Marbat Festival of Nagpur: Burning Effigies That Define a City’s Spirit

thenewsdirt
Aug 21
6 min read

In the heart of central India’s Vidarbha region, Nagpur wakes to a day of striking pageantry each year. Colossal effigies, woven from bamboo and clay, wind through the city’s narrow streets as locals beat drums and sing.

These effigies, the Marbats, represent all manner of evil and misfortune, only to be set ablaze at the festival’s end. The Marbat festival falls on the day after Pola (a harvest celebration for farm animals) and blends ancient agrarian rites with historical protest. Thousands gather to watch the fiery conclusion, confident that burning these figures will purge the past year of its ills.

The event unites farmers, city residents and visitors alike, making it a vivid expression of local culture and faith.

Origins of the Marbat Festival

The Marbat festival’s roots lie in Nagpur’s rural past. Historians and community elders say it began in the late 19th century as a simple peasant ritual.

On Pola, farmers would place clay idols of pests and demons around their homes.

On the following day, Tanha Pola they burned these idols in public as a way to drive away insects and “unwanted evil” from their fields. Over time, this practice turned into a city-wide spectacle. One legend links the black Kali Marbat effigy to Queen Baka Bai of the Bhonsle dynasty.

In local memory, her agreement with the British was seen as a betrayal, so the giant black Marbat came to symbolise popular anger at colonial power. Simultaneously, the yellow Pili Marbat was said to represent the British colonial regime itself.

Researchers note that under British rule, the Marbat procession was actually a covert gathering of the youth, a way to unite people against colonial rule under the cover of a religious event. By the time India gained independence, the Marbat tradition was firmly woven into Nagpur’s cultural calendar.

Neesha Jadhav, a local schoolteacher who has researched the festival, explains that these stories highlight how the community used ritual to voice dissent. As she puts it, the effigies “painted a vivid picture of the region’s struggle” against hardship.

Over the decades, the Marbat custom persisted through every crisis. Even during the late 1800s plague outbreaks and the 1920s communal unrest, Nagpur’s residents say the festival continued uninterrupted. By the mid-20th century, the city of Nagpur (the cultural heart of Vidarbha) had adapted these origins into an annual event praised for its unique local heritage.

The Marbat Effigies

At the centre of the festival are the Marbats themselves. A Marbat is typically a tall female-shaped effigy, brightly decorated with cloth and paint to represent negative forces.

Traditionally, there were two main figures, Kali Marbat (black) and Pili Marbat (yellow). These effigies are enormous, roughly 14 feet high for the Kali and up to 18–20 feet for the Pili.

Each year, they are crafted over many months on a bamboo-and-wooden framework layered with clay, turmeric and cloth. The Tarhane Teli community (local oil-pressers) is responsible for building the Yellow Marbat each year, while shopkeepers near Nehru Putla Square build the Black Marbat.

In recent decades, two more figures have been added. A Laal Marbat (red) and a Bhuri Marbat (brown) now join the procession, introduced to highlight additional societal ills.

Communities across Nagpur also make smaller effigies called Badgyas. These male or animal figures are built to comment on current events. They often carry placards with written slogans or satirical messages about crime, corruption or other problems. In the weeks of preparation, thousands of rupees and dozens of helpers are invested.

Reporters note that artisans use everything from jute and thread to saree cloth to outfit the Marbats.

One Times of India report observes that crafting the 18-foot Yellow Marbat alone takes four to five months of dedicated work by the community. When finished, each figure stands like a giant puppet ready for its public debut.

Procession and Ritual Burning

When Tanha Pola dawns, the Marbats begin their journey. Early on, the Yellow and Black Marbats are carried from their home areas toward Nehru Putla Square, the traffic circle in the old city.

The two meet there. The Black Marbat holds court at the square, and first the Badgyas arrive to ‘greet’ it.

When the Yellow Marbat finally joins the group, a grand procession through the city’s narrow lanes begins. Villagers and city folk follow, beating drums and chanting slogans. One typical chant heard on the streets is “Ida pida gheun jaa ge Marbat” (roughly, “take all this suffering and go, Marbat”), as the crowd bids the effigies to carry away illness and grief. The march covers roughly 6.5 km.

In the evening, the festival reaches its climax. The Burning of the Marbats takes place at two traditional spots. The black Kali Marbat is set alight at a nearby temple (the Harihar Mandir) while the yellow Pili Marbat is burned on a small hill by Naik Lake.

All the smaller Badgyas and any extra Marbats are also burned in the neighbourhood where they stand.

Witnesses say the fireball and smoke are a powerful sight, and many devotees insist that watching the Marbats turn to ash truly purges bad luck from their lives. One long-time resident, Vivek Bawankar, says plainly: “I strongly believe that Marbat takes away all the evil and social problems along with it.”

The days before the procession are also highly ritualised. From the moment each Marbat is installed, local families treat it with reverence. People make daily offerings of fruit, coconut and flowers, and some families sponsor puja (prayer) ceremonies.

Mandira Neware, who leads annual heritage walks on the festival, notes that many women prepare offerings near the effigies because they consider the occasion auspicious.

She explains that when both the Yellow and Black Marbats finally meet at the city square, “the day when both Marbats converge… is particularly memorable.” In a striking custom linked to legend, several parents even bring infants to symbolically ‘breastfeed’ at the Kali Marbat, invoking the story of Putana (the mythic demoness) as a sign of blessing.

Cultural Significance Today

Today, the Marbat Festival is celebrated as a distinctive cultural event unique to Nagpur. The Maharashtra tourism department describes it as “a distinctive festival… showcasing a fascinating blend of tradition, culture, and social commentary.”

In fact, Nagpur is generally regarded as the only city in India to observe this particular festival, and it has become a matter of local pride.

State tourism materials explain that Marbat Utsav is officially observed on the second day of Pola and is centred in Nagpur’s Itwari district. The main festivities draw thousands of people from across Vidarbha and neighbouring areas.

In recent years, the festival has been openly embraced as a forum for public expression. Newspapers note that the Badgyas and even some Marbats are crafted to comment on current issues, from natural disasters to politics, making the parade a form of street theatre.

Government officials and tour guides now include Marbat in the city’s heritage tours, and the Nagpur police publish traffic advisories to handle the crowds. Each September, the city government officially worships the completed effigies for a few days leading up to the procession. As one report puts it, the Marbat has come to represent “the eradication of social evils” in the city’s collective imagination.

Most residents see Marbat as both a blessing and a celebration. It reinforces bonds among farming families and tradespeople, while also reinforcing Nagpur’s identity as the “Orange City” with a unique folklore.

Year after year, the festival brings together the city’s rural hinterland and its urban neighbourhoods in a shared experience.

The flames may smoulder and die, but for many people, the sense of community endures. As Mandira Neware observes, the Marbat Festival remains “a powerful tool for social commentary and change,” one that continues to draw on the city’s history while engaging each new generation.

When the crowds finally disperse and the last embers fade, Nagpur resumes its everyday rhythm, but with the hope of new beginnings.

The years of tradition suggest that as long as people in Vidarbha seek to leave their troubles behind in ritual fire, the Marbat Festival will keep Nagpur’s spirit bright.