Shock and awe in the world of Jatra

In the Hindu epic Ramayana, Prince Rama of Ayodhya, his wife Sita, and his brother Lakshmana meet Viradha, a ferocious rakshasa (demon), in the dense forests of Dandakaranya. Viradha not only clashes with the brothers but also abducts Sita. This act foreshadows the final few events of the epic. In theatrical adaptations of the Ramayana, Viradha is often portrayed as pure evil.

On the chilly evening of November 26, in the remote village of Ralaba in the Ganjam district of Odisha, a farmer, Bimbadhar Gouda, played Viradha at a Jatra, a form of folk theatre that is popular across Odisha and West Bengal. Instead of bringing a prop to ‘devour’, Gouda had brought a live pig instead. “When he ripped the pig apart, there was a stunned silence in the audience,” recalled Sadasiba Jena, a villager who watched the play that day.

When footage of the incident, seen by a few as an “immersive performance”, surfaced on social media and TV news channels, drama enthusiasts and animal rights activists were enraged.

“Using any live animal or bird in a cultural performance including cinema and drama is illegal without the permission of the Animal Welfare Board of India. There are clear guidelines which prohibit animal cruelty during stage performances. In Ganjam, the theatre groups are probably not aware of the guidelines,” said Biswajit Mohanty, a wildlife expert and secretary, Wildlife Society of Orissa.

Also read | Odisha stage actor held for killing pig during performance, eating its raw meat

In the Odisha Assembly, ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) lawmakers Babu Singh and Sanatan Bijuli demanded that those responsible for the act be held accountable. The actor and the procurer of the pig now face multiple cases under sections pertaining to animal cruelty under the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, and the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, 1960. The case has shone a spotlight on the changing character of Jatra.

Where there are no limits

Jatra is usually performed on an open-air stage with the audience, both men and women, seated on all sides. It dates back to to the rise of Vaishnavism and the Bhakti movement during the 16th century. Back then, devotional songs and dances that were sung and performed by followers of the Bhakti movement, and plays on mythology, captivated people. Over time, social issues became central to Jatras. While Jatras include plays, music, and dance, today, stunts have taken over, in an attempt to make them more “modern” and “commercial”, said various artists and villagers.

On December 12, past midnight in Mancheswar, a village on the outskirts of the State capital Bhubaneswar, a young man lay on stage on a bed of shattered glass under the glare of multi-coloured lights. A large rock was placed on his chest. Suddenly, another actor began hammering the boulder. Despite the sharp glass shards that could have caused serious cuts and wounds, the man who was lying down remained stoic and unscathed. The audience, seated in a sprawling makeshift enclosure, watched in awe.

As the act unfolded, two young women, standing atop massive truck tyres lifted by a group of performers, waved the national flag. The audience rose to their feet. While the actors were to perform a play with social themes, acrobatics and stunts dominated the night and kept everyone spellbound.

“Stunts and ‘item numbers’ have grown in Jatras because the audience wants it. We have no choice but to match the expectations of people,” said Jagannath Bhol, a choreographer of the Rangamal theatre group, based in Bhubaneswar.

In both Ralaba and Mancheswar, the troupes use shock and awe as methods to reinvent themselves and remain relevant. This often happens at the expense of traditional storytelling formats.

“Over the last two decades, TV and films have transformed the entertainment landscape. Today, people can enjoy movies, shows, or dance performances in their living rooms at their convenience. In contrast, Jatra demands an audience that is willing to stay engaged throughout the night. Tsaid Sashidhar Patra, who has been a Jatra hopper for 40 years. “The younger generation, even in rural areas, is increasingly absorbed in (Instragram) Reels. So, Jatra has no option but to reinvent itself to sustain the audience’s interest.”

While Ralaba, a village of 1,400 families of mostly farmers and migrant labourers, is not economically affluent, it is culturally rich. Ralaba takes pride in its theatre group, Rama Bhakta Maruti, which boasts 70-80 active members at any given time. Since 1992, the group has been performing the Ramayana in Ralaba and neighbouring villages. Not just Ralaba; hundreds of villages across Ganjam have theatre groups that are dedicated to performing the Ramayana. Year after year, the residents of these villages watch the annual play with undiminished enthusiasm.

Politics, however, has divided these villages into two factions. In the past, theatre groups aligned with the Congress and the Janata Dal. Over time, loyalties shifted, and the groups stand mostly divided between the Biju Janata Dal and the Bharatiya Janata Party. This rivalry often transforms the traditional Ramayana play into a competitive spectacle known as Badi Ramayana, with each faction striving to draw larger crowds to assert their dominance. Badi Ramayana is staged with the rule that in passion and battle, limits don’t exist, especially in Ganjam district.

“In other parts of the world, a Ramayana play typically concludes within five to six hours. However, in our region, the play goes on for 13 to 14 hours,” says Nila Bhaula, a resident of Ralaba. “When troupes are drawn into competing in the Badi Ramayana, the epic is enacted for days. The actors and the audience remain immersed in the performance and often don’t even take a break.”

In one of the plays, the actor playing Vali, the king of Kishkinda in the Ramayana, lifted bullock cart wheels and cracked a tender coconut on his head. While the audience sat glued to the stage, a rival troupe performed similar stunts nearby. Immediately, the attention of the audience shifted.

“The two plays went on for 40 hours, with neither the actors nor the audience showing any signs of tiredness,” said Bhaula.

To transform or not to transform

The traditional staging of the Ramayana in Ganjam villages has undergone an incredible transformation in the last 15 years. Mythological storytelling has taken a back seat and there is an increased emphasis on sensual dances, acrobatics, gymnastics, and comedy.

It is not just that characters, especially demons and monkeys, often perform dramatic stunts, such as playing with cobras, lifting goats on stage, and killing chickens; the plays also give modern twists to iconic moments in the epic. Jatra performers said Sita sometimes makes her entrance in the bucket of an earthmover or Ravana’s kidnapping of Sita occasionally involves bullets fired in the air instead of a chariot. Across India, Sita is generally portrayed as the ‘ideal’ wife and a soft-spoken woman, but in Ganjam, she sometimes breaks into a frenzied freestyle dance, challenging the Sita on another stage to match her moves, much to the delight of the audience.

Santosh Khuntia, 50, who has played the role of Kaikeyi in Ralaba for over three decades, reflected on the evolution of the epic. “I have seen how the Ramayana has changed on stage. Purists might disapprove, but these reinventions are necessary to keep the people engaged,” he said.

Subrat Kumar Mishra, the manager of Rangamahal, a professional Jatra troupe based in Bhubaneswar, travels across districts with what he calls his “mini-world”. The troupe requires five trucks and two buses to transport equipment, including lights and sound systems, and a diverse team of artists from one location to another.

Seated on a cot behind the Jatra pandal in Mancheswar, Mishra discussed the stiff competition his troupe faces in generating revenue and sustaining the interest of the audience. The performance is meticulously structured to appeal to a wide range of viewers, he said. “The first two hours are dedicated to devotional songs, followed by an episode on Hanuman. Then we play Odia and Hindi film music. Men perform stunts and women wear short costumes and dance. All this caters to people of all age groups,” he said.

But not everyone supports these changes. Basant Dalai, a 60-year-old resident of Ralaba, said, “I don’t subscribe to today’s Ramayana. I stopped watching these shows long ago.”

Similarly, in Bikrampur village of Ganjam, Sakaleswar Roul, popularly known as the “Ramayana director”, has remained steadfast in his traditional approach to staging the epic. “Over the past 40 years, I have directed 27 theatre groups. I have never felt the need to use such distasteful measures to maintain interest,” he said.

Even though Ramayana performances are staged over several days, the community’s enthusiasm has never waned, added Roul. “People take turns staying near the stage, and at no point does the audience count drop to below 250, even between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m. By morning, the crowd quickly returns,” he said.

Though actors move around villages for seven months a year for rehearsals and performances, they don’t receive any remuneration. Most of them are farmers or daily wage earners who enjoy Jatra and perform to uphold the pride of the village. The income generated from Ramayana performances is given to the village fund and is used to support various cultural activities. “For us, this is a passion, not a profession,” Roul said.

From the sidelines to centre stage

While female dance troupes are roped in to perform as actors change clothes during a performance, women in villages don’t have any roles in the Ramayana plays. But this is not the case in Bhubaneswar. Rangamahal boasts a significant number of female artists and dancers who perform in front of large crowds. They are undeterred even when they hear lewd remarks.

“As women, we have to maintain our composure. Jatra audiences, who are predominantly from rural backgrounds, often attend performances in groups and don’t shy away from making vulgar remarks. While it is hurtful, we choose to take it in our stride,” said Sampoorna Swain, who has been acting in Jatra for 20 years.

In Bhubaneswar, Jatra groups and artists are professionals who demand remuneration. Jyotisikha Malla, 19, who was preparing to take the stage with her dance routine, said, “With my father working as a bus conductor, it is tough for my family to manage. I have two sisters and a younger brother to look after. I had to start earning early, and joining a Jatra troupe was the perfect opportunity.”

In the past, women who did Jatra performances were often looked down upon. But times have changed, they said. Anjana Nayak, 45, ran away from home when she was in Class 10. Since then, she has spent 30 years carving out a career in Jatra. She started with just a few hundred rupees a month. Now she earns up to ₹50,000 a month. “I am at the peak of my career,” she said, smiling.

A thriving industry

Jatra is no longer a simple gathering of artists who entertain rural audiences; it has evolved into a thriving industry. People who wish to establish a professional Jatra group need ₹8 to ₹ 10 crore. “There are about 45 major Jatra troupes travelling across Odisha for performances,” said Braja Behari Nayak, a 60-year-old character artist. “Some star performers command annual packages of up to ₹45 lakh, while a celebrated couple is said to be paid ₹60 lakh per year.”

The competition intensifies when multiple troupes perform in Bhubaneswar, elevating the quality of the acts and driving ticket prices as high as ₹1,000 per show. Securing a ticket to watch a Jatra show is a matter of luck. Bollywood celebrities such as Ameesha Patel, Rakhi Sawant, and Shakti Kapoor have also made brief appearances at these shows, boosting the industry.

“Jatra has been nothing short of a cultural revolution in Odisha,” said Naba Kishore Mania, a Jatra critic. “Some proprietors continuously innovate to keep their troupes afloat, and the earnings of certain Jatra stars rival those of top Odia film actors. It is not uncommon for Odia movie stars to step onto the Jatra stage, both to refine their acting skill and earn a lucrative paycheck.”

However, some of these radical transformations of the folk art are tarnishing Jatra’s reputation and alienating loyal Jatra enthusiasts. Unlike earlier times, some families now hesitate to attend Jatra shows together.

Bapi Panda, a leader of the Jatra Artists Association, said, “A few greedy individuals are giving us a bad name. Every art form must evolve to remain relevant, but not at the expense of its core values.”.

satyasundar.b@thehindu.co.in