Godna art: stories in ink

Rajpati Devi is singing the above as she walks from door to door across the villages of Mandar block. A plastic sack is slung over her shoulder and she carries a few utensils and a box of needles. Rajpathi is a godna (tattoo) artist, and can ink flowers, moon, scorpions and dots for a fee. The 45-year-old is among the last few women artists who still go from village to village, practising this ancient art.

“Mayi sange jat rahi ta dekhat rahi uhan godat rahan, ta hamahu dekh-dekh sikhat rahi. Karte karte hamahu sikh gayili, [I used to accompany my mother and watch her making godna. Eventually, I learned it too],” says Rajpati, a fifth generation tattoo artist.

Godna is a centuries-old folk art passed down through generations in the Malar community (listed as Other Backward Classes in the state) to which Rajpati belongs. Designs are inked on various parts of the body, symbols and meanings varying across regions and communities. More women choose godna than men.

It’s three in the afternoon and Rajpati has been on the move for six hours, walking through villages in Jharkhand’s Ranchi district, she returns to her two-roomed kutcha house in Kharge Basti, a small settlement of the Malar community, on the outskirts of Mandar village. Some days she covers up to 30 kilometres, both selling utensils they make at home and urging people to get a godna.

The utensils are made by her husband, 50-year-old Shivnath using a traditional metalworking technique called dokra. It is mainly the men of the household – her sons and husband – who craft the aluminium and brass items, although everyone in the household pitches in in some way. The women, Rajpati, her daughter and daughters-in-law make the moulds and dry them in the sun among other tasks. The items they make are everyday essentials – kerosene lamps, utensils used in puja, cattle bells and measuring containers among other things.

“This small one sells for 150 rupees,” says Rajpati, holding up what they call paila in their Nagpuri language. “It is for measuring rice; if you fill rice into it, it will weigh exactly a quarter kilo,” she adds. The paila is considered auspicious in this region, she says, believed to prevent food scarcity at home.

Showing us a small yellow box, the tattoo artist says, “this one has needles and this one has jarjari kajar [kohl].” 

Pulling out a sheet of paper from a plastic bag, Rajpati points out the designs they make.

“Isko pothi kehte hain, aur isko danka phool [this is called pothi, and this one is called danka phool]” Rajpati says, pointing to a design that resembles a flower blooming in a pot, which she has on her arm. “Isko hasuli kehte hain, ye gale mein banta hai [This is called hasuli, it's made around the neck],” Rajpati adds, showing a crescent-shaped design.

Rajpati usually tattoos on five parts of the body: hands, feet, ankles, neck, and forehead. And there is a special design for each. The hand typically features flowers, birds and fish, while the neck has a circular pattern with curved lines and dots. The forehead tattoo is unique to each tribe.

“Different tribal groups have different tattoo traditions. Oraons get mahadev jatt [local flower] and other flowers; Kharias get three straight lines and Mundas get dot godna,” Rajpati explains and adds that in the past, it was common to identify people by the tattoos on their foreheads.

Sunita Devi has a tattoo of a supali (bamboo winnowing basket) on her leg. A resident of Checheriya village in Palamu district, the 49-year-old says her tattoo symbolises purity. “Earlier, if you didn’t have this, you couldn’t work in the fields. We were considered impure, but after getting tattoos, we became pure,” says this tenant farmer from the Dalit community.

“The origin of godna art can be traced back to cave paintings from the Neolithic period. From caves, it moved to homes and bodies,” explains Ansu Tirkey, a research scholar at the Department of Ancient Indian History, Culture & Archaeology at Pt. Ravishankar Shukla University, Raipur.

Many, like Gohamani Devi believe that godna also has healing powers. The 65-year-old is a resident of Chhipadohar village in Jharkhand’s Latehar district. She has been practising godna for over five decades and is renowned for her jahar godna (poison tattoo), said to cure ailments.

“I have cured goitre for thousands of people through godna,” she proudly says, pointing to her own goitre healed by her mother's tattooing. People from other states such as Chhattisgarh, Bihar and Bengal come seeking her cure.

Apart from goitre, Gohamani treated knee pain, migraines, and other chronic aches. However, she fears that this art will disappear soon. “Now, no one gets tattooed as much; when we go to the villages, there’s no earning [...] After us, no one will do this anymore,” Gohamani says.

To make a tattoo, a godna artist needs lalkori ke dudh (lactating mother’s milk), kajal (kohl), turmeric and mustard oil. The godnas are made using brass needles called petarmuhi sui which have a brass tip that resists rust and reduces the risk of infection. “We used to make our own kajal, but now we buy it,” says Rajpati.

Depending on the design of the tattoo, it may require as few as two needles or as many as eleven. First, the godna artist makes a paste with the milk and kajal, adding in a bit of mustard oil. Then an outline of the design is made with either a pen or a pencil. The needles are chosen based on the design – two or three needles for a fine pattern and five or seven needles for a thicker border. “Our godna doesn’t hurt much,” Rajpati says teasingly.

Based on the size of the tattoo, it takes, “a few minutes for the smaller one, larger will even take hours,” says Rajpati. After making the tattoo, it is washed, first with cow dung and then with turmeric. The cow dung is believed to ward off evil, and then turmeric and mustard oil are applied to prevent infection.

“In the past, women would sing while getting godna, but now no one sings,” says Rajpati, who has even gone to Chhattisgarh and Odisha for godna.

“This three-dot tattoo costs 150 rupees and this flower pattern is 500,” Rajpati points to a godna on her wrist. “Sometimes we get money, sometimes people give rice, oil and vegetables or saree in return,” she says.

The modern tattoo machines have significantly impacted the earnings of traditional godna artists. “Very few people ask for godna now, Rajpati says and adds, “girls now prefer machine-made tattoos. They show designs on their phones and ask for those,” she adds.

People no longer get godna on their entire body like they used to, adds Rajpati, “now, they might get a small flower or a scorpion.”

The earnings from this art is not enough to sustain the family and they depend mostly on the sale of utensils. A large portion of this income comes from what they can sell at an annual fair in Ranchi. “When we earn around 40-50 thousand [rupees] at the fair, it feels like a good earning. Otherwise, it's just 100-200 rupees a day,” says Rajpati.

“Tattoos are auspicious” she continues, “they are the only thing that stays with the body after death. Everything else is left behind.”

This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).