Makar Sankranti: the Sun’s turning

When the light begins its return

Among the many festivals of the Indian calendar, Makar Sankranti holds a singular position. While most Hindu observances follow the lunar calendar - the tithis and purnimas that mark the Moon’s waxing and waning - Sankranti is solar. It falls on the day the Sun crosses from Dhanu (Sagittarius) into Makara (Capricorn), typically January 14th or 15th, marking the beginning of Uttarayan - the northern path, the six months when the Sun climbs higher in the sky and the days lengthen toward summer.

The word sankranti itself comes from the Sanskrit root kram, to step or move, with the prefix sam indicating completeness. A sankranti is a complete crossing, a transition point. There are twelve sankrantis each year as the Sun moves through the zodiac, but Makar Sankranti carries special weight because it marks not merely a change of sign but a change of direction - the moment when the Sun, having reached its southernmost point at the winter solstice, begins its return northward.

The astronomical moment

The winter solstice occurs around December 21st, when the Sun reaches its lowest declination in the Northern Hemisphere. From that point, the days begin lengthening imperceptibly. But the Vedic tradition marks the solar turning not at the solstice itself but at the Sun’s entry into Makara, which occurs roughly three weeks later due to the precession of the equinoxes - the gradual shift between the tropical zodiac (based on the seasons) and the sidereal zodiac (based on the fixed stars) that Jyotish employs.

This difference matters less than it might seem. What the tradition recognizes is a turning point - the moment after which the ascent of light becomes unmistakable. The solstice is the nadir; Sankranti is the confirmation that the turn has indeed occurred. By mid-January, even those not tracking celestial mechanics notice the lengthening afternoons.

The Sun’s entry into Makara carries additional significance in Jyotish. Capricorn is ruled by Saturn, the planet of discipline, time, and endurance. The Sun - representing the soul, vitality, and royal authority - finds itself in the sign of its planetary adversary. This is not a comfortable position for the Sun, yet something about this placement seems fitting for the season: the light returning must do so slowly, patiently, through sustained effort against the remaining cold. There is tapas in this - the fire of discipline that builds through maintained practice against resistance.

Uttarayan and Dakshinayan

The year divides into two halves from the Sun’s perspective. Uttarayan - from uttara (north) and ayana (path or journey) - spans the six months from Makar Sankranti to the summer solstice, when the Sun travels its northern course. Dakshinayan - the southern path - covers the remaining six months as the Sun descends toward its winter nadir.

Traditional teaching holds Uttarayan as the more auspicious half of the year. The Bhagavad Gita speaks of those who depart during Uttarayan as attaining Brahman, while those who depart during Dakshinayan return to rebirth. The symbolism runs deep: northward is upward, toward the gods, toward liberation; southward is descent, toward the ancestors, toward continuation of the cycle. This is why Bhishma, the great patriarch of the Mahabharata, lay on his bed of arrows through all of Dakshinayan, waiting until Uttarayan began to release his life force - a detail that anchors Sankranti in epic memory.

For the living, Uttarayan marks a period especially suited for new beginnings, for undertakings meant to grow and flourish. The principles of muhurta - selecting favorable times for significant actions - recognize this half-year as generally supportive for expansion, while Dakshinayan favors completion, ancestors, and matters requiring descent into depth rather than ascent into light.

Why sesame and jaggery

Sankranti is associated throughout India with particular foods, most notably til (sesame) and gur (jaggery). Sesame ladoos, til-gur chikkis, and countless regional variations appear in homes and markets. The greeting in Maharashtra captures the spirit: til-gul ghya ani goad goad bola - take this sesame-jaggery and speak sweetly.

From an Ayurvedic perspective, these foods make perfect sense for mid-January. Winter demands heating, nourishing substances. Sesame is warming, heavy, and oleaginous - precisely what the body needs when agni burns hot but the external environment draws heat away. The classical texts describe sesame as building strength and supporting the tissues during the cold months. Jaggery provides quick energy and warmth, its sweetness grounding vata and supporting the body’s need for substantial fuel.

The combination also carries symbolic weight. Sesame seeds are tiny yet potent - small efforts that accumulate into something substantial. Jaggery sweetens what might otherwise be difficult. Together they represent the Sankranti teaching: the warmth must be cultivated from within, through many small practices sustained over time, and the discipline should be sweetened with good will.

Traditional observances

The practices of Makar Sankranti vary by region but share certain themes.

Dawn bathing holds particular significance, especially in sacred rivers. The confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and mythical Saraswati at Prayag (Allahabad) draws millions during the Magh Mela that begins at Sankranti. Where sacred rivers are unavailable, any mindful bathing before sunrise participates in the same principle - greeting the turning Sun with a cleansed body.

Surya worship takes many forms. The Surya Namaskar - the sun salutation sequence familiar to modern yoga practitioners - finds its original context here: a physical offering to the Sun performed facing east at dawn. The Gayatri Mantra, addressed to Savita (the stimulating aspect of the Sun), carries special potency on this day. Simple practices also serve: stepping outside to witness the sunrise, acknowledging the light’s return, expressing gratitude for warmth and vision.

Dana - charitable giving - is emphasized on Sankranti, particularly gifts of warmth: blankets, sesame, grains, and in earlier times, the giving of cows. The logic is both practical and spiritual. Midwinter is when the poor suffer most from cold; sharing warmth when warmth is most needed creates merit. Sesame given as charity on Sankranti is said to benefit ancestors, connecting the solar festival to the ongoing relationship with those who have passed.

Kite flying has become the iconic image of Sankranti in Gujarat and other regions. The kites represent reaching toward the Sun, the strings connecting earth to sky. There is something essentially joyful in this practice - the seriousness of solar worship lightened by play, the community gathering outdoors to celebrate together.

Regional expressions

The same solar moment finds different expression across the subcontinent, a reminder that beneath cultural diversity lies astronomical unity.

In Tamil Nadu, Pongal is a four-day harvest festival that begins on the same day. The name comes from the ritual dish - rice boiled in milk until it overflows the pot, with the overflow itself being auspicious, signifying abundance. Thai Pongal thanks the Sun for the harvest; Mattu Pongal the following day honors cattle.

In Punjab, Lohri falls the night before Sankranti - a bonfire festival celebrating the winter solstice’s passing, associated particularly with newlyweds and new children. The fire itself becomes the offering, the community gathering around warmth as the cold reaches its peak.

In Assam, Magh Bihu marks the end of the harvest season with community feasting and bonfires. In Bengal, the bathing festival Ganga Sagar Mela draws pilgrims to the confluence of the Ganges and the sea.

These are not different festivals awkwardly grouped together but the same recognition expressing itself through regional idiom. The Sun crosses into Makara for all of India on the same day; how each community responds reveals something about their particular relationship to land, agriculture, and tradition.

Practice for the modern seeker

For those drawn to observe Sankranti, the tradition suggests approaches suited to contemporary life.

Rise before dawn if possible. Bathe with awareness, recognizing the cleansing as both physical and symbolic. If circumstances permit cold water, even briefly, the discomfort becomes tapas - the fire generated through accepted difficulty.

Face east at sunrise. This can be as simple as stepping outside, finding the eastern horizon, and standing in acknowledgment. If sun salutations are part of your practice, Sankranti morning lends them particular meaning. If mantra practice is established, the Gayatri or Om Suryaya Namaha align with the day’s energy.

Eat the traditional foods. Sesame in any form - tahini, sesame oil, til ladoo if you make them - and jaggery or molasses connect you to the collective practice of millions. Let the sweetness remind you to speak kindly, to sweeten your interactions.

Give something. Traditional charity involved blankets and grains for the poor. Modern equivalents might include donations to organizations serving the homeless in winter, or simply bringing warmth in whatever form to someone who needs it.

Set intention for the six months ahead. Uttarayan is the expansive half of the year. What wants to grow? What undertaking has waited for favorable conditions? The Sun’s turning offers a natural reset point - not the arbitrary calendar year, but the actual return of light.

The teaching of the turning

Beneath the rituals and the foods, Sankranti carries a teaching about patience and trust.

The winter solstice passes largely unmarked. The Sun reaches its lowest point, pauses, and begins its return, yet the days remain short, the cold intense, the darkness dominant. It takes weeks before the change becomes noticeable. The light returns slowly, degree by degree, day by day. There is no sudden transformation, no dramatic reversal - only the steady, patient climb toward warmth.

This is the nature of genuine change. The decisive moment often passes quietly; its effects unfold gradually. The practice maintained through difficulty, the discipline sustained when results remain invisible, the faith that the turning has occurred even when evidence is scarce - these are what Uttarayan asks of us.

The Sun does not rush its northern journey. It cannot be hurried. Day adds to day, degree to degree, until suddenly it is spring and then summer and we wonder how we arrived. Sankranti marks the beginning of that process - not the arrival, but the confident turning toward what will come.

Tomorrow, or the day after depending on the precise astronomical moment, the Sun enters Makara. The light begins its ascent. The fire that seemed to retreat now advances. And we, participating in this cosmic rhythm, can align our small lives with the great turning - eating sweetness, bathing in dawn light, setting intention for growth, and trusting that what has turned will indeed arrive, in time, with patience, through the steady accumulation of light upon light.

Makar Sankranti completes a set with Ekadashi and Purnima as the major observances of the Vedic calendar - lunar restraint, lunar fullness, and solar turning. Understanding Surya deepens appreciation of the Sun’s significance in Jyotish. For guidance on working with seasonal transitions, see Winter Practices and Hemanta.