Subrat Mishra, Bhubaneswar, 28 June 2025
It all begins on the auspicious day of Devasnana Purnima, when the divine Trinity—Shri Jagannath, his brother Shri Balabhadra, and sister Devi Subhadra—seeking respite from the scorching summer heat, decide to indulge in a bit of water sport. They take a luxurious bath with one hundred and eight kalashas (pots) of holy, consecrated, perfumed, cold water drawn from Swarna Kupa followed by a soothing anointment of fragrant sandalwood paste.
To add to the merriment, they adorn themselves in Gajanana Besha or Hathi Besha (Elephant Attire) and revel through the afternoon. Then, as expected, the sniffles and sneezes begin to build—slowly at first—culminating in a full-blown fever (viral, perhaps). Now enters the Rajavaidya, who conducts a few clinical examinations and promptly dispatches the ailing deities to the Anasara Ghara—the temple’s sacred isolation ward.
Goodbye Ratna Singhasana, and hello infirmary bed; farewell Chhappan Bhog (fifty-six-course meal), and welcome a convalescent diet of bland, semi-liquid food and bitter, unpalatable Dashamula (herbal medicine). This quarantine begins on Devasnana Purnima and continues until Ashadha Amavasya, when the deities recover and emerge with Naba Joubana—the radiance of renewed youth.
Meanwhile, outside the isolation chamber, life continues. Even in the face of divine infirmity, the universe marches on. While the main deities retreat to rest, their sacred substitutes take charge. These are the Patti Dias—Pattachitra paintings representing the deities: Basudeva for Balabhadra, Bhubaneswari for Subhadra, and Narayana for Jagannath—brought ceremoniously from the homes of the Chitrakaras (traditional artists).
The Mahajanas also contribute their own substitute deities: Dola Gobinda, Rama, and Narasimha for Balabhadra; Sridevi and Bhudevi for Subhadra; and Madana Mohan and Krishna for Jagannath. These seven figures, along with the three Patti Dias, together form the Dashavatara Thakura. They are ritually bathed in Panchamrita and offered Vallabha Bhoga. During the Anasara period, all daily temple rituals are conducted before these ten sacred representations.
Back in the Anasara Ghara, the main deities are lovingly rejuvenated and then decked in Naba Joubana Besha (Youthful Adornment) on Amavasya, signifying their complete recovery—healed, refreshed, and resplendent. As soon as the Bahuda Bije (ritual return) of the Dashavatara is performed, devotees, having waited with eager longing, are once again blessed with the divine Darshan—this time of the rejuvenated deities, newly painted and vibrantly adorned.
After fifteen days of seclusion—away from their devotees, rituals, and beloved delicacies—the Lords and Devi grow understandably restless, perhaps even a bit weary of convalescence. And what better place to visit than their summer garden retreat, Shri Gundicha Mandira—their birthplace. This temple, named after Gundicha Devi, the Queen of King Indradyumna (who commissioned the divine idols), houses the Maha Bedi—the sacred platform where, in a secluded chamber, the celestial sculptor Vishwakarma, disguised as an aged carpenter, once carved the idols from divine Daru (sacred neem wood).
Then arrives the great day: Ashadha Shukla Dwitiya—the second day of the waxing fortnight in the month of Ashadha. The Supreme Lord, accompanied by His divine siblings, embarks on this momentous journey—ensconced in three magnificent, colour-drenched, towering chariots. The Gajapati Maharaja himself sweeps the chariot floor with a broom with golden handle, exuding the aroma of humility and service.Shri Shankaracharya pays homage. Zealous servitors surround the chariots. Thousands of devotees pull them forward with fervour and faith. The Juggernaut rolls on amidst the thunderous rhythm of drums and cymbals, the resounding call of conch shells, and a jubilant sea of humanity—singing, dancing, crying, and rejoicing in divine madness—for a glimpse of their beloved Jaga Kalia (the Dusky One), Chaka Dola (the Round-Eyed Lord), Bada Thakura (the Great God).
Just an ordinary tale, one might say—of catching a cold, isolating, recovering, stepping out, and going on a leisurely trip. Happens to many. But it becomes extraordinary, ethereal—even magical—when such worldly afflictions are attributed to the Supreme Being. Why is the Divine humanized? Why is the all-powerful God removed from His bejwelled throne and laid on the sickbed? Why is He tended to with care, nursed back to health, and then paraded in a triumphant procession?
Behind these rituals lies the deepest truth of all: a great, timeless love story—exalting, ecstatic, rapturous—between the human and the Divine. How else could the finite human perceive, let alone love, the Nirguna, Nirakara, Anadi, Ananta, Param Brahma—the eternal, infinite Super Consciousness beyond time, space, form, quality and thought?
Yes, the human mind must perceive the Divine in its own image, just as the Divine once imagined Man in His. Perfection can be admired—even worshipped—but never truly loved. To be adored, to be held close, to be sung to and wept for, God must descend—into form, into frailty, into feeling. The Unmanifest must manifest. The Infinite must accept limit. The Formless must wear a sublime face with large, hypnotic, circular eyes—for Love demands it. And Love, ultimately, transcends even the Divine.
Jagannatha Swami, Nayana Pathagami, Bhavatu Me.
