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How Purulia’s Chhau dance is changing, and what it’s losing along the way
Though West Bengal’s mask dance got UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage tag in 2010, Chhau troupes find themselves walking the tightrope between keeping it pure and changing with the times
“Shun shun Jhumaera bhai / Kene tora bujhis nai he? / Kene tora bujhis nai — / Dekho dhire dhire Jhumaer harai jachhe. / Haikye Jhumaer gah he, Chhau nache! /Hamader Jhumaerei Puruillar maan achhe! / Haikye Jhumaer gah he, Chhau nache! (Listen, listen, O Jhumaera brother, / Why don’t you understand? / Why don’t you understand — / Look, slowly, slowly, our Jhumaer is fading...
“Shun shun Jhumaera bhai / Kene tora bujhis nai he? / Kene tora bujhis nai — / Dekho dhire dhire Jhumaer harai jachhe. / Haikye Jhumaer gah he, Chhau nache! /Hamader Jhumaerei Puruillar maan achhe! / Haikye Jhumaer gah he, Chhau nache! (Listen, listen, O Jhumaera brother, / Why don’t you understand? / Why don’t you understand — / Look, slowly, slowly, our Jhumaer is fading away. / Hey now! Jhumaer is sung, and Chhau takes the floor! / It is our Jhumaer that holds the pride of Purulia!”
This lament, composed by Samiran Mahato in a regional dialect of Purulia, poignantly captures the decline of tradition in the Chhau dance amid the rise of contemporary adaptations. For centuries, this semi-classical dance form, practised primarily in parts of Adivasi-dominated areas of Purulia district of West Bengal, Mayurbhanj in Odisha and Seraikela in Jharkhand maintained its pristine tradition.
Trained under gurus for years, dancers painstakingly learnt how to embody gods, demons, and warriors through delicate moves, leaps, and expressions hidden beneath elaborate papier-mâché masks. Each village had its own mythological story to tell through dance drama. The narratives of the drama were conveyed through Jhumur songs, a form of folk music known for their rich lyrical and literary content.
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But over the past two decades, the world around Chhau has changed even as it got the intangible cultural heritage tag from UNESCO in 2010. As fewer young people commit to its rigorous, often unpaid demands, and as traditional arts face competition from modern entertainment, many Chhau troupes find themselves caught between purity and popularity. Others walk the tightrope deftly, preserving traditions while embracing new elements.
In Purulia’s red dry dusty soil, as the sun dip low behind sal trees, the drums still echo with the steps of Chhau dancers, but the rhythm is no longer quite the same. The traditional music instruments for a Chhau performance used to be shehnai (reed pipes) along with dhol (cylindrical drum) and dhumsa (kettle drum), recalled Ranjit Mahato of Biswakarma Chhau Nritya Dal of Bhalika village of Purulia. Today, electronic musical instruments are increasingly replacing their traditional counterparts, he said, sitting outside his mud house.

The demand for flashy stuff is forcing the Chhau groups to follow trends, even if it means compromising with traditions. Photo: Jayanta Shaw
Popular Hindi and Bengali film songs are weaved into storylines, which are no longer limited to episodes from epics such as Ramayana and Mahabharata and local folklores, Mahato said, while speaking about the changing face of Chhau tradition. The dance form, combining martial and folk traditions, originated some 800 years ago in Mayurbhanj in Odisha. Gradually, it spread to Adivasi areas of West Bengal and Jharkhand.
The dance form, according to some scholars, derived its name from the Sanskrit word ‘chhaya,’ meaning shadow or image. This interpretation aligns with the dance’s use of masks, which create shadows and visual illusions. Others suggest alternative origins, such as ‘chhauni’ (military camp) or ‘chadma’ (disguise). The current form of Chhau leans more toward fusion and adaptation, shaped by changing audience preferences, according to Mahato. “They just want movement, energy. Story doesn’t matter so much now,” he said.
To survive, dance troupes are forced to innovate. Costumes are lighter, music faster, stories modernised. Mythological battles are now shared over reels and shorts, and performances staged in city auditoriums under neon lights. The dance is not merely a ritual anymore. It has evolved truly into a performing art.
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They now dance to remixed devotional tracks, tell the story of climate change using Chhau movements, and even collaborate with the government to promote official schemes and programmes. Not everyone is upset with the change. To sustain, Chhau must reach a greater audience and not just to our own villagers, said Biren Kalindi, another popular performer from Purulia.
He said it is because of this adaptation that the number of Chhau troupe did not decline in the last few years. There are more than 900 government-recognised dance groups in Purulia. Each group has 35 to 40 members. Out of them around 20 are dancers. The rest include singers, musicians and technical staff.
The groups perform throughout the year these days as demand for their shows has increased, said Kalindi, who owns a dance troupe called Biren Kalindi Chhau Nritya Party. The group was formed in 2004.
Until a decade and half ago, the Chhau used to be mainly performed in rural settings in Adivasi areas during the Bengali month of Chaitra (March-April), coinciding with the Gajan festival, he recalled. “Things have changed for the better now. On an average, each group stages around 200 performances in a year,” he added.

The rise in the number of shows has brought little in terms of monetary benefit, pushing many Chhau performers to seek alternative livelihoods to sustain their families. Photo: Jayanta Shaw
Despite the boom, it has brought little in terms of monetary benefit, pushing many Chhau performers to seek alternative livelihoods to sustain their families. “Performance fees vary from Rs18,000 to Rs 35,000, depending on factors like the troupe’s popularity and the distance they need to travel,” he explained. “Once the amount is divided among the 35 to 40 members, after covering expenses, each performer is left with only a meagre share,” Kalindi said.
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Prices of a mask range between Rs 2,000 to Rs 7,000 and costume Rs 5,000 to Rs 7,000. All dancers, typically 15 to 20 in a group, are required to wear these elaborate outfits. “A mask generally lasts for 10 to 15 performances, while costumes usually need replacing after one or two years,” he added.
The West Bengal government provides a monthly stipend of Rs 1,000 to each registered performer. “The fee for each show should be at least Rs 90,000. People are willing to pay more than that for filmy dance performances and musical nights, but not for Chhau,” he rued. “Unless performance fees are raised, it will be difficult for anyone to take up Chhau as a viable occupation. Right now, we pursue it out of passion, not as a profession.”
The demand for flashy stuff is forcing the Chhau groups to follow trends, even if it means compromising with traditions. “We are not entirely abandoning the tradition,” insisted Ranjit Mahato. “We’re evolving it. Otherwise, the tradition will die out.”
In his choreography, ancient mythological characters are given modern relevance. Shiva doesn’t just perform the tandava, he now fights pollution. During Covid-19 pandemic, he utilised his art form to create awareness about the need to stay home to battle the virus, choreographing an eight-minute dance drama titled ‘Coronasur’ (demon Corona). Adaptation should not come at the cost of the tradition’s core essence, opined Samiran Mahato. “If you remove Jhumur songs from Chhau, you strip it of its very soul,” he added.