There’s a particular kind of chill that creeps into Bengal’s air in late autumn—not the kind that makes you reach for a shawl, but the kind that makes you glance over your shoulder. It’s the eve of Kali Puja, and the night belongs not to the goddess yet, but to her spectral entourage. Welcome to Bhoot Chaturdashi (ভূত চতুর্দশী), Bengal’s own twilight festival of spirits, shadows, and ancestral whispers. This is Bengal’s night of spirits, a ritual steeped in folklore, ancestral reverence, and the eternal play of light and darkness.

Bhoot Chaturdashi falls on the 14th day of the waning moon in the month of Kartik (October-November). The name itself is a linguistic séance: Bhoot (ghost) and Chaturdashi (fourteenth). It’s believed that on this night, the veil between the living and the dead things, and the spirits of fourteen ancestors—choddo purush—return home for a brief visit. Not to haunt, but to hover. Not to scare, but to see if we’ve remembered them.

Often dubbed as the “Bengali Halloween,” Bhoot Chaturdashi is not a recent import but an ancient tradition that predates the West’s fascination with ghosts and goblins. While Halloween thrives on costumes, candies, and tricks, Bhoot Chaturdashi is a meditative celebration rooted in remembrance, protection, and the rhythms of nature.

The Ancestral Legend of Bhoot Chaturdashi

Since ancient times, ghost stories — tales of spirits who return from the dead to haunt the places they left behind — have figured prominently in the folklore of many cultures around the world. Bhoot Chaturdashi is steeped in folklore and beliefs.

Observed on the 14th day of the Krishna Paksha (waning moon) in the month of Kartik, Bhoot Chaturdashi is tied to Bengal’s belief in the choddo pitr — the fourteen forefathers who return to the mortal world for a single night. Their descent is not menacing but protective. They are believed to shield their descendants from malevolent beings, offering blessings of safety and well-being.

Yet, to welcome them home and safeguard the household from wandering spirits, rituals must be observed: the lighting of choddo prodeep (fourteen lamps) and the consumption of choddo shaak (fourteen greens). These practices transform the night into an interplay of light, nourishment, and remembrance.

The Tradition of Fourteen Lamps

As dusk deepens, Bengali households prepare for the most visible ritual of Bhoot Chaturdashi — the lighting of fourteen earthen lamps. Each lamp, glowing with mustard oil and hand-rolled cotton wicks, is placed strategically at entrances, thresholds, windows, stairways, and dark corners of the home.

Some families make lamps from the mud from their garden and light them up at night, some use store-bought diyas and some light candles. As kids, we used to roll cotton wicks in the palm of our hand and light fourteen earthen lamps, which had been washed and dried in the sun all morning and were waiting, ready, filled to the brim with golden Mustard oil.

The symbolism of this act is twofold. First, it is an invitation to the spirits of one’s ancestors, showing them the way home. The lamps illuminate the path for these benevolent souls, welcoming them into the house for the night. Second, the light is also meant to drive away evil spirits, preventing them from causing harm or mischief. In a way, the festival is a balance of reverence and protection, of remembering those who came before while shielding oneself from negative forces.

The lamps, traditionally made of clay, also connect the living to the earth, a subtle reminder of the cycle of life and death, where all must eventually return to the soil.

The Ritual of Fourteen Greens

If the lamps are symbolic of light and protection, the ritual of eating choddo shaak ties the living to nature’s cycle of health and survival. Families prepare dishes with fourteen leafy greens, each with unique medicinal properties. Together, they form a fortification for both the body and the spirit.

Why fourteen? Because each green is said to represent a layer of protection against diseases. It’s a culinary talisman, a way to fortify the body as winter approaches. The tradition is believed to have roots in Ayurvedic practices and the worship of Shakambhari Devi, the goddess of vegetation.

Ancient Ayurvedic wisdom, as recorded in texts like the Charaka Samhita, prescribes such seasonal consumption of herbs and greens to rebalance the body during seasonal transitions. The onset of autumn, with its shift in temperature and immunity, was seen as a vulnerable time — hence the ritual of consuming diverse greens to ward off ailments.

Traditionally, these greens were not cultivated crops from organised fields, but uncultivated plants gathered from the homestead’s fringes: along ditches, pond banks, roadsides, and field bunds. This reflected a rural knowledge system that valued the food and medicinal potential of plants growing wild.

For choddo shaak, the greens can be any fourteen without a specific cooking method. It isn’t just a dish—it’s a ritual, a botanical roll call of protection and remembrance. Each leaf is chosen not for taste, but for its symbolic and medicinal value. While the exact list can vary by region and availability, here’s the most commonly cited ensemble of greens:

Bengali Name	English/Common Name
ওল (Ol)	Elephant Foot Yam Leaves
কেঁউ (Kenou)	Wild Arum Leaves
বেতো (Beto)	Indian Nightshade Leaves
সর্ষে (Sorshe)	Mustard Greens
কালকাসুন্দে (KalkaSunde)	Black Nightshade Leaves
জয়ন্তী (Jayanti)	Wild Basil or Sacred Basil
নিম (Neem)	Neem Leaves
হেলঞ্চা/হিঞ্চে (Helencha/Hinche)	Indian Marshweed
শাঞ্চে/শালিঞ্চা (Shanche/Shalincha)	Water Spinach
গুলঞ্চ (Guloncho)	Tinospora Cordifolia Leaves
পলতা/পটুক পত্র (Polta/Patuk Patra)	Wild Spinach
ভাঁটপাতা (Bhatpata)	Clerodendrum Leaves
শুলফা (Shulfa)	Amaranth Leaves
শুষনী (Shushuni)	Hygrophila Leaves

Cooking methods vary from household to household — sometimes lightly sautéed, sometimes combined into a single medley. What matters is not the recipe but the ritual of consumption, binding health, memory, and nature in a single act.

In today’s age of monocropping, climate change, and nutritional imbalance, such rituals take on renewed importance. They remind us that wellness cannot be separated from biodiversity, that ancestral knowledge holds keys to modern challenges of food and health.

Cultural Significance: More than Ghost Stories

While the lights and the greens are central to Bhoot Chaturdashi, the essence of the festival lies in its ability to connect the living with the past. It’s a night for honouring our past and remembering that life and death are intertwined threads in the fabric of existence.

At first glance, Bhoot Chaturdashi might appear as Bengal’s “night of ghosts.” Indeed, folklore brims with stories of petni, pishach, and other spectral beings that roam the night. Beyond the ghostly tales, Bhoot Chaturdashi celebrates life, memory, and the enduring power of protection.

In a world of uncertainty, Bhoot Chaturdashi reminds us that light and nourishment are our strongest defences. Through these simple yet profound rituals, we weave ourselves into the continuum of existence, honouring the past while safeguarding our future.

Bhoot Chaturdashi & Halloween: Parallel Yet Distinct

It is tempting to compare Bhoot Chaturdashi to Halloween. Both fall in autumn, both are associated with spirits, and both involve the interplay of fear and festivity. But their essence differs. Halloween thrives on playful spookiness — costumes, candy, and pranks. Bhoot Chaturdashi is reflective, solemn, yet protective — a ritual of continuity and reverence, where the eerie mingles with the sacred.

Where Halloween invokes vampires and werewolves, Bengal’s tales whisper of brahmodaittyos, petnis, and pishachs. Where Halloween carves pumpkins into lanterns, Bengal lights clay lamps filled with mustard oil. Both festivals, however, remind us of the thin veil between worlds, and humanity’s instinctive need to confront and embrace it.

A Living Tradition in a Changing World

In an era of modernity, when traditions can sometimes fade into oblivion, Bhoot Chaturdashi stands as a gentle reminder of the importance of remembering, of reverence for the past, and of the timeless power of ritual. So, as you light your fourteen lamps this year and savour the greens, remember that you are part of a timeless tradition that connects us to our ancestors and protects us for the future.

Epilogue: The Fourteenth Flame

As the night deepens and the lamps burn low, there’s a moment of stillness. You imagine the ancestors—your choddo purush—standing at the doorway, nodding in approval. The greens have been eaten, the lamps lit, the stories told. They drift away, content that they haven’t been forgotten.

And you, standing in the quiet glow of fourteen flames, realize that Bhoot Chaturdashi isn’t about ghosts at all. It’s about memory, about the fragile thread that ties us to those who came before. It’s about the light we offer to the past, hoping it will guide us through the future.

A tradition that reminds us that in the flicker of a lamp and the leafiness of a green lies the power of protection, continuity, and reverence.

Happy Bhoot Chaturdashi! 👻