The Harvest Goddess: When India and Mexico Dreamed the Same Divine

In many Bengali homes, the autumn moon glows on freshly cleaned courtyards. Lamps flicker beside baskets of rice and clay pots, while an owl figurine keeps watch. On this night of Kojagori Purnima, people worship Goddess Lakshmi—the bringer of plenty.

But if you look closely, this celebration is not just about gold and fortune. It is about grain, soil, and the quiet gratitude of those who live by the land.

The small details tell the story: rice sheaves placed beside the altar, a boat filled with grains, vermillion and coconut shells arranged in a wicker basket. These are not symbols of commerce; they are emblems of harvest. The goddess who receives them was once not merely a patron of wealth but the protector of crops—the Shashya Devi, the mother of food itself.


Lakshmi: The Forgotten Harvest Mother

Today, Lakshmi is known everywhere as the glittering goddess of prosperity—her hands showering coins, her form framed in golden light. Yet older traditions remember her differently. In eastern India, particularly Bengal, Assam, and Odisha, she descends on Kojagori Purnima, five days after Durga Puja ends—on the full moon night when the monsoon season concludes and the harvest begins.

The very name Kojagori comes from the Bengali phrase Ko jagorti?—"Who is awake?" It is said that Lakshmi walks the earth that night, blessing those who keep vigil. The people who wait for her do not offer jewels or silk, but simple grains, paddy, and light. The act of staying awake becomes a ritual of remembrance: a way of saying, "We are still grateful."

This is different from the Diwali Lakshmi Puja celebrated in North India fifteen days later on the new moon (Amavasya), where Lakshmi is worshipped primarily as the goddess of wealth and business prosperity. In Bengal, the focus remains rooted in household abundance and agricultural thanksgiving—a quieter, older tradition.

The Three Faces of Abundance

Folk rituals speak of three Lakshmis, each tied to a moment in the agricultural cycle, represented by three colored rice-paste dolls:

  • Green Lakshmi (Harita Devi)—honored before sowing in Falgun (February-March)
  • Yellow Lakshmi (Swarna Lakshmi)—worshipped when the fields ripen in Ashwin (September-October)
  • Red Lakshmi (Aruna Lakshmi)—celebrated after the harvest in Aghran (November-December)

Together they form a calendar of survival, a rhythm of gratitude that long predates banks and bullion.

Ancient Roots in Sacred Texts

Long before the temples of gold, Lakshmi's story lived in the earth. In the Rigveda (1500–1200 BCE),
she appeared as Shri—not a fully formed deity but a cluster of qualities: radiance, abundance, fertility, auspiciousness. Scholars believe she represents the survival of pre-Aryan indigenous goddess worship, possibly stretching back to the Harappan civilization (circa 5500 BCE).

Archaeological evidence confirms her ancient presence. Her images appear on coins from the Gupta dynasty (4th century CE) and sculptures from Kausambi (3rd century BCE). A small statuette discovered in Pompeii, believed to depict Lakshmi and dating before 79 CE, shows how far her worship had traveled across the ancient world.

The Shadow Twin: Alakshmi

Over centuries, as Brahmanical Hinduism consolidated power, the old harvest goddess with her earthy symbols—the owl, pig's tusk, and Kubera's head—became problematic for elite religion. The solution? Create Alakshmi, her shadow twin—the spirit of poverty, misfortune, and discord.

Even today, before Kojagori Purnima or Diwali, many perform the ritual of Alakshmi Biday ("Farewell to Alakshmi"), driving away the "inauspicious" goddess before welcoming Lakshmi. This wasn't merely religious evolution—it was cultural negotiation, the tension between indigenous agricultural worship and incoming patriarchal traditions.

Yet the older goddess endures quietly in Bengali courtyards, her image drawn in white rice paste, her presence felt in the hum of crickets and the scent of new grain.


Across the Ocean: The Corn Mothers of Mexico

Thousands of miles away and centuries apart, the Aztec civilization in Mexico shaped a remarkably
similar story.

To the Aztecs, corn (maize) was life itself. Their creation myth says that humans were formed from maize dough, molded by the gods. And like Lakshmi's triad of harvest forms, their world too was watched over by three deities of corn—each one mirroring a stage of growth.

The Triadic Corn Cycle

Xilonen ("tender ear of corn")—symbolized young maize, the first shoots of hope. Her name evolved into the modern Mexican Spanish word elote, meaning fresh corn. She was celebrated in July during the Huey Tecuilhuitl festival, when young girls would impersonate the goddess, dancing to bring forth abundance.

Centeótl ("dried maize deity")—the youthful maize god, represented the ripening fields. Portrayed as a young man with yellow body coloring (like ripe corn), he presided over the growing season. Interestingly, some scholars believe Centeótl was originally female but was masculinized as Aztec society became more patriarchal—an echo of similar tensions in India.

Chicomecoátl ("Seven Serpent")—reigned over mature, harvested corn. She was ranked fifth among all Aztec deities by the Spanish friar Bernardino de Sahagún, who documented their culture in the 16th century. The number seven signified luck and creation, while "serpent" referred to the brace roots of mature corn plants that emerge from the stem like small snakes.

Red Earth, Paper Temples, and Sacred Vigils

Chicomecoátl's iconography is distinctive and powerful. Her statues show a woman painted red (like the post-harvest earth), holding ears of maize in both hands, wearing a tall paper headdress called amacalli ("paper house")—a towering structure of brightly colored bark paper decorated with rosettes, symbolizing shelter, abundance, and the granaries where corn was stored.

Her festival, Huey Tozoztli, was held when the crops ripened. Young women carried maize bundles in procession, singing and dancing. Each family saved five ears of corn, wrapping them carefully in cloth like newborn children and placing them in special wicker baskets until the next season. These sacred cobs were never eaten—they were treated as living embodiments of the maize spirits themselves, resting until they would "awaken" for the next planting.

Just as Bengalis stay awake on Kojagori Purnima asking Ko jagorti?, the Aztecs kept vigil through the night during their corn festivals, singing to the goddess and thanking her for life. The parallels are haunting: both traditions demand attention, wakefulness, gratitude. Both understand that abundance requires vigilance.


Parallel Visions of the Divine Feminine

Two civilizations, half a world apart, with no contact between them, arrived at the same profound intuition: that food and fertility are divine, and that womanhood—creative, cyclical, nurturing—embodies that power most naturally.

The parallels read like poetry:

Triadic Structure:

  • Bengal: Three Lakshmis (Green, Yellow, Red) for three harvest phases
  • Mexico: Three corn deities (Xilonen, Centeótl, Chicomecoátl) for three growth stages

Color as Sacred Language:

  • Both use green for growth, yellow/gold for ripening, red for completion and harvest
  • Both associate red with the earth after harvest

Grain, Not Gold:

  • Both offer rice/corn, not precious metals, as the truest wealth
  • Both treat stored grain as sacred, living entities

The Vigil Tradition:

  • Both keep watch through the night under the moon
  • Both ask: "Who is awake?" "Who remembers what feeds us?"

Conflict with Patriarchy:

  • India: The folk harvest goddess becomes "Alakshmi" (inauspicious) as Brahmanical religion rises
  • Mexico: Centeótl possibly shifts from female to male; corn goddesses are subordinated to warrior gods

Evolution from Earth to Temple:

  • Both goddesses expand from harvest deities to broader prosperity/nourishment
  • Both move from rural fields to urban temples, yet retain agricultural symbolism

Even their challenges were alike. In India, as patriarchal religion gained prominence, the rustic grain goddess was refined into a goddess of wealth. In Mexico, as the Aztec empire rose, the maize deities found themselves overshadowed by male warrior gods like Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca. Yet neither culture could erase them entirely—because no empire survives without food.


What This Tells Us: Universal Truths in Human Worship

The story of these goddesses is the story of civilization itself.

When humans first settled and planted seeds, the miracle of growth must have seemed like magic—seeds dying in the earth, then returning as life. Female reproduction offered the closest parallel: the mystery of life emerging from within. To make sense of agricultural transformation, people turned to what they knew: the power of birth, of the feminine, of nurture.

This pattern repeats across the ancient world:

  • Demeter in Greece
  • Ceres in Rome
  • Renenutet in Egypt
  • Dewi Sri in Java and Bali
  • Mae Phosop in Thailand and Laos
  • Chicomecoátl in Mexico
  • Lakshmi in India

All carry the same essence. All remind us that prosperity began not with coins or conquest, but with grain. All represent humanity's attempt to honor the forces that sustain us, to give thanks for the abundance that keeps us alive.

As societies grew more complex, these goddesses evolved. Lakshmi became the guardian of wealth, knowledge, and fortune; Chicomecoátl came to represent nourishment itself—the food, drink, and spirit that sustain humanity. Both moved from fields to temples, yet their roots stayed in the soil.


Echoes in the Modern World

Today, the rituals survive in fragments. In Bengal, women still draw rice-flour alpana footprints to invite Lakshmi home. In rural Mexico, farmers bless their maize before the rains, continuing traditions that predate the Spanish conquest. The gestures are simple, but their meaning is vast: to remember what truly feeds us.

Science may explain the seasons and the soil, but the old rituals teach something different—attention. Staying awake for the goddess is a way of staying awake to life: to the cycles that sustain us, to the fragility of abundance, to the relationship between humans and the earth that feeds them.

Perhaps that is why these traditions feel urgent again in our century of climate crisis. When floods ruin harvests and cities forget their farmers, when food systems break down and we lose touch with the source of our sustenance, the goddess of the harvest returns, asking softly: Ko jagorti?—"Who is awake?"

Who remembers that wealth begins with harvest?
Who stays vigilant to the cycles of planting and reaping?
Who offers gratitude before taking?

The questions are ancient. They are also timeless.


References & Further Reading

On Goddess Lakshmi:

  • Qz.com (2022). The ancient story of goddess Lakshmi—bestower of power, wealth and sovereignty
  • Wikipedia (2025). Lakshmi; Sharada Purnima; Lakshmi Puja
  • World History Encyclopedia (2015). Lakshmi
  • Wisdomlib (2024). Description of Goddess Sri-Lakshmi
  • Temple Purohit. Goddess Lakshmi: Hindu Deity of Wealth, Fortune & Divine Grace

On Kojagori Purnima Traditions:

  • Discovering Kolkata (2018). Why Bengal celebrate Lakshmi Puja on Kojagari Purnima
  • Local Samosa (2024). Kojagari Lakshmi Puja: A Unique Festivity in Bengali Households
  • Slurrp (2024). Kojagori Lakshmi Puja: Peek Into A Bengali Family's Food Traditions

On Aztec Corn Goddesses:

  • Britannica (1998). Chicomecoatl
  • Wikipedia (2025). Chicōmecōātl; Centeōtl
  • Metropolitan Museum of Art. Chicomecoatl goddess - Mexica (Aztec)
  • Mexicolore (2025). Goddess of the month: Chicomecoatl
  • Mythlok (2024). Chicomecoatl: Goddess of Agriculture
  • Art Institute of Chicago. Head of Xilonen, the Goddess of Young Maize
  • Denver Art Museum. Maize Goddess Chicomecoatl

On Comparative Mythology:

  • Wikipedia (2025). Demeter; Mother goddess; History of Shaktism; List of agricultural deities

Closing Note

Across oceans and eras, the same truth whispers through different tongues: that wealth begins with harvest, and worship begins with gratitude. Whether in Bengal's moonlit courtyards or Mexico's maize fields, humanity has always paused to thank the earth before taking its gifts.

The goddess of the harvest never truly left us—she simply waits for us to notice, to stay awake, and to remember what abundance really means.


What are your thoughts on these remarkable parallels? Have you experienced any harvest festivals or agricultural traditions? Share your reflections in the comments below.

 

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