Jagannath Rath Yatra: The Spirit That Moves Millions

By Vinay Nalwa

Every year, as the monsoon clouds gather over Puri, a coastal city in the eastern Indian state of Odisha, the city's grand ceremonial road, known as the Badadanda, awakens with chants, conches, and boundless devotion. Rath Yatra, the grand chariot festival of Lord Jagannath is more than a religious celebration; it is a symbolic pilgrimage, both physical and spiritual, for millions of devotees. In this sacred festival, the gods themselves leave the sanctum to walk among their people, reminding us of the eternal connection between the divine and the devotee.

Lord Jagannath, along with His brother Balabhadra and sister Subhadra, steps out of the sanctum once a year to visit the Gundicha temple, believed to be their aunt’s home. While the majestic sight of the deities Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Subhadra on towering chariots is a visual delight, the deeper significance of this festival is echoed in the ancient wisdom of the Katha Upanishad. According to this Upanishadic vision: The body is the Ratha (chariot), Atman (soul) is the traveller. God or intellect in complete devotion to God is the Sarathi (charioteer). Where senses are the horses, reins are made of pity, forgiveness, and equanimity. The path the chariot travels upon is laid with discipline, tolerance, vigor, charity, and discrimination. The wheels are built of valour and persistence. When one surrenders the chariot of life to divine direction and controls the senses with compassion and wisdom, the soul travels safely through the bhavsagar—the turbulent ocean of material existence—to reach the Lord’s abode. This deeper meaning is reflected profoundly in the Rath Yatra, where the gods themselves take the journey—not as distant deities, but as companions guiding us through life’s pilgrimage.

In their three sacred chariots—Nandighosa (Jagannath), Taladhwaja (Balabhadra), and Darpadalana (Subhadra) constructed freshly every year using over 4,000 pieces of sacred wood in just 42 days. These massive 18-wheeled chariots are architectural wonders, pulled through Puri by throngs of devotees, while the Gajapati King of Puri sweeps the road with a golden broom, a humbling act that signifies the Lord’s supremacy over the entire world, even royalty.

Prior to the procession, the deities undergo Snana Purnima, a ritual bath with 108 pots of water, after which they ‘fall ill’ and rest behind closed temple doors symbolizing a spiritual withdrawal before emerging to bless the world with their presence.

Interestingly, the sheer power and grandeur of this celebration have even influenced the English language. The word “juggernaut” actually comes from Jagannātha, one of the names of Lord Krishna. European travellers who witnessed the Rath Yatra in Puri were overwhelmed by the scale of the chariot procession and the devotion surrounding it. Over time, the word “juggernaut” came to describe an unstoppable and mighty force—reflecting the spiritual momentum of the Lord’s chariot as it moves through oceans of faithful devotees. While some early Western accounts misrepresented aspects of the event, what remained was the undeniable truth: Rath Yatra’s impact is so powerful, it gave the world a word to describe a force that cannot be stopped.

Unlike the finely sculpted stone or metal idols found in most temples, the deities of Puri are made of wood, cloth, and resin. Their large eyes and unfinished forms are a continuation of a divine episode: Vishwakarma, disguised as a carpenter, was carving them under divine instructions. When the door was opened prematurely, the images were left half-made, reminding us that divinity does not always conform to human expectations.

Jagannath is not confined to ritualistic elitism. His temple is one of inclusion, where Mahaprasad (sacred feast)is shared by all, irrespective of caste or status.

Rath Yatra is more than a grand procession. It is a sacred moment that brings the devotee and the Divine closer. What truly makes this celebration powerful is not just the towering chariots or ancient rituals, but the recognition that the Lord is among us. Here in Puri, He comes not as a distant God of the heavens, but as Jagannath, the beloved form of Krishna, smiling wide-eyed, seated on a wooden chariot, allowing us—His children—to pull Him through the world.

To immerse in such a celebration through devotion, ecstatic chanting, sacred prasadam, and the collective pull of Harinam—is to be part of a current of faith that flows toward Him. Bliss flows from the awareness of His nearness, and the soul rests content at His lotus feet with hearts full of humility, thankfulness, and boundless love. The festival, the exuberance, the fervour, the excitement, and us—we are all part of Him. That is the ultimate truth. 

(The writer is an author and columnist)