NOVEMBER - KATTAK
November. A time when the earth feels poised between two worlds. In the Northern Hemisphere, the bite of winter begins to settle in, with its brisk winds and fading daylight. Meanwhile, in the Southern Hemisphere, the spring season reaches its peak, its warmth building towards the heat of summer. November is a month of contrasts - a dance between endings and beginnings, between rest and renewal.
In the north, the trees stand bare, their autumn leaves scattered across the ground, crunching underfoot. The first frost sparkles on rooftops and grass, marking the arrival of colder days. Days grow shorter, and the sun dips below the horizon earlier each evening, painting the skies with fiery hues. It’s a time of layering coats, sipping hot drinks, and drawing closer to warmth. For many, November is a month of quiet preparation - of turning inward before winter fully arrives.
In the south, November is vibrant. Blossoms reach their peak, blanketing trees and fields in soft pastels. The days stretch longer, warmer, filled with the promise of the summer ahead. People linger outdoors, soaking in the comfortable balance of spring warmth and gentle breezes. The earth feels alive - abundant, bursting with energy, and brimming with life.
In Punjab, November aligns with Kattak, a month of transition steeped in tradition and significance. Kattak serves as a bridge, linking the cooler days of autumn to the misty chill of winter. It’s a time when the land rests, rejuvenating itself after the harvests of Phagan and Assu. The golden fields, once buzzing with activity, now lie quiet, their stubble awaiting ploughing for the next crop cycle.
Kattak carries with it a noticeable change in the air. The days grow shorter. The mornings are crisp with the first signs of winter. Villages echo with the sound of traditional melodies, as evening gatherings become common, bringing people together in warmth and camaraderie.
In the fields, farmers prepare for the upcoming sowing season, particularly for wheat - the lifeblood of Punjab’s agriculture. The soil is turned, replenished with compost and nutrients. Seeds are measured and set aside, ready to be sown in the coming weeks. For many, Kattak is a time of patience - a moment to plan, to wait, and to ensure that the coming cycle is bountiful.
The markets, too, shift during Kattak. With the autumn harvest complete, stalls brim with fresh produce - plump oranges, crisp radishes, and hearty greens that thrive in the cooler weather. The seasonal transition is solid, not just in the fields but in the everyday rhythms of life. Families stock up on essentials, knowing that harsher weather lies ahead.
Culturally, Kattak is a time of reflection. It is a month that encourages gratitude - for the harvests past, for the blessings present, and for the promise of what’s to come.
The rivers of Punjab flow slower during Kattak, as the snow that feeds them begins to freeze up with winter’s arrival. Their waters glisten under the soft sunlight, reflecting the changing skies above. In the countryside, the mustard fields begin their transformation, their first yellow blooms signalling the approach of winter. The cycle of life continues, steady and unbroken.
Even as the earth quietens in Kattak, the Punjabi spirit remains resilient and vibrant. Farmers hearts are full of faith that the land will once again yield its bounty. The air, though cooler, carries a sense of calm - a reminder of the balance between rest and effort, between waiting and growth.
As November unfolds, Kattak serves as a reminder of life’s constant rhythm - a time to pause, reflect, and prepare. It whispers of the beauty in transitions, the significance of patience, and the promise that with every quiet moment, new beginnings are just around the corner.
In Kattak, Punjab breathes deeply, readying itself for the journey into winter and beyond. The land, the people, and the culture stand in harmony, bound by the timeless cycles of nature. And as Kattak gives way to Maghar, the chill deepens, but so too does the spirit of resilience - a hallmark of Punjabi life.
A depiction of farmers hand sowing wheat in kattak.
With the turning of the seasons, may Kattak teach us to embrace the beauty of change. Yours, Trish Saab