When monsoon rains not yet subsided and a refreshing autumn wind blows through Telangana, another sort of life starts to stir—not only in the fields, but deep within the heart of each home. It's "Bathukamma"(A Festival of Flowers) time, a colourful nine-day flower festival that is not merely a custom; it's a living, pulsating link between people, land, and divine feminine.
At its center stands a conical peak of seasonal blooms, carefully placed in concentric rings. The floral monument, a 'Bathukamma,' or "Mother, come to life," is a lovely offering to Goddess Gauri, an incarnation of the goddess Parvati Maa, representing fertility and life. But to Telangana women, it's something more: a personal and a collective celebration.
Consider, for example, the women from a tiny village to crowded streets of Greater Hyderabad city, engage to this nine day festival. Every street of old city to every community in the Cyber city, even in the middle of the city chaos, the Bathukamma spirit shines brightly. During the last day, "Saddula Bathukamma," there is a presence of collective euphoria in the air. In a narrow, crowded street, a cluster of women, clad in vibrant silk sarees, sit around a giant, ornate Bathukamma. Grandmothers, mothers, and grand-daughters, their fingers smeared with the bright colours of marigold and Gunugu flowers, sing people's songs that have been handed down over generations.
"My mother taught me these songs and her mother taught her," says 65-year-old lady - Kanakavva, smiling. "They are not songs; they are histories of our lives, our forebears, and our connection with the earth."
Agricultural Heritage
Bathukamma festival runs deep in Telangana's agricultural heritage. It comes at a time when the natural wild plains are full of vibrant wildflowers. The flowers employed—Gunugu, Tangedu, and so on—are not merely ornamental; they possess healing values. When the Bathukammas are submerged in local lakes and ponds during the closing of the festival, the flowers enrichen the water, natural manure that will assist in replenishing the ecosystem. It's a tribute to the sense of a culture that recognizes the interconnectedness of humans and nature.
The festival is also a joyous celebration of womanhood and community. It's a time when women of all ages and social classes gather to dance in rhythmic circles around the flower goddesses. They exchange stories, laughter, and the traditional sweet dessert known as "Maleeda," which consists of crushed roti and jaggery. For others, it's a much-loved time to reconnect with family and friends, to experience the sense of belonging that urban life tends to destroy.
In Pochampalli, a village famous for traditional weaving, a little girl named Sahithi Priyadarshini, dressed in her first half-saree, gently puts a Tangedu flower on Bathukamma for her family. For her, the festival is connecting the past and the future. "I've watched my mother and aunts do this all my life," she smiles demurely. "Now I'm included. It feels like I'm helping to keep something very special going."
When the sun goes down, the women take their Bathukammas atop their heads in a big procession to a local water body and gently put them into the water. Beautiful and sad is the vision of thousands of flower mounds floating with the current. It represents a coming back to nature, a wheeling back into life and birth.
In an age that is fast divorcing itself from its earthy origins, Bathukamma is a moving reminder of a humble yet profound truth: our existence, our culture, and our very life are one with the earth. It is a festival that comes alive in the hands of its people, flowering with the communal consciousness of a people who revel in life in all its unalloyed beauty.
