Bhubaneswar: "You must understand, these are not decorations—they are our identity, our protection, and our passage to the afterlife," says 78-year-old Sukli Majhi, her face adorned with intricate geometric patterns that extend from her forehead to her chin. The faded blue-black lines on her weathered face tell a story of belonging to the Kutia Kondh tribe of Odisha's Kandhamal district, a visual language increasingly falling silent as younger generations turn away from these ancient practices.
In the remote hillsides of Odisha's tribal belt, the distinctive sound of bamboo sticks tapping against each other once signaled that a tattoo artist was at work. Today, this sound has become increasingly rare. The handful of remaining tribal tattoo artists represent perhaps the final chapter of a tradition spanning centuries.
Malati Jani, 82, one of the last practicing tattoo artists of the Dongria Kondh tribe, sits cross-legged on the mud floor of her thatched home in a village nestled in the Niyamgiri hills. Her hands, marked with the characteristic triangular patterns of her tribe, move with practiced precision as she demonstrates the traditional technique using thorns and indigenous ink.
"When I was young, I would tattoo at least twenty girls each season. Now, maybe one or two come in a year," she explains through an interpreter. "The young people say it hurts too much. They say it is old-fashioned. But they do not understand what they are losing."
The tattooing process itself is an intense ritual of endurance. Using a mixture of soot, turmeric, and specific plant extracts, traditional artists create a natural ink that is believed to have medicinal properties. Designs are applied using thorns from local plants or sharpened bamboo sticks, with the pigment manually tapped into the skin.
"The pain is part of the meaning," explains anthropologist Dr. Sudha Tripathy, who has documented tribal tattoo practices across Odisha for over two decades. "These tattoos are not just aesthetic choices but markers of significant life transitions. The physical endurance required is itself a rite of passage."
Among the Kutia Kondh tribe, facial tattoos known as "Khoda" traditionally marked a girl's transition to womanhood. The V-shaped marks around the forehead and intricate dots cascading down the nose and chin were believed to enhance beauty while also serving as permanent tribal identification.
"My grandmother told me these marks would make me recognizable to our ancestors in the afterlife," shares Sukli. "Without them, our ancestors would not welcome us. This is why every woman in our tribe once carried these marks."
For the Dongria Kondhs, geometric tattoos on the arms and legs represented protection against evil spirits. The distinctive diamond patterns—inspired by their deity Niyam Raja—were applied during childhood in a ceremony accompanied by sacrificial offerings and community feasting.
Dasari Kadraka, 70, rolls up his sleeve to reveal faded parallel lines running from wrist to shoulder. "These lines represent the streams flowing down Niyamgiri mountain," he explains. "They connect us to our sacred hills and protect our arms as we work in the forests and fields."
But these traditions now face extinction. In a village where once every adult bore traditional markings, it's increasingly rare to see anyone under 40 with tribal tattoos. Government schooling, migration to urban areas, and the influence of mainstream media have all contributed to a profound shift in tribal aesthetics.
"My daughters refused the tattoos," admits Sukli with a resigned expression. "They say no one will marry them if they look too tribal. They want to look modern now."
This sentiment echoes across tribal Odisha. Younger generations increasingly view traditional tattoos as barriers to social integration and economic opportunity. The physical pain of traditional techniques further discourages participation in a world where painless alternatives exist.
"Young people ask me why they should suffer when they can put on temporary tattoos or makeup," says Malati. "They do not understand that the suffering is what gives these marks their power."
The decline of these traditions represents more than just a change in appearance—it signifies a profound shift in cultural identity and intergenerational knowledge transfer.
"These tattoos carried cultural codes and tribal history," explains Dr. Tripathy. "Each pattern told stories of origin, belief systems, and social structure. As the practice disappears, so does this embodied knowledge."
Some preservation efforts are underway. The Tribal Research Institute in Bhubaneswar has begun documenting these vanishing traditions through photography and recorded interviews with remaining tattoo artists. A small museum display showcases the tools and materials used in traditional tattooing alongside photographs of elaborately tattooed elders.
More controversially, some urban tattoo artists have begun incorporating tribal designs into contemporary work. This appropriation has received mixed reactions from tribal communities themselves.
"If our grandchildren won't wear these marks but outsiders will, at least something survives," reflects Dasari pragmatically. "But will they understand what these marks truly mean? I think not."
As the afternoon sun filters through the trees in Malati's village, she carefully wraps her tattooing implements in cloth—thorns, bamboo sticks, and small pots of natural pigments. These tools, passed down through generations, may soon become museum artifacts rather than working instruments.
"When I die, I do not know who will continue this work," she says quietly. "I have taught a few younger women, but they have no customers. Perhaps these markings will live only in your pictures now."
The disappearance of these traditions reflects the complex reality facing tribal communities worldwide—balancing cultural preservation against the powerful forces of modernization and integration. For now, the last generation of fully tattooed tribal elders in Odisha carries these traditions literally on their skin, living archives of a practice that may soon exist only in photographs and memory.
