The dividing line between ancient wisdom and avoidable superstition and prejudice depends on how much you know about your own culture and heritage. Very often, for the Anglicised upper crust, anything belonging to the past is reflexively dismissed as hocus-pocus—a hindrance to modernity defined only through a Western paradigm.
One example of this is how little this class, in the thrall of the Gregorian calendar, knows about the Indian calendar, the Panchang, which is not merely a way to measure
The dividing line between ancient wisdom and avoidable superstition and prejudice depends on how much you know about your own culture and heritage. Very often, for the Anglicised upper crust, anything belonging to the past is reflexively dismissed as hocus-pocus—a hindrance to modernity defined only through a Western paradigm.
One example of this is how little this class, in the thrall of the Gregorian calendar, knows about the Indian calendar, the Panchang, which is not merely a way to measure time, but also a system that harmonises nature, culture, and our ecological imperatives.
Unlike the Western bifurcation of the year into four seasons, the Indian calendar traditionally divides the year into six distinct seasons, or Ritus, each corresponding to two lunar months:
Vasanta (Spring) – Chaitra and Vaisakha
Grishma (Summer) – Jyeshtha and Ashadha
Varsha (Monsoon) – Shravana and Bhadrapada
Sharad (Autumn) – Ashwin and Kartika
Hemanta (Pre-winter) – Margashirsha and Pausha
Shishira (Winter) – Magha and Phalguna
Each Ritu brings with it not only changes in temperature and vegetation but also rituals, festivals, food preferences, and ethical practices. Each season recommends a diet that maintains internal equilibrium, taking into account the external environment.
During Grishma Ritu (summer), when the body is prone to dehydration and pitta (heat) aggravation, foods such as buttermilk, water-laden fruits, and cooling herbs like fennel and mint are advised. In contrast, Shishira Ritu (winter) demands heavier, nourishing foods—ghee-laden preparations, sesame, and jaggery—to fortify the body against the cold.
The idea of eating with the seasons—now touted as cutting-edge nutrition science in the West—has been encoded in Indian thought for millennia. Fasting, for instance, is not merely a religious act but a physiological reset aligned with solar and lunar rhythms. The Ekadashi fast every fortnight, or the seasonal Navratri fasts, have, nutritionists now say, verifiable detoxification benefits.
Among the many ritual observances dictated by the Indian calendar is Pitru Paksha or Shraddha—a fortnight generally falling in the month of Bhadrapada—which is traditionally set aside to honour one’s ancestors, not with pomp, but with shraddha—a word that connotes reverence and sincerity. This is also a period during which weddings, housewarmings, or any major auspicious events are avoided. The sensitivity to this tradition among Indians is pervasive, and those who don’t know soon find out—if they want to buy or sell a property, or sign a business contract, during this period.
Across the months, various advisories mark the cultural calendar—not as authoritarian dictates but as inherited guidelines developed through lived experience. For instance, Chaturmasya, the four-month period from Ashadha to Kartika, is when, in the past, wandering monks remained stationary in one place, symbolizing a spiritual inward turn. It is also when many people avoid non-vegetarian food, excessive travel, and weddings. The rains bring a bloom of microbial life, and the digestive fire is low—thus, dietary austerity is advised.
During Sharad (autumn), when water bodies are often contaminated post-monsoon, ancient texts caution against drinking unboiled water and eating leafy vegetables, which may carry worms or parasites. The festival of Makara Sankranti, celebrated in Pausha, marks the sun’s transition into Capricorn, signalling the beginning of Uttarayan— the northward movement of the sun. From this time onwards, it is considered auspicious to initiate major life events, including marriages and pilgrimages.
And yet, this traditional system is largely unknown to the Anglophone elite in India. Why? The answer lies in a complex intersection of colonial legacy, educational policy, and cultural mimicry. The British education system, imposed during colonial rule, was not designed to preserve India’s cultural moorings. It was engineered to produce clerks and administrators—functionaries who could think in English and operate in a Western intellectual framework.
This detachment from the Indian worldview became a badge of modernity. Seasons no longer began with Vasanta, but with ‘March’. The lunar months—Chaitra, Ashwin, Magha—became rural curiosities, not cultural markers. The irony, of course, is that Western institutions now speak of ‘circadian rhythms’, ‘intermittent fasting’, and ‘seasonal eating’ as the latest in health and wellness—while the Indian system, which encapsulated all of this centuries ago, lies buried under the rubble of cultural inferiority.
This is not a call for romanticising the past or pedestalizing superstition—a lot of which needs to be jettisoned—nor for discarding all that modernity has brought. It is, however, a call for cultural literacy—an awakening to the profound knowledge systems embedded in India’s civilizational memory. The Indian calendar, with its seasonal sensibilities, spiritual disciplines, and ecological awareness, is a living document, not a relic.
To be educated in India, in the fullest sense, must mean to be bilingual in knowledge—to know the grammar of Einstein and the Panchang, to understand both Shakespeare and Kalidasa, to honour both the solstices and the Sankrantis.
Only then can we call ourselves truly modern. And truly Indian.
(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat, and former member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). The views expressed are personal)
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