# Hindu Feasts, Fasts and Ceremonies/Chapter 15

15. The Mahasivaratri
IT is the name of a Hindu festival observed in honour of Siva, one of the gods of the Hindu Trinity, This falls generally in the month of Magha and the festival is called the Mahasivaratri as it is observed on _ the night preceding the new moon. Not only the night but the day also preceding the new moon in that month is devoted by the Smarta sect of the Hindus to Siva’s worship. On this day the orthodox Hindu rises early in the morning, bathes and attends most devoutly to his prayers. He attends a temple if there is one near. Fasting, as a general rule, is observed throughout the day and the night. Sitting up in wakefulness throughout the night entirely absorbed in worshipping Siva is considered most meritorious. There are special prayers for each of the four watches (Jamas—three hours’ duration) of the night, and the devotee who goes through these prayers on the night ​sacred to Siva is considered to be working his way up to oneness with Siva after his death.
The Sivaratri is also held sacred for the making of holy ashes by the Smartas. Holy ashes are a daily necessity to this class of Hindus, and those prepared on the day sacred to Siva are considered to be very pure. The process is extremely simple. There are certain days in the year which are held sacred for drying up cow-dung balls, from which holy ashes are made. The balls thus prepared are taken to an open yard of the house on the Sivaratri night and placed in the midst of a large heap of husk or chaff. The master of the house or the household priest, who had been observing a fast and repeating prayers the whole day, sets fire to this heap in the early part of the Sivaratri night. The heap continues in flames throughout the night and is reduced to ashes the next morning. The latter is then collected and preserved as holy ashes for use till the next Sivaratri.
The origin of the sacredness of the Sivaratri is related in the following Puranic legend:—In a forest, unknown to the public, on the Himalaya mountains there once lived a hunter with his ​wife and an only child in a humble cottage. He was in the habit of going out daily in the morning with his bow and arrows and returning home in the evening with some game or other which furnished the food for the whole family. As usual he went out in search of game on a certain morning. It was an unusually hot day and he wandered throughout the forest, but was not able to secure any game. The evening was fast approaching. Darkness had almost set in. Thinking it was no use lingering longer in the dense forest he turned his course towards his cottage with a melancholy countenance, for, what could his wife and child do for their supper that night? This was his sole thought. Sometimes he would stop on his way and say to himself that there was no use in going home without any flesh to cook. He saw a big tank on his way, "Ah! to be sure some animal or other must come to this tank to drink water. I shall hide myself behind some thick bush and wait for the occasion." On second thoughts, he considered it safer to climb a tree to be beyond the reach of any beast of prey. To attract beasts to the side of the tree on which he was resting he ​kept dropping tender leaves from the tree. He was not disappointed in his manoeuvres. During the first watch of the night a doe antelope, after drinking water in the tank, approached the tree to feed at the tempting leaves without any idea of the danger that hung over-head. The hunter glad at heart hastily prepared himself to take aim at the poor beast. The antelope perceived the danger and instead of running away, most piteously addressed the hunter in human voice, "O! Hunter dear! Do not kill me now." The hunter, though startled to hear the animal speak in human voice, said, mustering up his courage: "My charming antelope! I cannot but kill you at once. My wife and child are dying at home from hunger. You must be their food tonight." "Even so, hunter, I have a dear husband and an affectionate child at home. I must take leave of them before I fall down dead by your shaft. For their sake save me for only a few hours. You are not a hard-hearted bachelor. As you feel for your wife and child, surely you must realise what my misery will be if I do not take leave of my lord and child before I lay down my life.” The hunter, ​moved at the piteous words of the beast, thought within himself how hard-hearted he was to resolve to kill a beast so that he may feed on its carcase. But kill he must if he should eke out his livelihood in that forest. The antelope promised to return after taking leave of her husband and her child. He permitted her to do so and she promised to be back in the fourth watch of the night.
The first watch of the night was almost over. Our hero was wide awake. Having lost his first opportunity that night, he waited for another beast to approach his tree. And his heart leapt with joy at the sight of another beast approaching the tree during the second watch. He again prepared himself to aim his shaft at it. He was again astonished when he heard that antelope also begging him in human voice. Again there was a conversation, in the course of which the hunter learnt that the second antelope was the husband of the first one. It also requested the hunter to spare it till the fourth watch of the night, as it wanted to see its wife and child. The hunter gladly granted the request; for, he was sure of carrying away both these beasts at the fourth ​watch. He thought that beasts which argued in such an honest fashion would never prove untrue. During the third watch our hero met a third antelope, which happened to be the child of the first two antelopes. This beast also astonished the hunter by a similar request, which of course was readily granted, to be spared till the fourth watch of the night.
Thus the three watches of the night were spent by the hunter in strict wakefulness. He had not had even a wink of sleep. The tree on which he lodged for the night happened to be the Bilva tree (crateva religiosa) the leaves of which are held to be sacred to Siva; and in dropping the leaves he was unwittingly offering worship to. Siva throughout the night, for the leaves happened to fall on a ruined image of Siva which lay under the branches of that tree. To add to the hunter’s fortune, the night on which all these things took place happened to be a Sivaratri night, though the hunter was ignorant of it. The three watches were over. The hunter was anxiously waiting for the return of the three antelopes as they promised to do. The fourth watch also was running out fast. Still the beasts never came back. The hunter ​had almost set himself down for a fool for having let the animals go in the first instance. The morning twilight had almost appeared. He turned his face towards the east and a most heart-rending sight met his eyes. There he saw in the dusk of the early morning the three honest animals each weeping at the fate of the other two, unmindful of its own. Even the hunter’s hard heart melted away at what he saw. He turned to the other side to hide his tears; but he saw there his wife and child, who after spending the whole night in the forest in his search came running towards him in joy when they saw him. He turned again his eyes towards the east with something in his mind more noble and elevated than hitherto. He had almost resolved to excuse the beasts and give back their lives though they had not returned to him yet. But just as the lord of the day was making his appearance on the horizon, there stood before the hunter a divine vimana which carried away all the six—the three antelopes, the hunter, his wife and child—to the heavens—to the realm of Siva. In connection with this marvellous passing away to heaven of the beasts, the hunter and his family is held ​the popular belief that Mrigasira—the fifth lunar mansion containing three stars in Orion and figured by an antelope’s head, which appear in the heavens is a symbolic representation of this Puranic story.
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