The Sacred Art of Saancha: When Wood Speaks the Language of Faith

There’s a quiet, sacred moment in the making of thekua — one that transforms it from a simple sweet into something divine.

It happens when skilled hands press a wooden mould — the saancha — into soft dough. In that instant, a plain disc of wheat and jaggery becomes a sun, a lotus, a leaf, a prayer. What was once dough becomes a symbol. What was once ordinary becomes sacred.

But those designs aren’t just decoration. Each line, each curve, each petal carved into the saancha carries meaning — a language written in wood that connects the offering to cosmic forces, nature’s rhythms, and centuries of devotion.

The Language Written in Wood

Walk through any traditional market in Bihar or eastern Uttar Pradesh before Chhath Puja, and you’ll find rows of saanchas — handcrafted, timeworn, glowing softly in the morning light.

Each is unique. None is machine-made. These are carved by artisans who learned from their fathers and grandfathers, in an unbroken chain of craftsmanship that spans generations.

The wood matters. Mango and sheesham are the most common — durable, smooth, and strong enough to endure repeated pressing without splintering. Over time, the wood darkens and smooths, its surface polished by years of worship and oil and flour.

But it’s the designs that tell the real story. The saancha isn’t just a tool — it’s scripture in wood. When pressed into dough, it encodes centuries of spiritual knowledge into edible form.

Every imprint is an invocation. Every pattern is a prayer. Every thekua carries meaning far deeper than taste.

The Sun: The Ultimate Offering

The sun motif is the most iconic design — instantly recognizable as the symbol of Chhath Puja.

It’s no coincidence. Thekua, after all, is an offering to Surya Dev, the Sun God. The saancha simply mirrors the worship.

Some sun saanchas are simple — a circle with eight straight rays. Others are elaborate — curved, petal-like rays surrounding a central orb, or even multiple suns within a single design. Each artisan adds their signature touch.

The symbolism is profound.
When you offer a sun-patterned thekua to Surya Dev, you’re creating a reflection — the sun above being honoured by the sun below. The image becomes invocation: not just a representation of the divine, but an invitation for divine presence.

The rays radiating from the centre represent the sun’s life-giving energy, spreading warmth and vitality to all creation.

Many families believe the number of rays carries meaning:

• 8 rays for the eight directions, seeking protection from all sides.
• 12 rays for the twelve months, ensuring prosperity throughout the year.
• 16 rays for the sixteen kalas (phases of the sun and moon combined), symbolising completeness.

It’s sacred geometry — simple yet cosmic. When devotees consume this prasad later, they are quite literally taking the sun’s blessings into their bodies.

The Lotus: Purity Rising from Water

If the sun represents light, the lotus represents purity.

Lotus saanchas create breathtaking patterns — from simple five-petal designs to elaborate blooms that could rival carved temple ceilings. Some depict the full flower; others show it budding or floating atop ripples.

The lotus, growing in muddy water yet blooming clean, symbolises spiritual purity amid worldly life. During Chhath — a festival that emphasises inner and outer cleanliness — this symbol reinforces the idea that we can remain untouched by the impurities of the world while rooted in it.

The lotus is also the flower of creation and rebirth. In Hindu mythology, Brahma emerges from a lotus growing from Vishnu’s navel. Pressing this pattern into thekua is an act of invoking creative power — a prayer for renewal and prosperity.

A full lotus symbolises enlightenment; a bud symbolises potential. Families often use the lotus saancha for evening arghya, when the setting sun casts golden light across the river — the perfect meeting of light and water, captured in edible form.

The Leaf: Nature’s Offering Plate

The leaf pattern connects thekua directly to the earth.

Leaf-shaped saanchas come in many forms — simple ovals with a single vein, or intricate patterns showing the delicate network of leaf lines. Some depict specific leaves like peepal, mango, or banana.

Each carries its own blessing:

• Peepal leaf: sacred to Vishnu and Buddha, symbolising wisdom and longevity.
• Mango leaf: a sign of auspiciousness and fertility, used in every Hindu household decoration.
• Banana leaf: abundance and generosity, its year-round fruiting symbolising continuous prosperity.

In rituals, leaves are often used as offering plates (patra). The leaf saancha makes the thekua both offering and plate — uniting purpose and symbol in a single form.

The leaf also reminds devotees of our dependence on nature. It is the sun’s energy transformed through photosynthesis, the cycle of life made tangible. Offering thekua marked with leaf patterns closes that sacred loop — sun to plant to human to sun again.

The Fish: Abundance and Flow

In river-rich regions like north Bihar and Jharkhand, fish saanchas are common — sleek designs depicting fish in motion, scales etched delicately into the wood.

Fish symbolise abundance, fertility, and good fortune. In Hinduism, Vishnu’s first incarnation was Matsya, the fish who saved the Vedas during a flood. In Buddhism, two golden fish represent freedom from fear and suffering.

For agrarian and riverine communities, the fish saancha embodies both ecological and spiritual truth: healthy rivers bring abundant crops and thriving life. Offering fish-patterned thekua during Chhath becomes a prayer for balance and sustenance across all living systems.

The Geometric Divine

Not all saanchas depict plants or animals. Some are purely geometric — concentric circles, hexagons, starbursts, mandalas.

In Hindu philosophy, geometry is sacred. The yantra — a tool for meditation — uses geometric design to represent divine order. When similar patterns appear on thekua, they transform the prasad into edible yantras.

A circle symbolises infinity and unity.
A hexagon or six-pointed star represents the harmony of opposites — fire and water, male and female, heaven and earth.
An eight-pointed star calls forth protection and prosperity in all directions.

Some saanchas even create patterns that align only when multiple thekuas are placed together in the basket — a stunning visual metaphor for community: individual pieces forming one complete whole.

The Composite Designs: When Symbols Dance Together

The most elaborate saanchas blend multiple symbols — a sun surrounded by lotus petals, or leaves encircling geometric centres.

These composite designs carry layered prayers. A sun-lotus combination expresses enlightenment through divine energy. A sun with a leaf border celebrates the sun’s role in nurturing life.

Families often own sets of saanchas collected over generations — each with personal stories attached. A grandmother’s favourite sun, a mother’s cherished lotus, a newly acquired fish saancha for prosperity. Using all of them keeps heritage alive, turning every thekua basket into a living museum of family faith.

The Artisan’s Touch

None of this magic exists without the artisans.

In the small villages of Bihar, artisans carve these saanchas entirely by hand. They treat their craft as worship. Many begin carving with prayers, sometimes fasting, while working on religious designs. For them, the saancha isn’t a product — it’s a sacred responsibility.

Carving requires precision. The grooves must be deep enough to imprint clearly, but not so deep that the wood weakens. Every line must be balanced. Every stroke must respect the grain.

When you buy a hand-carved saancha, you’re not buying a kitchen tool. You’re receiving a piece of spiritual heritage, shaped by devotion as much as skill.

Some families return to the same artisan year after year, forming relationships that transcend transaction — artist and devotee bound by shared reverence.

The Ritual of Pressing

Pressing the saancha into the dough is its own small ritual. It’s done deliberately, with focus. Some women whisper prayers or mantras while pressing. Others silently think of their families, blessing each piece.

The moment the saancha lifts away — revealing the perfect imprint — is quietly awe-inspiring. The pattern appears like a revelation. Dough becomes message. Texture becomes meaning.

When fried, the design darkens slightly, its lines deepening in contrast. The symbol, once pressed in, survives the fire — like faith tested and made stronger.

Each thekua, marked and fried, becomes both food and philosophy.

Preserving a Vanishing Art

Yet this sacred craft faces extinction. Plastic moulds threaten to replace wooden saanchas. Younger generations, drawn to other livelihoods, rarely learn the art of carving.

But hope remains. Revival movements and cultural enthusiasts are bringing attention to these artisans. Families who understand the significance continue to seek hand-carved saanchas, refusing plastic convenience in favour of authenticity.

Because a saancha made by hand carries something that machines can’t replicate — soul. The small irregularities, the slight asymmetry — they’re what make it human, what make it divine.

What Your Saancha Says About You

Patterns are personal. The saancha you choose reflects your inner world.

• The sun speaks of devotion and clarity.
• The lotus of purity and growth.
• The leaf of gratitude for nature’s bounty.
• The fish of abundance and joy.
• The geometry of harmony and balance.

Some families use different saanchas for different times of day — the sun for morning offerings, lotus for evening, leaf for distribution. Others combine them all, creating a basket that embodies completeness.

Each choice becomes a subtle expression of faith — a fingerprint of tradition.

Unity in Patterns

Stand at any Chhath ghat at sunrise and look closely at the prasad baskets. You’ll see hundreds of thekuas — suns, lotuses, leaves, and geometric forms glimmering in the light. Each pattern is different, each message the same.

This is what saancha teaches us: diversity held together by devotion.

Every design, every press, every piece of wood whispers the same prayer — thank you. Thank you for the light. For water. For harvest. For life.

The saancha is how generations have said this — through a language older than words, written in wood, offered in sweetness.

Conclusion: When Wood Becomes Prayer

Next time you see thekua — look closely. Those patterns aren’t just decoration. They’re philosophy made visible, devotion carved in wood.

The sun isn’t just a symbol — it’s light embodied.
The lotus isn’t just a flower — it’s purity triumphant.
The leaf isn’t just nature — it’s gratitude pressed into dough.
The geometry isn’t just design — it’s the order of the universe rendered edible.

Every saancha, every carving, every imprint carries a message: that faith can be held in your hands, that beauty and belief can coexist, and that even a simple act like pressing dough can connect human to divine.

That’s the sacred art of the saancha.
That’s how wood speaks the language of faith.