Sandhara: Wood-fired biscuits keep state’s monsoon rituals alive

As the monsoon wind swirls across the state, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked fields, another fragrance travels through the air—the warm, swe

In villages tucked around Sahnewal, Doraha, Samrala and Gill, fires are lit and hands are busy. It is the season of Sandhara, the age-old custom, wherein married daughters are sent lovingly prepared parcels by their parents during the month of Sawan and Teeyan. The package of nostalgia often includes bangles, suits, mehndi and most memorably, freshly baked mathiyan and biscuits. Even in the fast-changing world, the smoke curling out of these bhattis signals that some traditions still rise—one tin at a time.

Rooted in emotion and ritual, Sandhara is more than a bundle of items—it’s a symbol of affection, remembrance and pride. Traditionally given when newly married girls return to their in-laws after celebrating Teeyan at their maternal home, Sandhara includes a Punjabi suit, glass bangles, mehndi and something sweet—most notably, biscuits and mathiyan made from jaggery.

With the passage of time, as married daughters settle into their new lives and responsibilities, the tradition of Sandhara continues to bridge the distance. Even when a daughter cannot return home during Sawan to celebrate Teeyan, her parents make sure the lovingly prepared parcel is sent to her in-laws’ home. It is often the brother who carries this bundle of affection, traveling across villages to deliver not just gifts, but a reminder of home.

“My son insists on taking Sandhara himself,” says Jaswinder Kaur from Samrala. “He says it’s not just a ritual—it’s his way of staying connected to his sister.”

While urban families may opt for store-bought sweets, in villages around Sahnewal, Gill, Samrala and Doraha, the tradition of preparing wood-fired biscuits at local bhattis still thrives.

These rustic ovens, once common in every village, now flicker to life mainly during Sawan, as families queue up with ingredients—desi ghee, wheat flour, jaggery and milk—to have their Sandhara biscuits custom-made.

“We’ve been baking for Sandhara for over 40 years,” says Sharna, from Sanhewal’s Rajgarh Biscuits Bhatti. “People still come with their own ingredients and sit beside the bhatti, watching each batch rise. It’s not just about taste—it’s about emotion,” he added.

“My daughter couldn’t come home this year, but her Sandhara reached her on time,” said Balwinder Kaur, a mother from Doraha. “She called just to say the biscuits tasted like childhood. That’s all I needed to hear,”

added Balwinder.

“My brother still brings Sandhara every year,” shares Harpreet Kaur, a newlywed from Sanhewal. “But it’s the biscuits I wait for. No bakery can match the flavour of those bhatti-made ones,” said she.

Though the tradition is slowly fading in the urban areas of the state, its essence remains alive in the hearts of those who continue to honour it. For many, Sandhara is not just a ritual—it’s a memory wrapped in sweetness, stitched with love and delivered with pride.