“Ab hum lipishtick bhi lagate hain. Gaon mein koi kuch nahin bolta. Kyunki ab paisa aur naam jo aa gaya (I now even wear lipstick. People in my village don’t comment because today I have money and fame),” says a young Teejan Bai as she applies a bright red shade sitting in a makeshift green room before her performance on an open-air stage in Nagpur. “Aapko pata hai hum Aumrica jane wale hain (you know, I will be going to America),” she informs excitedly, and it is hard to miss the glint in her heavily kohl-lined eyes. Unlike her powerful narration on stage, Teejan speaks in a measured tone. As she recalls her arduous journey, dabbing some rose powder on her cheeks, she explains that makeup is more than an adornment; it is often a veil, masking years of pain and humiliation endured in her quest for acceptance in the male-dominated world of Pandavani (stories of the Pandavas). The folk art form largely remained unknown until she emerged as its foremost exponent.
“Believe it or not, I was beaten by my parents when I first expressed a desire to learn Pandavani”Teejan Bai
However, it would be grossly unfair to attribute Teejan’s success solely to her mastery of the art form. Her greatest achievement lay in drawing global attention, in a cultural landscape where classical arts have long enjoyed institutional patronage, to a folk tradition. Equally significant was her refusal to dilute its rustic charm or compromise its intrinsic Chhattisgarhi flavour, even when performing on some of the world’s most prestigious stages. The dialect, costume and raw dynamism of the form remained intact, irrespective of the setting.
“Believe it or not, I was beaten by my parents when I first expressed a desire to learn Pandavani,” she says. “I was fascinated by it since childhood. Growing up, I had seen my maternal grandfather perform and memorised most stories from the Mahabharata simply by listening to them,” she shares, crediting him for teaching her in secret despite staunch opposition.
“My parents thought the only way to stop me was to get me married. But they didn’t realise that I would never let anything come between me and my art. I was a born fighter,” she says breaking into a childlike laugh.
Teejan was only 12 when she was married. Undeterred, she gave her first public performance at the age of 13. She eventually faced social ostracism, walked out of an abusive marriage and lived alone in a hut. While many believed she had brought disrepute to the community, a few kind neighbours offered her food during those trying times. “When the whole world, including my near and dear ones, turned hostile, I took refuge in Pandavani. After all, I took on the world for its sake. I would practice day and night. I was my own teacher,” she says, smiling as she picks a few betel leaves from a damp cloth and deftly tucks them into her mouth.
Teejan Bai performing at IIT-Delhi.
| Photo Credit:
Sandeep Saxena
Once on stage, Teejan transformed into the many characters from the epic through fierce voice modulation, traversing octaves with remarkable ease. Whether performing in urban auditoria or village squares, she held audiences spellbound. During her presentations, she seemed unfazed by the epic’s literary and historical sweep. Equally significant was her choice of performance style. Rejecting the more restrained Vedamati tradition, where the artiste remains seated, she went in for Kapalik, an energetic and physically demanding form that had long been the preserve of men.
“Since they had labelled me a rebel, I thought, why not prove it in every way,” she quips. “So I chose Kapalik because it gives you the freedom to improvise. Have you seen how I turn my ektara into a prop for different episodes? At one moment it is a gada (mace), at another a baan (arrow) and sometimes even becomes Krishna’s bansuri.”
Teejan rarely missed an opportunity to perform or speak about the art form. For years, she was a regular at SPIC MACAY (Society for the Promotion of Indian Classical Music and Culture Amongst Youth), enthusiastically showcasing Pandavani at schools and colleges. She understood that such efforts were essential if the folk tradition was to become part of the country’s mainstream cultural conversation. Guiding and encouraging her in this endeavour was theatre legend Habib Tanvir, who pioneered a theatre movement rooted in Chhattisgarh’s folk forms. He saw in Teejan the potential to transform the way folk art was perceived.
What is Pandavani
Pandavani is a centuries-old folk storytelling and ballad-singing tradition from Chhattisgarh that narrates episodes from the Mahabharata.
The lead performer sings and narrates the tale in a local dialect, slipping effortlessly into different characters.
The performer carries an ektara adorned with peacock feathers and bells. More than a musical instrument, it transforms into a symbolic prop as the story unfolds.
The lead narrator is supported by musicians playing instruments such as the harmonium, tabla, dholak and manjira.
Many literary interpretations of the Mahabharata may have emerged over the centuries, but folk forms such as Pandavani remain among the most powerful ways of taking the epic to the masses. The dramatic oral recitation of the stories creates an emotional impact that few written retellings can match.
It is perhaps no surprise that Draupadi was one of Teejan’s favourite characters in the epic. She often infused the episodes centring on her with impromptu verses and intense drama. “I think characters like her are there in the epic to inspire women like me. I have always drawn strength from her courage and conviction to overcome challenges and to create an identity of my own,” she says.
Teejan Bai did exactly that. From earning ₹10 for her first show to receiving the Padma Vibhushan, she carried Pandavani from the villages of Chhattisgarh to audiences across the world, setting an enduring example of resilience and self-belief.
Published – July 07, 2026 05:51 pm IST
