By Arindam Ganguly, OP
As Odisha is celebrating Raja, the beloved three-day festival that heralds the monsoon and celebrates womanhood, a familiar nostalgia returns. The sight of decorated swings, the aroma of freshly baked ‘poda pitha’, the excitement of new clothes, and the laughter of cousins gathered under one roof remain etched in the memories of generations of Odias.
Yet Raja today is also a festival in transition. There are fewer village swings, children spend more time on screens than in courtyards, and celebrations increasingly unfold through social media posts and digital greetings. But beneath these shifts, the soul of Raja continues to thrive, carried forward through memory, tradition, and the women who keep its spirit alive. To understand this evolving celebration, Sunday POST spoke to women from diverse walks of life. Their voices reveal a festival that is changing in form but not fading in essence.
Tradition, togetherness, and the swing of memory
Senior Officer, Corporate Communication at IMFA, Debamitra Mishra recalls Raja as a festival rooted in family rituals and quiet anticipation. “Some of my earliest memories of Raja are deeply tied to family. Preparations would begin well in advance. I would go shopping with my mother, while my grandmother and mother prepared different varieties of poda pitha and other traditional delicacies.” Her grandfather, she remembers, would take charge of setting up the swing. “He would arrange the poles, ropes, and everything needed.
By the night before Raja, the swing would be ready, and it often stayed up until Rath Yatra.” For her, these rituals remain the heart of Raja, simple, meaningful, and deeply emotional. Reflecting on change, she notes: “It is encouraging to see more people understand Raja’s essence as a celebration of womanhood.
But somewhere, the authenticity of celebrating together has reduced.” She also observes the influence of social media: “There is often a need to document every moment. While it spreads awareness, it sometimes takes away from simply being present.” Yet certain traditions remain unchanged. “Eating poda pitha is non-negotiable.
Raja feels incomplete without it. I also make it a point to have Raja Pana and wear traditional attire whenever possible.” Over time, her understanding of Raja has deepened. “As a child, it was about swings and food. Now I understand its deeper meaning, it connects menstruation with nature, fertility, creation, and renewal.” And at its core, she says: “Raja is about respect—for women, for nature, and for life itself.”
A celebration of wom anhood and memory
VJ and content creator Jyotsna Sahu describe Raja as a cherished reminder of womanhood. Her earliest memories are intimate and vivid: “My grandmother would wake me before sunrise for a haldi bath made with fresh herbs, and my mother would dress me in new clothes she stitched herself. Those mornings felt magical.” But she feels modern life has softened the festival’s simplicity. “We have lost the luxury of slowing down.
Days once spent on swings, sharing pitha, and laughing with family have become rare.” Still, some traditions endure. “Wearing new clothes during Raja instantly takes me back home. It is simple, but deeply meaningful.” For her, Raja carries a larger message. “It is a celebration of menstruation, womanhood, and the strength that nurtures life. It teaches us to honour what nature intended.”
And what she treasures most is its nostalgia: “The smell of pitha, the sound of laughter around swings, and the feeling that time slows down for a few days.” Even far from Odisha, she carries Raja with her. “Home is where Raja begins, but not where it ends. I once wore a saree on Hanoi Train Street, carrying a piece of Odisha with me.”
A childhood wrapped in Summer holidays
Teacher Sushree Gayatree describes Raja as a collection of some of her happiest memories.
“Growing up, Raja always coincided with summer vacations, making it the most exciting time of the year.” At her grandparents’ home, celebrations were elaborate—new clothes, alta, mehendi, handmade pithas, and swings set up indoors or on terraces. Food, she says, defi ned the festival: “The aroma of freshly prepared pithas filling the house is something I still cherish.”
She also highlights a deeper belief: “We were told that Mother Earth rests during Raja, so the soil should not be disturbed. It taught us respect for nature.”
A cultural and social reflection Social worker Anandita Mishra remembers a time when Raja was deeply communal rather than digital. “It was not a social media attraction. It was a personal, inter-community celebration built on togetherness.” She observes a gradual fading of traditions—fewer swings at home, declining folk songs, and lost culinary practices.
Yet she continues tontinues to uphold rituals: “We still observe Sa ja Baja, Pahili Raja, Bhumi Dahana, and Basumati Snana. We set up swings at home and enjoy traditional food.” “We Sa i For her, Raja car car eaning: ries a deeper meaning: “It is an ode to the beauty of the menstrual cycle—celebrating creation, renewal, and life itself.” She also highlights traditional eco-friendly practices as “wisdom of the past.” But she warns: “Raja is slowly being reduced to dressing up and social media photoshoots.” Anandita’s celebration remains rooted: “I celebrate by listening to elders, sharing stories, and swinging under trees. That is Raja to me,” she concludes.
More than a festival
As Odisha embraces modernity, Raja continues to evolve. Swings may be fewer, celebrations more digital, and life faster than before. Yet the essence of Raja remains untouched. For the women who carry its memories and meanings, Raja is not just a festival—it is identity, belonging, and continuity.
It lives in stories passed across generations, in food prepared with care, in rituals quietly preserved, and in the laughter that returns every monsoon. Raja will continue to bloom with every rain, reminding Odisha of life, renewal, and womanhood itself.
Raja across oceans
Odisha-born NRI Swagatika Mohanty, now in California, reflects on distance and longing. “Living away from Odisha has made me cherish Raja even more. I miss the smell of rain-soaked soil and village celebrations.” She recalls childhood joy: “We wore new clothes, enjoyed swings, sang songs, and shared pitha with neighbours. The whole community came alive.”
While traditions have faded, she continues to preserve them abroad: “We celebrate with our Odia community, cook traditional food, and share stories so children stay connected to their roots.” For her, Raja is identity itself: “It represents nature, womanhood, fertility, and cultural heritage.”
COVER Stars speak Actress Sadyasnata Pattanaik, from Chicago, said: “Growing up, Raja was my favourite festival. As the oldest daughter, I rarely felt spoiled, but Raja was the one time each year I did. At eight, I didn’t understand its meaning.
When I asked, “Mama, why can’t I go into the puja room?” or “Why can’t I shower for two days?” she avoided answering.” In course of time, Sadyasnata realised the significance of the festival. “At 10, I learned the festival’s significance. In Odisha, when girls reach puberty, they undergo a ritual: they discard the clothes from their first menstruation, take a ceremonial bath, and spend three days in seclusion.
They wear kajal for protection and cannot touch or look at men. After a second bath on the fourth day, they re-enter the home. Though the restrictions ease after the first cycle, the stigma of impurity lingers. Odisha is also one of the few places that celebrate menstruation as a source of life,” she shared. “Raja remains my favourite festival—the rare time menstruation is honoured rather than shamed.
There is pride in being compared to Bhoomi Devi, along with new clothes, makeup, and food. It is the one festival I hope to share with my future children, girls and boys alike,” she signs off.
Students’ perspectives
MBBS student Anshruta Pattojoshi from Bhubaneswar recalls Raja as a festival of sisterhood and togetherness. She remembers days filled with laughter—applying mehendi, watching films, dressing up, swinging in turns, and sharing traditional food. For her, Raja remains a quiet but powerful celebration of womanhood and bonding.
Another student from Bhubaneswar, associates Raja with childhood rituals and cultural pride. “My grandmother would make us wear alta and mehendi, dress in Kadali Pattua, and enjoy poda pitha.” But she also expresses concern: “With increasing Western influence and English education, many of us feel disconnected from our own culture.” She believes Raja is often misunderstood today. “Many see it as just a holiday rather than a cultural celebration.” For her, preserving awareness is essential: “Otherwise, we risk losing the depth of one of the world’s oldest living civilisations.”
