If fashion was politics, the Sambalpuri saree would be a seasoned MP– elected term after term, with zero scams to her name. Because while the Delhi girls were draped in Banarasi glitter and the brides of Tamilnadu shined in Kanjeevaram silk, the women of Odisha chose something more subtler- but they made it revolutionary in their own way.
Long before “vocal for local” became a buzzword on Delhi runways and before slow fashion was being sold in Goa flea markets at 8000 rupees a piece, Sambalpuri sarees were already being worn as statements. Not statements of wealth or luxury, but of quiet knowing- who you are, where you come from, and what your grandmother wore when she walked into a room that underestimated her.
Bandha– when weaving turned into poetry
Unlike prints that are painted on the surface after the fabric is made, Sambalpuri Ikat is built from the inside out using a tie-dye technique. Each design has to be imagined in reverse, dyed accordingly and then painstakingly bought to life on a loom. It is laborious storytelling, but in binary code and colour.
The Motifs– Not Just an Aesthetic
The motifs on the ikat are not just random florals created in a spur of the moment. Instead, they are symbols carved out of ages of the geographical memory of Odisha:
- The Shankha (conch) reflects the importance of starting every ritual with a declaration of peace, and it is a testament to this deeply spiritual state. It is not just a temple bell ringing in cotton, but the sound of the universe, the aum that began it all. Also sacred to both Vishnu and Lakshmi, the conch evokes both temple and tide– mixing Odisha’s sea-faring legacy with its devotional heart.
- The chakra (wheel) derived from the Konark Sun Temple and Lord Jagannath’s Rath Yatra, reflects an uncomfortable but important truth– that the moving wheel of change is the only constant.
- The maccha (fish) is a beloved creature by Odia people everywhere- because no Odia lunch is complete without machha bhata. It represents fertility, prosperity and a never-ending abundance. For Odisha’s agrarian and fishing communities, it is a sign of a good harvest. It is also an emblem of the cycles of evolution where life first began in water.
- The phula (flower) symbolises the divine feminine– so beautiful and pure that it is offered to God himself.
Walking around in a Sambalpuri saree is like doing performance art- with pure cotton fabric as your canvas.
Black, red, and royal white: the holy trifecta
What stands out in a sambalpuri saree is the constant tricolour scheme of red, black, and white. This is no coincidence; they are, in fact, the colours of Odisha’s favourite boy—Lord Jagannath! To wear these colours is not just a fashion statement, but a display of deep devotion.
In most parts of the world, black is shunned as taboo. But in Odisha, Jagannath’s body is painted black to represent tha cosmic void, a colour that absorbs and holds depth, not despair.
Red is more that just bridal in Odisha– it’s the protective colour of ritual, pulsating with energy. In Sambalpuri weaves, red is the colour of the rising sun and Goddess Samalei, whose shrine watches over Odisha like a mother and after whom the city of Sambalpur is named.
And finally comes white– not bleached, but organic off-white that represents peace, transcendence and clarity, a balancing dot of calm in a storm of colour. In Odia iconography, white stands for moksha– liberation. In the Rath Yatra, Subhadra’s chariot is white, the lone woman who is the balancing grace, beloved by her 2 elder brothers Jagannath and Balabhadra. In a sambalpuri saree, white acts as the space between the motifs. It grounds the wilderness of red and the depth of black– like a temple floor grounding its deity.
The Saree Multiverse!
No, don’t be fooled, Sambalpuri sarees are not a monolith. They are a constellation.
- Pasapalli: Literally means “chessboard”. These square motifs scream of ancient board games and scheming political strategy– with its geometric rigour and sharp contrast, Pasapalli is the saree you wear when you are checkmating the patriarchy at a Panchayat meeting. It is the kind of Saree Draupadi would have worn at her Swayamvar or Kannagi would have worn when confronting the Pandya king– this is a weave that says “I know the rules, and I know how to break them”.
- Bichitrapuri: True to it’s name that means “land of wonders”. It involves a lot of zigzags and diamonds scattered across its pleats. Dramatic and shape-shifting, Bichitrapuri feels like Holi, Diwali and a Rajasthani puppet show all woven into one.
- Boita: literally means “boat” and it has boat motifs, a tribute to Odisha’s seafaring traders who travelled on boats to distant islands like Bali, Java and Sumatra during Boita Bandana– Odisha’s own maritime festival.
- Nabakothi: literally means “nine house” and features 9 rectangular grids in a repeating pattern. It is the Odia version of an embroidered bullet journal.
Everyday Iconography
The Sambalpuri saree wasn’t for the red carpets. It was for sticky rice fields, hot school corridors and hostile Panchayat sabhas. It was worn by women who carried books and babies, by women who taught poems to kids and revolution to herself. It was for women who stood in long boiling queues for daily rations and still came back home radiant.
And sometime in the 1980s, a woman on the front page decided to drape herself in red-and-black sambalpuri while leading her country. When Indira Gandhi walked into the Parliament like that, she did not need a speech. Her presence spoke louder than any words ever could.
Legacy over Limelight, Always
Today, fashion labels are scrambling to sell “handloom” as a vibe. Artists are turned into hashtags, models are draped in Bandha but mispronounce “Sambalpur”. But real legacy? It sits quietly in your mother’s steel almirah. In that slightly faded, starched cotton she wore to fight the heat, the partiarchy and her nosy neighbour. And she walsy won.
Because confidence never needs a spotlight. It is the spotlight.
Sources:
Khanna, A. (2015). Ikat or Bandha of Odisha. Odisha Review, January 2015, 48–53. http://magazines.odisha.gov.in/Orissareview/2015/jan/engpdf/48-53.pdf
Mahapatra, B. (2011). Some new facts about Goddess Samlei. Orissa Review, August 2011, 35–38. http://magazines.odisha.gov.in/Orissareview/2011/august/engpdf/35-38.pdf
Pati, B. (2001). Identity, hegemony, resistance: Conversions in Orissa, 1800–2000. Three Essays Collective.
Tribes India. (n.d.). Discovering the beauty of Western Odisha cotton handloom sarees. https://www.tribesindia.com/blog/discovering-the-beauty-of-western-odisha-cotton-handloom-sarees/
Wikipedia contributors. (2023). Jagannath. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jagannath
Wikipedia contributors. (2023). Sambalpuri sari. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sambalpuri_sari
Wikipedia contributors. (2023). Samaleswari Temple. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samaleswari_Temple