Travel often gifts us unexpected moments of wonder—those fleeting encounters that stay long after the journey ends. One such moment came to me not in a remote village, but in the bustling departure terminal of Birsa Munda Airport, Ranchi.

As I wheeled my bag toward check-in, my eyes caught something that made me pause: a radiant replica of an Adivasi hut, its mud walls alive with Sohrai and Khovar paintings.

It wasn’t just an installation—it was a portal into the soul of Jharkhand.

A Living Canvas at the Airport

The hut stood like a sentinel of memory, painted with earthy hues and swirling motifs that told stories older than the airport itself. Peacocks, lotuses, deer, and abstract patterns danced across its walls. To the casual traveller, it was decoration; to those who lingered, it was a glimpse into one of India’s oldest mural traditions.

The murals spoke of harvest and weddings, of fertility and forests, of a people whose art is inseparable from life. That such an installation greets visitors to Jharkhand is not a mere aesthetic flourish—it is a cultural statement, a reminder that heritage thrives not just in museums but in everyday spaces.

From Rock Shelters to Nuptial Chambers

Of the two great mural traditions of Jharkhand—Sohrai and Khovar—the latter is intimately tied to rituals of marriage. The word Khovar itself is derived from kho (cave or chamber) and var (married couple).

Its origins trace back to the rock shelters of Isko and Satpahar in Hazaribagh, where prehistoric communities carved and painted animals, fertility symbols, and geometric patterns between 7000 and 4000 BCE. Remarkably, these motifs echo in the murals painted on village huts today, creating a thread of continuity that stretches across millennia.

To step into a Khovar-painted hut is to walk into a living archive—where nuptial chambers become sacred canvases and every brushstroke whispers ancestral memory.

The Matriarchal Brush: Women as Custodians of Tradition

Khovar art is deeply matriarchal in practice and philosophy. It is traditionally created by the women of the bride’s family, who prepare the wedding chamber with layers of clay. The process is symbolic and sacred:

• Dark clay base: Represents the womb, the origin of life.
• White or cream clay overlay: Symbolizes sperm, the seed of creation.

While the top layer remains wet, women use combs, twigs, or their fingers to scrape away the clay, revealing intricate designs beneath—a technique reminiscent of Sgraffito in ancient Greece and Rome, as well as incised pottery from the Indus Valley and Iran.

The term sgraffito comes from the Italian word sgraffiare, meaning “to scratch.” It refers to a method where one layer of material is applied over another of contrasting colour, and parts of the top layer are carefully scratched away to produce a design or image.

These murals often depict animals like elephants, turtles, peacocks, and lotuses, all dedicated to Pashupati, the lord of all creatures. The themes center around fertility, union, and the harmony between male and female energies.

Nature as Muse: Tribal Symbolism & Ecological Memory

The motifs in Khovar art are not arbitrary—they are reflections of lived experience and ecological intimacy. Forest-dwelling tribes such as the Santhal, Munda, and Oraon often depict wild animals like tigers, deer, and snakes, while agricultural communities from river valleys and plains favor domestic creatures like cows, goats, and peacocks.

In this way, Khovar functions as ecological memory—a visual record of the animals, landscapes, and symbols that shape community life. For generations, these murals have preserved knowledge about the environment while embodying spiritual beliefs.

A Season of Ritual: The Calendar of Khovar

The Khovar painting season aligns with the marriage season, typically from January to June, just before the monsoons. During this time, village women gather to decorate the nuptial chambers, passing down motifs and techniques from mother to daughter. It’s a communal act of love and legacy, where art becomes both ritual and inheritance.

Each marriage thus becomes not just a family event, but a communal renewal of tradition. Walls become classrooms, and every line etched into clay becomes both blessing and inheritance.

Fragile Yet Resilient

Despite its beauty and depth, Khovar art faces existential threats. Urbanization, shifting lifestyles, and the waning interest of younger generations have led to a decline in traditional practice. Today, only a handful of villages continue to paint their homes in the Khovar style.

Yet, there is hope.

To adapt to changing times, Khovar artists have begun translating their murals onto paper and cloth, making them accessible to patrons and collectors. This shift not only preserves the art but also empowers the women who create it, offering them new avenues for recognition and livelihood.

In 2020, the Sohrai-Khovar painting tradition received a Geographical Indication (GI) tag from the Geographical Indications Registry in Chennai—a formal acknowledgment of its cultural and regional significance.

A Moment of Reflection

My brief encounter with the Khovar-painted hut at Ranchi Airport was more than a visual delight—it was a reminder that art is not merely aesthetic. It is identity, memory, and resistance. It is the echo of rock shelters and the laughter of brides. It is the resilience of women who, with mud and clay, continue to keep history alive.

Khovar art, with its matriarchal roots and millennia-old motifs, teaches us that walls can be more than barriers—they can be canvases of continuity. It reminds us that tradition is not static but evolving, finding new expressions even in the corridors of an airport terminal.

As I boarded my flight to Delhi, I carried with me not just the image of a mural, but the sense of standing at the threshold of time—where prehistory meets the present, where ritual meets resilience, and where every brushstroke is a testament to the soul of Jharkhand.

Sometimes travel doesn’t take you far—it takes you deep. In that moment at Ranchi Airport, I realised that the most profound journeys are often those that reveal how ancient traditions still breathe in modern spaces, waiting quietly for us to notice.