Most festivals in India revolve around gods, glitter, sweets, and rituals led by men, while women remain in the background—cooking, observing, assisting. But Mukka Sendra, also known as Jani Shikar, stands apart from this familiar pattern. Celebrated by the Oraon (Kurukh) tribal community across Jharkhand, Odisha, and parts of Chhattisgarh, this rare tradition does something unusual: it gives women the centre of power, and it asks men to step away.

Unlike annual festivals, Mukka Sendra returns only once in twelve years, which makes it less of an event and more of a cultural return—a ritual of remembrance. It is not meant to entertain outsiders. It is meant to keep history alive within the community. It survives not through textbooks but through memory passed from mothers to daughters, generation after generation.

At the heart of this festival is a question that still unsettles modern society: What happens when women are no longer “protected” but become the protectors? The answer comes from a legend that the Oraon people refuse to let die.

The Legend That Refused to Die

Oral history among the Oraon community traces Mukka Sendra back to events believed to have occurred around five centuries ago, near Rohtasgarh Fort in present-day Bihar. According to the legend, the invaders planned an attack at dawn, assuming the village men would be exhausted and asleep after the Sarhul celebrations.

But three women—Sinagi Dai, Kaili Dai, and Champa Dai—refused to surrender their community to fate. They gathered the women, disguised themselves as men by wearing turbans and male clothing, and carried weapons such as bows, spears, and axes. From a distance, they appeared like trained soldiers guarding the fort.

The women fought with such intensity that the invaders were pushed back repeatedly. However, the legend says the truth was eventually discovered when a spy noticed the women washing their faces in a way that appeared “feminine.” The fort was defeated, but the community did not allow the story to end in shame. Instead of burying the tale, they transformed it into a ritual. Instead of silence, they chose remembrance.

What survived wasn’t the fort. What survived was the message: women can lead war, protection, and resistance—even when no one expects it.

Why Men Are Forbidden

In Mukka Sendra, men are not allowed to take part in the hunt or attend the feast. They are expected to stay home, cook, and look after children. This is not framed as punishment, but as a symbolic reversal of roles—one that honours the women who once protected the community when men were unable to do so.

For one day, the social order is flipped, and an exclusive space is created for women. The restriction on men is a powerful reminder that courage and protection are not gender-owned qualities. By stepping aside, men acknowledge history—and they also experience, even briefly, the everyday labour women carry silently.

Elders often describe Mukka Sendra as an occasion that teaches men the burden of domestic responsibility. Many men begin the day casually, even joking about household work. But by evening, the effort required to manage a home—physically and emotionally—becomes undeniable.

No lecture is needed. The understanding arrives on its own.

How the Ritual Happens Today

When the twelve-year cycle returns, women move in groups from village to village, carrying bows, spears, and the dao (a traditional tool used in tribal communities). The host village welcomes them by washing their feet, feeding them, and joining the procession as it continues forward.

Modern celebrations often avoid harming wildlife. Instead of hunting animals in forests, communities now use symbolic offerings such as goats or pigs—practices that allow the tradition to continue while aligning it with conservation awareness.

The day becomes vibrant and communal. Drums echo through villages, songs travel across fields, and women who are often pushed into domestic invisibility are publicly seen, respected, and celebrated. Young girls who usually remain restricted inside homes walk alongside their mothers, absorbing a kind of confidence that society rarely offers them freely.

The Three Dots: From Humiliation to Honour

One of the most haunting elements of the legend is the marking of captured women with three dots on their foreheads. What was meant to brand them with humiliation later became a symbol of pride.

Even today, some Oraon women tattoo these dots to remember their ancestors and the battles tied to Rohtasgarh. The transformation of this mark—from shame to courage—shows something deeper about tribal memory: oppression can be rewritten into identity, and pain can be converted into strength.

Small marks, but massive meaning.

Why This Tradition Still Matters

In a world where women continue to fight for safety, dignity, and recognition, Mukka Sendra feels almost revolutionary—not because it is loud, but because it is quiet and undeniable.

The ritual suggests an uncomfortable truth: women were never weak; they were simply never recorded properly. Their bravery existed long before modern feminism gave it language. Mukka Sendra preserves that bravery in a way no speech or slogan can.

This festival does not scream protest. It performs resistance through ritual. It offers a space where women lead without permission, where their strength is not debated, and where history is told from their side.

Beyond Myth and Legend

Historians may debate the exact details of the Rohtasgarh story, because much of it survives through oral tradition rather than written documents. But tribal communities insist that the truth Mukka Sendra carries is larger than paperwork: women protected the community, women bore war and loss, and women refused to disappear.

That is why this tradition continues even after centuries. It is not about proving history in court. It is about keeping identity alive in memory.

Memory That Returns Every Twelve Years

Mukka Sendra is not a festival performed for the world’s approval. It is a ritual that comes back every twelve years like a voice from the past, asking one simple thing: Do not forget.

For one day, the world pauses inside Oraon villages. Men step back. Women step forward. And history becomes visible again—not through monuments, but through footsteps, songs, weapons held in symbolic hands, and a community choosing to honour its women in the most direct way possible.

Power does not always roar.

Sometimes, it walks barefoot, carries a bow, and remembers.

.    .    .

References:

• Chief Minister of Jharkhand – Official Portal (Jani-Shikaar) Confirms the festival is held once every 12 years, women wear men’s clothing, and go hunting.
• Media India Group – “Six lesser-known tribal rituals still practised across India” Mentions Mukka Sendra / Jani Shikar, Oraon tribe, once in 12 years, women dress like men, and men are not allowed to participate.
• The Telegraph (India) – “Hunt down lanes of history…” (2006) Discusses the legend linked to a battle ~500 years ago, and that Oraon women go on a hunting spree every 12 years.
• University of Heidelberg Repository (PDF) – “A Note on ‘The Women’s Hunt’ (Jani-Sikar)… (Modi)” Academic-style source; mentions Jani-Sikar / Mukkasendra, and the 12-year cycle.
• Adivasi Lives Matter – “Jani Shikar: The Powerful History of Adivasi Women Warriors” (2021) explains the festival as a women’s hunt and the tradition’s link to women warriors/protection of the community.