Shrawan: The Month Nepali Women Start Getting Ready

The first thing I remember about Shrawan isn't a temple bell or a prayer — it's the sound of glass bangles clinking against each other in a bucket at Ason bazaar, hundreds of them, green and gold, while the vendor sorted through sizes with wet hands because it had been raining since morning. Monsoon rain in Kathmandu doesn't politely start and stop; it just settles in for the month. The streets went slick and grey, but every stall along the way turned green — bangles, potey beads, mehendi cones stacked like little green cigars, tikas in leaf-wrapped bundles. My aunt would say the whole city changes colour in Shrawan, and she wasn't exaggerating. It's the one month where you can tell what season it is by what women are wearing on their wrists.

That memory is the reason Shrawan matters to me, and I suspect it's the reason it matters to most Nepali women, wherever they've ended up. It's not just a religious month on the calendar. It's the moment the festival season quietly opens — the first signal, weeks before Teej, that it's time to start getting ready.

What Shrawan actually is

Shrawan (also spelled Sawan or Shravan) is the fourth month of the Nepali lunar calendar, usually falling across mid-July to mid-August — in the Bikram Sambat calendar for 2026, it runs from 16 July to 16 August. It's considered the holiest month for Lord Shiva, and the mythology behind that goes back to Samudra Manthan, the churning of the cosmic ocean by gods and demons in search of amrit, the nectar of immortality. Along with the nectar came Halahala, a poison so lethal it threatened to destroy all creation. Shiva drank it to protect the universe, holding it in his throat rather than swallowing it — which is why he's depicted with a blue throat, Neelkantha. The gods cooled the poison's effects by pouring water and offerings over him, and that act of devotion is said to be the origin of the Shiva puja rituals still performed today.

Mondays, or Somvar, are Shiva's day, and every Monday in Shrawan carries extra weight. Women observe Shrawan Somvar brata — a fast dedicated to Shiva, often extended by unmarried women specifically praying for a good husband, and by married women praying for their husband's health and long life. It's the same devotional logic that underpins Teej a few weeks later, which is part of why Shrawan functions as its emotional lead-in rather than a separate event.

What women actually do during Shrawan

If you grew up with Shrawan, you know it by ritual as much as by story:

• Somvar brata (Monday fasting) — many women fast every Monday through the month, some eating only fruit or a single meal after sunset, some going without water until the evening puja.
• Visiting Shiva temples — Pashupatinath sees the heaviest crowds of the year during Shrawan, but any local Shiva shrine fills up on Mondays, women queuing with copper lotas of milk and water.
• Green and yellow everywhere — green bangles and potey (glass bead necklaces) become the visual shorthand for the month. Green is tied to fertility, growth and the monsoon itself; yellow appears in tika and clothing as an auspicious, protective colour.
• Mehendi — not reserved for weddings in Shrawan. Friends do it for each other, mothers do it for daughters, and it's often treated as a small ritual of its own before the bigger mehendi sessions of Teej.

None of this is performative in the way it can look from outside. The fasting is genuinely hard — a full day without food while working, commuting, running a household — and the point isn't the hardship itself but the discipline, a kind of monthlong practice in devotion that culminates in Teej.

Married women, unmarried women — different prayer, same month

Shrawan doesn't ask the same thing of every woman, and that's worth being honest about rather than glossing over. Married women fast and pray primarily for their husband's health, longevity and the wellbeing of their marriage — the same intention that defines Teej. Unmarried women, particularly younger women, often use Shrawan Somvar to pray for a good life partner, following the story of Parvati's own long penance to win Shiva.

It's a tradition rooted in a fairly traditional view of marriage and womanhood, and for some women today it sits a little uneasily — praying for a husband's longevity while your own health and ambitions get less ritual attention isn't lost on anyone who thinks about it for more than a minute. But most women I know hold both things at once: an awareness that the tradition is old-fashioned in places, and a real, unforced attachment to the rhythm of it — the fasting, the green, the temple visits, the company of other women doing the same thing. It's less about the theology and more about the continuity.

Observing Shrawan on the wrong side of the equator

Here's the part that doesn't get talked about enough: in Australia and New Zealand, Shrawan lands in the middle of winter. While Kathmandu is monsoon-soaked and green, Sydney or Auckland is grey and cold in a completely different way — no rain drumming on a tin roof, no smell of wet earth, just short days and central heating. It's a strange kind of dissonance, fasting for a monsoon festival while wearing a jacket to the car.

Diaspora women manage it in their own ways. Local Shiva temples — wherever they exist, sometimes an hour's drive away — get busier on Shrawan Mondays, and the crowd is smaller but no less devoted. Mehendi evenings happen in someone's lounge room instead of a courtyard, usually with music playing and a group chat coordinating who's bringing what. Video calls home fill in the rest — mums narrating what the market looks like right now, sisters holding the phone up to show a temple queue, all the sensory detail you can't get any other way. There's a quiet homesickness built into the whole month that doesn't fully go away no matter how many years you've been here, and most women don't try to explain it — they just fast, put the bangles on, and call home.

That's really what Shrawan is for the diaspora — not a smaller, diluted version of the Nepal experience, but the start of a countdown. It's the month you start thinking about what you'll wear for Teej, whether your red kurtha still fits, whether you need new bangles, who's hosting mehendi night this year. If that's you, it's worth browsing the Teej and festival collection now rather than in the last panicked week before Teej, when the good red silk kurtha sets are already gone.

FAQ

When is Shrawan in 2026? In the Nepali Bikram Sambat calendar, Shrawan 2026 runs from 16 July to 16 August. (Note that Amanta and Purnimanta lunar calendars used in parts of India place Shravan on different dates — the Nepali dates above are the ones relevant to Nepali tradition.)

Why is green the colour of Shrawan? Green is tied to the monsoon season, fertility and new growth, and it's specifically associated with married life and marital devotion — which is why green bangles and potey are worn heavily through Shrawan and into Teej.

Can you observe the Monday fast while working full-time? Yes, though it takes some planning. Many women fasting on Shrawan Somvar eat fruit, milk or a light meal to keep energy up during work hours, then break the fast properly after evening puja. It's less strict than a full nirjala (waterless) fast, and there's no single "correct" way to do it — most women adjust it to what their body and schedule can actually manage.

What's the connection between Shrawan and Teej? Shrawan is effectively the lead-in to Teej. Both centre on Shiva devotion and marital wellbeing, both involve fasting and temple visits, and the rituals build through the month — Shrawan Somvar fasts are often seen as preparation for the bigger, more intensive Teej fast that follows in Bhadra.