Raghurajpur - The Heritage Village of India

It all started with a reference of 'Raghurajpur' in a quiz conducted in my College. Within a week I encountered the name in a magazine that I got my hands on in the library. Two references to the same place in a week - I took that as a sign and the very weekend I was on my way to RAGHURAJPUR :)

The lazy bones had their excuses for not coming. I did not push anyone so I was on my own in a state I've been staying in for a month and off to a place I had only heard of.

Thanks to Google maps (The Bestest invention for travelling) I figured out where I should be heading for once I leave my college campus.

Travelling included the regular negotiations with autowallas, receiving strange looks from fellow passengers, finding a seat in the Bus and then holding onto that seat. Although the last stretch of the travel came unexpected but was undoubtedly the best part of it all.

Modes of transport I used -

--> Auto from XIMB main road to Kalpana Square (100 Rs. could be negotiated to lesser amount)

--> Bus from Kalpana Square to Chandanpur (On the way to Puri so any Bus going to Puri would do, Ticket cost – Rs 25)

--> From Chandanpur I walked about 500 m when an elderly person offered me lift, on his bicycle :)

      I grabbed the opportunity without any second thoughts.

From the walk towards the Village and to the view of the Signboard 'Raghurajur - The Heritage Village of India' I fell in love with the place. It was Beautiful.

Dust if any was washed away by the rain, the leaves shone in glorious green, the river flowed with all its might and the pond as serene as an untouched sky - EVERYTHING, all of it was beautiful.

While I was lost in the beauty, my lift wale uncle was getting me acquainted to the tradition and also how his family has been into art for generations. His daughter who happens to be an Odissi dancer was travelling somewhere in the other part of the world then.

As the place was neatly laid out; there was absolutely no confusion while exploring the village. The view of everybody indulged in some form of the art or the other was mesmerizing. I was in teary eyes just at the sight of it. Walls were casually painted like we would see in an art gallery. Art just ran through the village. It was not just their way of earning; it’s a way of life there.

 (Just another 'wall' there)

Someone carved wood while sitting in the veranda while someone sketched in their workshop. No matter where they sat and what they did, the simplicity in the air would melt your heart and compel you to question your ways of living. Do we really need to crib as much as we do?

How can this place be so less known or am I the only ignorant person?

(I took his permission to enter his space and click pictures. They were friendly and more than welcoming)

The people without saying anything easily communicate the message that if we really want, we can make the best out of whatever we have and be AWESOME at it.

Time flew by and I could only visit 4-5 houses of the 120.

I left but with a promise to visit again.

               

(outside an artists's home cum workshop)

Keep travelling,

Manisha