‘Karam reminds us of who we are’: A festival helps Bengaluru’s Adivasi migrants feel at home

More than 1,000 migrant workers gather together every year in Bengaluru for a harvest festival that celebrates their Adivasi culture and helps them forget about their hardships for a while

Rosey Mukherjee

Women from the Oraon tribe dance to the beat of a drum to celebrate the Karam festival at St. Joseph’s University, Bengaluru. Rosey Mukherjee/The Migration Story

BENGALURU, Karnataka: For David Baxla, the harvest festival of Karam is not just a celebration – it is a connection to his land, language and tradition. From Gumla district in Jharkhand, Baxla, 38, is from the Oraon (or Kurukh) tribe, which has traditionally been dependent on the forest and agriculture for its livelihood. But 14 years ago, Baxla moved to Bengaluru in search of work and is now employed as an office assistant in the posh neighbourhood of Indiranagar.      

“During Karam, I dance and play the mandar nagara [a drum]. The rhythms fill me with pride and joy,” he told The Migration Story at Karam Utsav, a gathering to mark the festival, just as he and his son were about to play their drums and lead a string of dancers. “Karam reminds us who we are, even far away from home.”

Over a thousand Adivasi migrants and their families attended a Karam celebration at St. Joseph’s University on September 21. Many Adivasi groups with various religious affiliations were represented at the celebration, including the Oraon, the Santhal, the Munda and the Manjhi, from states like Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Odisha, Assam, West Bengal and Madhya Pradesh. Dressed in traditional clothes, they performed rituals and dances, played musical instruments, and transformed the campus into a space of shared histories. 

The Utsav, an annual affair, was organised jointly by the university, All Adivasi Associations of Jigani and organisations working with migrants such as Migrants Assistance Information Network, Ashirvad and the Indian Social Institute. 

“Every year, around 1,000-1,500 migrant Adivasi workers from Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, Odisha and Assam, who live in Bangalore, gather to celebrate Karam,” said Samir Minj of the Indian Social Institute, a training centre for South India’s marginalised communities. “One of the most sacred harvest festivals of central India’s Adivasi communities, it honours Karam devta, the deity of youth, fertility and nature.”      

Minj, who is also a member of the Oraon tribe and originally from Chhattisgarh’s Jashpur district, added, “For us, it is much more than a religious ritual – it is a celebration of our bond with the forest, soil and community life. It reminds everyone of the deep-rooted belief that human life and nature are inseparable.”

Students from various Adivasi groups dance and play musical instruments at the Karam Utsav. Pic credit: Chotanagpur Adivasi Students’ Association

Celebrating human bonds with nature

Karam is celebrated between August and September, before the kharif crop harvest, on the 11^th day of the new moon fortnight. The festivities took place inside a ground-floor hall on the university campus.

At its heart is worship of Karam devta, symbolised by a branch of the Kadamba or burflower tree, who is prayed for abundance, prosperity, a good crop, and a year free of floods and droughts. 

This scared branch was placed in the centre of the hall, with people seated all around. Migrant workers performed rituals like pouring water on the branch, tying a white thread to it, applying vermillion on it, lighting diyas and incense sticks and cracking a coconut.      

The Utsav’s organisers and Adivasi leaders also made speeches about the importance of Karam as migrants sang and danced around the scared branch to the beat of drums. They were joined by university students from the Chotanagpur Adivasi Students’ Association, which represented Adivasis from the states of  Jharkhand, Odisha, West Bengal, Chhattisgarh and Madhya Pradesh.      

Karam Puja highlights the deep connection that Adviasis have with nature, and the rituals express gratitude towards it as well as the need to protect it, Minj added. “We honour forests, rivers and the soil. For Adivasi communities, nature is a living partner, not a resource to be exploited. Festivals like Karam and Sohrae [a post-harvest festival] teach gratitude and respect for the environment – a lesson more relevant than ever given today’s climate crisis,” he said.      

A migrant worker lights incense sticks near the ‘sacred branch’, which symbolises Karam devta, the deity worshipped during the Karam festival. Rosey Mukherjee/The Migration Story

Home away from home 

For many Adivasi migrants, Karam is a rare opportunity to come together, escape isolation and express cultural pride. “We cannot go home for the festival every year – taking leave could mean losing income or even our jobs,” said Ranjita Khalkho, 35, who has been employed as a domestic worker in Bengaluru since 2009 and is from the Oraon tribe in Jharkhand’s Gumla district. “Celebrating Karam here allows us to forget our daily struggles and feel part of a larger community. It makes us feel at home, even when we are far away from home,” she added.

Arun Shawra, 34, a local leader belonging to the Oraon tribe originally from Assam’s Udalguri district, has been attending the Utsav with his family for six years. “This gathering gives us a chance to reconnect, share our stories, and meet one another after a long time,” he said. “It’s a space where we can open up and share our vulnerabilities while strengthening our bonds.”

Sunita Tudu, 26, from the Santhal tribe in Assam’s Lakhimpur district, works in a food packing company on the outskirts of Bengaluru. “We don’t get holidays and sometimes, the company even asks us to work on Sundays. That’s why this one day of celebration means so much to me. I came here wearing our traditional clothes and left behind all the exhaustion of work,” she said.

And for Baxla, Karam is a way to stay connected to his ancestral language and by extension, identity. He and his wife, a domestic worker, are teaching their 11-year-old son the Oraon (Kurukh) language. “In Bangalore, my son learns only English and the local language,” he said. “It is vital that my son learns our language and history. If we don’t pass it on, our legacy will be erased.”     

David Baxla, a migrant worker from the Oraon tribe, and his son with their traditional drums right before their performance at Karam Utsav. Rosey Mukherjee/The Migration Story

A long history of migration

Migration has been an inseparable part of the history of Adivasis. But it wasn’t always the result of choice; rather, it was forced upon them through exploitation and displacement. For instance, during British colonial rule in India, many Adivasis from the Chota Nagpur plateau (spread across several eastern states) were forcibly relocated to the tea gardens of Assam and West Bengal and made to work there under extreme exploitation. Today, displacement continues due to mining, industrial expansion, infrastructure projects and land acquisition (see here).

This history has a bearing on the Karam festival even today. “The Karam tree saved our ancestors from the jotedars [intermediary landlords], who came to seize our land and drive us away,” said Mathias Besra, 23, originally from the Santhal tribe in Assam’s Tamulpur district. “Our ancestors hid beneath the branches of the Karam tree and camouflaged themselves to escape the jotedars’ attacks.” 

Lawrence Ekka, a law student from the Oraon tribe, recalled how his own family’s history in the post-Independence period was shaped by this history of displacement. “My parents migrated from Jharkhand to Assam to work in the tea gardens and later, moved to the Andaman Islands in search of work,” he said. 

“Today, we, Adivasis, are being systematically pushed out of our forests in the name of development, wildlife conservation and national interest. Mining companies, industrial projects and large dams continue to displace entire communities, while promising rehabilitation that rarely reaches us,” he told The Migration Story, adding that the loss of land ends up destroying centuries-old knowledge systems, cultural practices and “the very essence of Adivasi life”.

But the celebration of Karam by Adivasi migrants far away from home is a living reminder of the survival and resilience of these communities.

Samir Minj, an Oraon tribe member affiliated with Bengaluru’s Indian Social Institute, speaks about the significance of the Karam harvest festival. Rosey Mukherjee/The Migration Story

‘We are here, we matter’

In a city like Bengaluru, popular festivals celebrated by non-Adivasi communities often end up excluding Adivasi migrants, especially those from lower socio-economic backgrounds. “Bangalore is dominated by majoritarian festivals that glorify spectacle and power, but the labouring poor, especially migrant workers, remain unseen and unheard,” observed Minj. 

However, amid the celebration of these mainstream festivals are other “counter-celebrations”, Minj added. “Karam highlights the lives and contributions of those who build and clean the city but are excluded from its imagination. It challenges the city’s consumerist culture, offering an alternative vision of community living and coexistence, one that values nature over profit, solidarity over status, and collective joy over commercial spectacle.” 

This counter-celebration became that rare occasion for Sandeep Topno to prioritise his need for connection over that for survival. “I do not get holidays at all. The store where I work [in the mall] has more visitors on Sundays, so I have to work overtime. But this Sunday I finally managed to take leave and join this celebration of Karam,” said the 32-year-old from the Munda tribe in Jharkhand’s Khunti district.

Besides this, Karam offers Adivasis dispersed across the city – working at construction sites, in garment factories and homes, and living in tin sheds or small rented rooms – a chance to assert their presence in the city. “When migrant communities gather publicly, their culture and identity become visible,” said Minj, adding that the festival “empowers them to speak up about collective issues, from unsafe working conditions to isolation. It is a peaceful yet powerful statement: ‘We are here, and we matter’.”

The Karam festival offers Adivasi migrants, who work in construction, garment factories and homes, and live in small rented rooms across Bengaluru, a chance to come together. Rosey Mukherjee/The Migration Story

Although thousands of migrant workers live and work in cities, their own festivals are rarely seen or celebrated. But occasions like Karam bring these migrant-led celebrations to the fore, organised by communities whose labour keeps the city running.

“I have been working in the city for five years, but I rarely get time to go around and explore it,” said Anuja Lakra, 30, from the Oraon tribe in Chhattisgarh’s Jashpur district, who works as a security guard in Whitefield, eastern Bengaluru. “But today is a special day for us, and my my sister and I have come here. This one day of celebration, filled with dance, songs and delicious food, helps us forget our hardships.” 

Edited by Subuhi Jiwani

Rosey Mukherjee is a Bengaluru based activist and lawyer