Odisha Mystiques: Inside Danda Jatra

I was standing there, just another face in the crowd, completely mesmerized by what was unfolding before me. Curious, I turned to someone nearby and asked, "Why are they doing this?"

"They're Danduas," the person explained. "These are the devout individuals who perform in the Jatra. This festival is called Danda Jatra."

Just then, Santosh, who was trying hard to recall something, interrupted, "Ma'am, what do you people call 'Danda' in English?"

I paused, not quite sure, when suddenly, he remembered. "Punishment! In Odia, we call it 'Danda.' That's what this Jatra is about—punishing yourself."

In just one day, I witnessed a man running across burning coals, another standing upside down on a fire pyre, and yet another balancing on two swords, while being escorted through the village by two logs. Naturally, I wondered, why are they punishing themselves?

These intense acts are part of Danda Jatra, a festival that’s all about deep devotion and penance. The people performing these rituals, known as Danduas, aren’t just trying to hurt themselves—they believe that by enduring such hardships, they’re purifying their souls and earning spiritual merit. It’s their way of showing unwavering faith and seeking blessings from the divine.

To them, this isn’t just about physical pain. It’s a spiritual journey. Each act of endurance is a step toward overcoming worldly desires and connecting with something greater. It’s a powerful tradition that leaves a lasting impression on everyone who witnesses it.

One popular story takes us back to Satyayuga, where a demon named Dandadanab sought revenge after learning about the brutal death of his parents. With the blessings of Brahma, he defeated the gods and was only vulnerable to Lord Vishnu. Dandadanab’s downfall came when, after tricking the gods into jumping into a fire pit, he laughed so heartily that it caused his death—fulfilling a prophecy that his laughter would lead to his demise. The fire from Lord Shiva’s third eye freed his soul and the gods returned to heaven. Some believe that Danda Jatra commemorates this event.

Another tale links the festival to Lord Shiva, who was cursed after revealing himself in a vulnerable state following Sati's death. To lift the curse, Shiva performed Danda rituals. Additionally, it's believed that the 13 sons of Indra and Varuna, cursed by Shiva, had to undergo Danda rituals to cleanse themselves of their sins. Interestingly, today’s Danda Jatra is performed by 13 Danduas, possibly mirroring this ancient story.

Historically, Danda Jatra also has ties to the rise of Buddhism, where Shaivites began public worship of Shiva and Shakti in open spaces, which eventually evolved into the festival. In Ganjam, the festival uniquely blends the worship of Shiva and Shakti, with performances that depict characters like Durga and Kali, bringing together people from all castes in a vibrant celebration of devotion.

This festival kicks off at the beginning of Chaitra and continues until Sankranti, culminating in the Meru Yatra or Jhammu Yatra. What makes the Danda Jatra in Ganjam so unique is its combined worship of Shiva and Shakti. During this period, the Danduas, or Bhoktas—who are always male—live a strictly pious life, abstaining from meat and fish while performing Danda Nacha to please the gods. They carry out rituals like Pani Danda (in water), Dhuli Danda (with sand), and Agni Danda (with fire), all with the intention of ensuring global welfare through their devotion. (refer to the images)

I was absolutely overwhelmed by the Danduas' commitment and the sheer passion they brought to the Jatra. It was clear that this wasn’t just a ritual for them—it was a profound act of devotion. The crowd around me, though they witness these rituals every year, seemed just as moved by the dedication of the Danduas. We all gathered around, drawn in like bees to honey. It made me reflect on the incredible power of cultural traditions like this, and how they have this unique ability to unite us, regardless of how familiar or new they may be.

Amidst all the acts of bravado, my eyes couldn’t help but notice the stunning handwoven textiles that were woven into every part of the rituals. Whether it was a Dandua standing on swords, wearing an Ikat Kumbha-bordered sari draped as a dhoti, or another carrying a sari on his head while walking across burning coals, these textiles were everywhere. They were part of the tradition, adding another layer of meaning to each act. It was amazing to see how these beautiful, handwoven fabrics were so seamlessly integrated into such powerful cultural expressions.

The priests were dressed in their traditional Jodo, a two-part ensemble that they wear on all auspicious days. Seeing them in these garments, with their rich cultural significance, really added to the sacred atmosphere of the occasion. The Jodo is a symbol of tradition and reverence, reflecting the deep-rooted customs that are so central to the rituals of the day.

You know, it wasn’t just the Danduas wearing the textiles that the community created. I was surprised to see that many people in the crowd were also sporting these beautiful pieces. Contrary to what I had assumed from my experiences with other clusters—where I often felt that artisans didn’t wear their own creations—this community was different. The crowd cheering for the Danduas was decked out in stunning pasapalli designs, Kargil pata, and Khandua pata saris. It was clear that these textiles were a source of pride for everyone, not just the artisans.

It’s tough seeing the government numbers showing a decline in the number of weavers in India. But then I see these communities in action, and it really restores my faith. They show me that handlooms aren’t just a thing of the past—they’re very much a part of our present and our future too.

The communities really take immense pride in their creations. They even offer cut pieces of ikat handwoven saris to the gods, which symbolizes how deeply rooted these textiles are in their lives. It’s a beautiful way of showing that these handwoven pieces are more than just fabric—they’re an integral part of their everyday existence and spiritual life.

The thoughts expressed here are based on the personal experiences of the author.

~Written by

Pallavi

Founder

Intrique