The Moon Who Laughed at Ganesha

It was Ganesha's birthday, and he had been eating all day.

He had gone from house to house, as he does on that day, and at every door people had set out the sweets he loves best. There were modaks and bowls of sweet pudding. Ganesha does not refuse an offering. He ate at the first house and at the second, and he was still eating at the last. In some tellings the feast was a single great banquet laid on by Kubera, the lord of wealth, and Ganesha finished that as well.

By the time he set off for home it was night. The moon was up. Ganesha climbed onto his mouse, his belly as round as a pot, and the little animal started down the road with his enormous rider.

They had not gone far when something long and dark slid across the path.

"A snake!" squeaked the mouse. He jumped sideways in terror, and Ganesha went over his head.

He landed flat on the road. His belly burst open, and the modaks rolled out in every direction.

Ganesha sat up and looked around. Nobody seemed to be there. He gathered the sweets one by one and put them back where they had been. Then he caught the snake that had caused the trouble and tied it round his middle like a belt, to hold everything in.

That was when he heard the laughter.

It came from above. The Moon had watched the whole thing from the sky, the jump, the fall and the rolling sweets, and he was laughing so hard that his light shook.

"What is so funny?" asked Ganesha.

The Moon only laughed louder.

Ganesha lost his temper. He broke off one of his own tusks and flung it straight at the Moon. It struck him full in the face. People say the dark mark you can still see on the moon is the place where it hit.

Then came the curse.

"You shall never be whole again," said Ganesha. "And let nobody look at you on this day, my day. Whoever does shall get a bad name he has not earned."

That is why, on the fourth night of the bright fortnight of Bhadrapada, when Ganesha's festival is kept, many families stay indoors after dark or keep their eyes down. The belief is that a glimpse of the moon that night brings a false accusation.

What if you look by mistake? The tellers have a remedy for that. Listen to the story of the Syamantaka jewel, they say, or tell it to someone else. In that story Krishna himself was accused of stealing a famous gem and of killing the man who wore it. He had to track the jewel through a forest to the cave of Jambavan to clear his name. He did clear it, and hearing how he did so is said to lift the stain from anyone who caught sight of the Chaturthi moon.

The Ganesha Purana has no mouse and no snake in its telling. It begins with a fruit.

Brahma once came to Kailasa and brought Shiva a divine fruit as a gift. Shiva's two sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya, both wanted it, and they began to quarrel.

"Which of them should have it?" Shiva asked Brahma.

"Give it to Kartikeya," said Brahma.

Shiva gave it to Kartikeya. Ganesha was furious. He took on a form so terrible that Brahma himself was frightened.

At that moment Chandra, the Moon, appeared, and he looked at Ganesha and laughed.

Ganesha turned on him. "From now on, whoever looks at you will be ruined."

The Moon was sorry at once, but the words had been spoken. The other gods came to plead for him.

"He is the only light of the night," they said. "If people fear to look at him, no creature will go out after dark. The balance of the world will be lost."

Ganesha listened. "I cannot remove the curse," he said. "But let him stay hidden for only part of each year."

That was not much comfort. The gods went back and told Chandra that he must ask for mercy himself.

So the Moon sat down to austerities. For twelve years he repeated Ganesha's mantra of a single syllable, taking neither food nor water. The Purana gives the hymn of praise that he sang.

At last Ganesha appeared before him, pleased.

"Forgive me," said Chandra.

"I will make it lighter," said Ganesha. "Nobody is to look at you on the fourth day of the bright half of Bhadrapada. On every other night they may."

The Moon's face was still downcast, so Ganesha softened it once more.

"Whoever keeps my vow on that day shall not be touched by the curse at all."

In the Mithila country of north Bihar the same night has a different custom. People there do not hide from the Chaturthi moon. They worship it. The festival is called Chaurchan, a worn-down form of Chauth Chandra, the moon of the fourth.

The story told at the puja is short. Ganesha was wandering on Kailasa with his mouse, and Chandra saw him and laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Ganesha.

"At your strange shape," said the Moon, and he showed off his own fine form.

"You are proud of your looks," said Ganesha. "From today you shall be ugly, and anyone who sees you will carry a false stain. He will be called guilty though he has done nothing."

The Moon's pride broke. He begged to be released, and Ganesha forgave him. But the curse could not be taken back whole. It remained for the one night of Chaturthi.

So on that evening the women of Mithila fast through the day. They clean the courtyard and draw aripan patterns on it with rice paste. Kheer, sweets, fruit and curd are set out on banana leaves. In the evening they turn to the moon, hold up the offerings in their hands and pray to be kept free of false blame.

Mithila also tells how the festival grew popular. In the sixteenth century its king, Hemangad Thakur, was jailed in Delhi over unpaid taxes. In prison he worked out the dates of eclipses for more than a thousand years to come. The emperor Akbar was so impressed that he sent him home with his kingdom free of tax. When he returned, Queen Hemalata said, "Today the moon of Mithila is free of its stain. We will look at it and worship it."