Editor's Note ✍🏻
The last few weeks have been the most tumultuous the world has seen in quite a while. In fact, the third decade of the 21st century has been about conflict and genocide, primarily. War doesn’t seem so far-fetched now, does it? Where did we go wrong? Because a lot of these wars have the words ‘civilisation’, ‘our people’, ‘immigrants’, and ‘our land’ thrown into them. A lot of these have cultural connotations. A lot of history seems to be unknown to a vast majority of the world leaders. We see a lot of territorial aggression. And no one’s ready to budge.
Because everyone is quick to show the world that it is the ‘war of words’ more than anything else. Perception of winning matters. Back in the day, it would take days for news to reach people, especially during a catastrophe. These days, it’s hard to separate fact from fiction. By the time news reaches social media, it is heavily laden with ‘Chinese whispers’. Maybe that’s why the world leaders think it punitive to take to social media to announce their next move.
In the process, there’s no time to reflect on anything. Expletives are thrown for the whole world to read; new threats come in various forms, and they are as direct as they can be. We consume it, react to it, and forget about it after plugging our phones in to charge overnight. It’s the same story day in and day out. Before long, everything is conveniently forgotten. There is a certain impatience that defines our present moment. We read quickly, respond quickly, move quickly—from one idea to another, from one narrative to the next. In this accelerated rhythm, knowledge risks becoming immediate but shallow, accessible yet unexamined.
The Summer Edition of Paricharcha pauses against this tide. This edition reflects on what it means to engage with culture and history with patience, depth, and care. It invites us to reconsider the processes through which knowledge is produced—not as fragments consumed in passing, but as inquiries shaped over time through scholarship, practice, and lived experience.
The essays in this edition move across disciplines and registers, yet remain connected by a shared commitment to depth. From historiography and architecture to cultural policy and anthropological inquiry, each contribution gestures towards a more attentive way of knowing. In remembering Hermann Kulke, we acknowledge a scholar whose work exemplified this ethic of slow, rigorous engagement. His contributions to the historiography of Odisha reshaped the understanding of Jagannath traditions, kingship, and regional identity—not through sweeping claims, but through careful, sustained scholarship.
This edition also honours the recipients of the Sahitya Akademi Award from Odisha, whose literary contributions continue to enrich the region's intellectual and cultural life. Literature, perhaps more than any other form, embodies the spirit of slow knowledge. In recognising these writers, we celebrate not only their achievements but also the enduring value of language as a space of thought and imagination.
Across essays on temple architecture, living traditions such as Ghoda Nacha, and the role of cultural policy in shaping public life, this edition engages with culture in its multiple forms—material and intangible, institutional and lived. It also does not shy away from examining the tensions within culture, including how social structures like caste continue to shape experiences and exclusion. At the same time, the issue raises important questions about responsibility: how we interpret, represent, and engage with heritage ethically in a rapidly changing world. These are not questions with easy answers. They require precisely the kind of slow, thoughtful engagement that this edition seeks to foreground.
Paricharcha remains, at its core, a space for such engagement—a forum where ideas are not hurried to conclusion, but allowed to unfold. In bringing together diverse voices and perspectives, it seeks to sustain a culture of conversation that is reflective rather than reactive. In a season often associated with stillness and pause, this Summer Edition offers not an escape from thought, but a return to it.
Kabi Samrat Upendra Bhanja As Purusha Saraswati
In ancient Kalinga, the region of Ghumusara was known as a revered Tantra Kshetra—a sacred land shaped by mystical traditions and esoteric practices. Under the Bhanja dynasty, it flourished under the spiritual guidance of their Kula Devi, known as Byaghra Devi. In local belief, she is often linked with Bak-Devi, a fierce yet wise form of Goddess Saraswati, embodying both raw tantric power and refined knowledge. This rich cultural setting forms the backdrop to the life of the legendary poet Upendra Bhanja, whose journey blends divine intervention with literary brilliance.
Legend speaks of a pivotal moment in his youth that changed the course of his life. While traveling through his kingdom, Upendra Bhanja encountered a tantric practitioner performing Shaba Sadhana—an intense yet precarious ritual that invokes primal Shakti by meditating atop a corpse to obtain divine boons. The practitioner succeeded in summoning the deity but could not withstand the force, collapsing before completing the ritual.
Seizing the moment, Upendra Bhanja stepped in and completed the ritual. When the Goddess appeared, he did not seek power or kingship of Kalinga. Instead, he asked for Bak-Shakti—the gift of speech, rhythm, and eloquence. Blessed by the Goddess, Upendra Bhanja transformed into “Purusha Saraswati,” embodying divine wisdom and mastery over language.
The cover artwork reflects this divine identity. Upendra Bhanja is shown in Lalitasana, seated with grace on a traditional Ganjami wooden throne, grounding the image in local craft traditions. Departing from typical royal imagery, he holds a veena in one hand and a lekhani in the other—symbols of music and writing. This visual echoes the iconography of Goddess Saraswati, affirming him as both her vessel and a master of the literary arts.
- Rudra Narayan Dash
