honor both heritage and the natural world.
This autumn, as the lights of Tihar glow, as songs of Chhath echo by rivers, and as we step into another Nepal Sambat, let us celebrate by reminding that we belong to the land, the animals, our families, and ourselves. These festivals remind us that renewal about celebration along with remembering that the sacred, the social, and the natural have always been the same.
“May our lights be kind, our songs gentle, and our celebrations mindful for the earth, its creatures, and our communities.”
Happy Tihar, Chhath, and Nepal Sambat 1146 from Eco Sathi Nepal.
