When the plains of India sink back into routine after the glitter of Diwali fades, the mountains of Uttarakhand awaken again, eleven days later, with laughter, torches, and song. It is Igas Bagwal, the “Budhi Diwali” of the hills, celebrated on Kartik Shukla Ekadashi. For the people of Garhwal and Kumaon, this is not merely a deferred festival; it is their own heartbeat of light, pride, and remembrance.
The Legends Behind Igas
The name itself holds meaning. Igas stems from Ekadashi, the eleventh day of the waxing lunar fortnight, and Bagwal denotes the playing or exchange of lights, an echo of Diwali.
According to one deeply held belief, when Bhagwan Ram returned victorious to Ayodhya after vanquishing Ravan, the joyous news took eleven days to reach the remote Himalayan valleys. When word finally arrived, the hill people lit their own lamps in celebration, and thus, Budhi Diwali or “the old Diwali” was born.
Yet, another story finds its roots in history rather than ancient history. Around the 17th century, the valiant Madhav Singh Bhandari, a revered general of the Garhwal kingdom, led a campaign into Tibet during Diwali. News of his triumph reached home eleven days later, prompting jubilant celebrations across the hills. What began as the commemoration of a commander’s victory transformed into a symbol of bravery, unity, and divine gratitude.
In both tales, one revered, the other martial, the essence is the same: light arrives late, but it arrives with honour.
The Rituals of Flame and Faith
As dusk descends on the terraced villages of Tehri, Chamoli, Pauri, Almora, and Bageshwar, a hush falls before the flames rise. Then, the unmistakable crackle of pine torches, bhailo, fills the crisp mountain air. Villagers whirl bundles of resinous wood tied to ropes, creating spinning circles of light against the starlit sky.
It is a moment both primal and poetic, when the flame becomes dance, and the dance becomes prayer. The ritual signifies victory of light over darkness, but it also honours Agni, the eternal witness of all human celebrations.
Households prepare festive meals, puri, urad dal, arsa, pua, and sel roti, offered first to the deities and then shared among neighbours. Cattle are decorated and worshipped, acknowledging their contribution to agrarian life. Women sing traditional songs, bhailo geet and mangal geet , narrating episodes of valour and divine grace, while children run about collecting sweets and coins from homes, echoing the trick-or-treat joy of global festivals.
A Festival of Identity
Igas Bagwal stands as one of the last surviving links between ritual and regional identity in the central Himalayas. In an age of digital sameness, it reminds the people of Uttarakhand of who they are, pahadis, children of peaks and rivers, whose celebrations follow not metropolitan clocks but mountain rhythms.
Where most Indian festivals have migrated indoors, Igas remains defiantly outdoors, in courtyards, fields, and village paths. It is participatory, communal, and organic. The bonfires are built together, the food shared freely, and the songs sung in chorus. It’s not about spectacle but belonging.
In this way, Igas reflects what sociologists call cultural continuity through participation, traditions that survive not through instruction but through joy.
Between Garhwal and Kumaon: Variations of the Flame
Though united in spirit, Igas carries subtle differences across Uttarakhand’s two cultural zones.
In Garhwal, the emphasis lies on bhailo, the torch dance, and honouring livestock. The festival coincides with the completion of the agricultural cycle, giving it shades of a harvest thanksgiving.
In Kumaon, especially in districts like Almora and Champawat, communities light diya rows along rooftops and temples, accompanied by folk performances such as Jhora and Chanchari dance forms.
Both versions reflect the agrarian heart of the hills, a people who work hard, celebrate harder, and find spiritual rhythm in the cycles of sowing and reaping.
Symbols of Loyalty and Legacy
For centuries, Uttarakhand’s highlands have been defined by migration, men joining the Army, the ITBP, or going to the plains for work. Yet every winter, they return home for Igas. The festival thus becomes a homecoming, a reunion of generations and a renewal of vows to one’s soil.
The lighting of the bhailo torch is not merely a ritual act. It is symbolic of loyalty, to one’s roots, village, and ancestors. Each flame carries a story of return, resilience, and remembrance.
Local elders often recall how, even decades ago, when communication was limited, families would wait for soldiers to return during Igas, knowing that wherever they were posted, they would never miss this day. The hills glowed not just with pine fire but with emotion.
Revival in the Modern Age
In recent years, Igas Bagwal has witnessed a renaissance. Social media, ironically, has become its new village square. Youth groups in Dehradun, Rishikesh, and Haldwani share reels of bhailo dances and mangal songs, igniting pride among urban Pahadis who had grown distant from their ancestral roots.
The Uttarakhand government has also recognized its cultural value, encouraging schools and institutions to observe Igas as a regional heritage day. Local NGOs, cultural bodies, and community leaders have started organizing Igas Melas, complete with folk music, local cuisine, and traditional attire contests.
Among the diaspora, especially in Delhi, Mumbai, and even abroad, Igas nights have become community gatherings where generations reconnect over stories of their mountain homes.
This revival signals something deeper: that in the noise of modernity, people are still searching for authenticity, and finding it in festivals that tie them to their lineage.
Songs that Bind Generations
Folk music is the soul of Igas. Unlike commercial performances, these songs are passed down orally, carrying within them centuries of wisdom and humour. A typical bhailo geet praises courage and chastity, mocks laziness, or celebrates love. Sung in groups with the beat of the dhol and damau, the songs unite the village in a rhythm older than memory.
Some lyrics describe the lighting of lamps for Bhagwan Ram; others recall the martial exploits of Garhwal kings. Each verse is an archive, preserving Uttarakhand’s collective consciousness.
Why Igas Matters
Igas Bagwal is not about extravagance; it is about endurance. It celebrates patience, the kind that waits eleven days for joy and still finds it undiminished. It teaches that tradition is not about imitation, but interpretation, that each community can mould a shared national spirit into its own unique expression.
In a time when festivals risk becoming performances, Igas whispers a gentler truth: celebration is not what we display; it is what we share.
A Personal Reflection
Having travelled across Uttarakhand, from the sacred ghats of Haridwar to the misty ridges of Rudraprayag, I have seen how this festival binds hearts. The simplicity of villagers lighting pine torches, the laughter of children running with tiny lamps, and the quiet pride of elders narrating stories of their ancestors, these are not just rituals; they are the living poetry of a civilization that still remembers gratitude.
In a world racing towards speed and uniformity, Igas stands still, like the Himalayas themselves, dignified, humble, and eternal. It tells us that light need not be loud to be luminous.
Epilogue: The Light Arrives Late, But It Arrives
As the cold winds sweep through the valleys and the night sky glows with circling torches, one understands the deeper message of Igas Bagwal. It is that faith, loyalty, and celebration need not always be synchronized with the world. Sometimes, they bloom best in delay, when the world is quiet, and hearts are ready.
Igas Bagwal is not just Uttarakhand’s late Diwali. It is India’s reminder that tradition, when kept alive by the people, never truly grows old.
#MayankSays ✨
The hills teach us this – that even light takes its time to reach great heights.
