Grama Devata Jatras are vibrant, deeply rooted village festivals across the South, dedicated to local guardian deities—often fierce forms of Shakti like Maisamma, Pochamma, Yellamma, Gangamma, and Poleramma. These deities are believed to protect the village from disease, drought, and misfortune, and their Jatras (annual fairs or processions) are a way for the community to honor that protection.

They occur during the summer months or just before the monsoon, aligning with agricultural cycles and invoking divine blessings for rain and fertility. And are marked by devotees offering animal sacrifices (in some traditions), turmeric, neem leaves, and bangles. The offerings are often made at shrines located on the village outskirts—symbolizing the deity’s role as a boundary guardian.

These are not just religious events—they’re social and cultural gatherings. Folk performances like Oggu Katha, Bonalu dances, and Pothuraju processions are common, turning the Jatra into a celebration of local identity. Many believe there are 101 Grama Devatas, all sisters, with Pothuraju as their only brother.

Each district has its own distinctive Jatra, the thickly forested districts of Adilabad and Komaram Bheem Asifabad, dominated by the Gonds, worship Nagoba, a snake like deity, and the Jatra in his honor at Keslapur is widely celebrated.

The Samakka Saralamma Jatara celebrated is Medaram of Mulugu district, in honour of a mother and daughter, who sacrificed their life fighting against the Kakatiya ruler, in protest against forcible collection of taxes.

Warangal and Karimnagar districts are known for their Oggu Katha performances during Jataras, stories sung in praise of native deities like Mallana, while Mahboobnagar, Nalgonda districts widely celebrate Maisamma and Pochamma who are believed to protect the village from drought and disease.

And one such jatra that is particularly famous in Telangana is Bonalu, though celebrated all over the state, it is the celebrations in Hyderabad that are quite famous. It is a corruption of the word Bhojanalu (meals or a feast) where women devotees prepare rice cooked with milk and jaggery in a brass or earthern pot, adorned with neem leaves, haldi, kumkum, and a lamp on the pot. They carry the pot on their heads to make the offering to Ammavaru, along with Kumkum, saree and bangles too.

The transformation of Bhojanalu into Bonalu is more than just linguistic, it is interwoven with a whole lot of symbolism. The decorated pot symbolizes the sacred vessel of devotion, while the accompanying gifts of kumkum, sarees, and bangles speak to the deep-rooted cultural expressions of Shakti and community bonding.

Legend

In 1813, when the plague devastated the twin cities, the Hyderabad Battalion stationed in Ujjain turned to Goddess Mahakali for divine intervention. Their vow to install her idol in Secunderabad if the city was spared became the genesis of Bonalu festival.

True to their word, once the plague subsided, they built the Ujjaini Mahakali Temple in Secunderabad and offered Bonam—a meal of devotion—as thanksgiving. What began as a solemn promise has since blossomed into a vibrant, deeply rooted tradition that pulses through the streets of Telangana every Ashada Masam.

Incidentally the two major festivals of Telangana, Bonalu and Bathukamma place women at the heart of the celebration, not just as participants but as embodiments of Shakti—divine feminine energy. The belief that Ammavaru returns to her maternal home during Ashadha echoes the emotional rhythms of familial bonds, much like a daughter visiting her parents during festivals.

What’s especially fascinating is how Bonalu honours the goddess in her many local manifestations—Pedamma, Mysamma, Mahankali, Yellamma, Poleramma, Ankalamma, and others—each rooted in specific communities and geographies.

Bathukamma, on the other hand, celebrates the life-giving force of nature through floral arrangements and songs, again led by women. Together, these festivals don’t just celebrate Shakti—they centre it, making Telangana’s cultural landscape uniquely female oriented.

The Bonalu festivities at Sri Jagadamba Mahankali Temple in Golconda Fort mark not just the ceremonial start of Ashada Masam, but are also a cultural heartbeat that echoes through Hyderabad. The celebrations began this year on June 26, with nine major pujas scheduled every Thursday and Sunday until July 24.

The temple itself, perched atop the historic fort, becomes a radiant epicentre of devotion. Women in vibrant silk sarees carry decorated bonam pots, while Pothurajus dance to the thunderous rhythm of teenmar drums, leading the Tottelu procession from Langar Houz to the temple. Ministers and dignitaries offer silk garments to Ammavaru, reinforcing the festival’s blend of spiritual and civic significance.

On the second Sunday of Ashada Maasam, Bonalu is observed at Balkampet Yellamma Temple , dedicated to Renuka, the mother of Parashuram, it’s believed she hid here, after he was ordered to kill her by his father Jamadagni. What’s especially fascinating is that the idol here is Swayambhu—self-manifested—and located 10 feet below ground level, partially submerged in water, earning her the name Jala Durga.

Devotees believe the sacred water (theertham) has healing properties, especially for skin ailments. The temple’s Ashada Jathara draws thousands, and the Bonalu celebrations here are among the most vibrant in the city.

It’s also heartening to see how the temple continues to serve the community—like through the Nitya Anna Dana scheme, recently supported by a ₹1 crore donation from Nita Ambani.

On the third Sunday, it is observed at Katte Maisama Pochamma Temple, Chilakalguda on the Lower Tank Bund. Maisaamma is believed to be a very powerful version of Shakti, whose worship imparts power within the devotee. The temple was built by a Patel family from Golkonda, and it’s believed that when floods ravaged Hyderabad in 1908, the offering made by the then Nizam, controlled the damage.

The belief that Maisamma’s divine intervention helped curb the devastating 1908 Musi floods—after an offering by the 6th Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan—is a powerful testament to the goddess’s perceived might and the syncretic faith of the city. Her name itself—Katta meaning embankment—roots her in the landscape of Hyderabad.

And on the same day, the Matheshwari Temple at Lal Darwaza comes alive with Bonalu fervor. This temple, nestled in the heart of the Old City, is another vital node in the spiritual map of Telangana’s Shakti worship. The convergence of these celebrations across neighbourhoods reflects how Bonalu is not just a festival—it’s a city-wide invocation of protection, power, and gratitude.

Akkanna Madanna Temple at Shah Ali Banda is also famous for Bonalu celebrations, built by in the 17th century by Akkanna and Madanna, two influential Hindu brothers who served as Prime Minister and Commander-in-Chief under Tana Shah, the last Qutb Shahi ruler, the temple stands as a testament to their devotion to Mahankali and their prominence in the court.

Their daily worship at the temple before attending court duties reflects a deeply personal spiritual discipline. And the fact that they were maternal uncles of Bhadrachala Ramadasu—the saintly devotee of Lord Rama—adds another layer of devotional legacy to the site.

After their execution during the invasion of Golkonda by Aurangzeb, the temple fell into obscurity but was later revived, becoming a vibrant centre for Bonalu once again. Today, the Ghatam procession from this temple is one of the most iconic during Bonalu, drawing thousands of devotees.

The trance state, often witnessed during the processions, is believed to be a moment when Ammavaru possesses the devotee, typically a woman carrying the bonam. Her movements become charged, her voice may change, and she’s seen as a living vessel of the goddess’s energy.

The act of pouring water on her feet is both symbolic and practical—it’s meant to cool and pacify the divine presence, which is believed to be fierce and protective. This gesture reflects a profound understanding of the goddess’s dual nature: nurturing yet formidable, maternal yet martial. The rhythmic drumming, the chants, and the collective energy of the crowd often intensify these moments, creating a liminal space where the sacred and the everyday blur.

Pothurajus are among the most electrifying and symbolic figures in the Bonalu celebrations. With their muscular build, turmeric-smeared bodies, and ankle bells jingling to the beat of teenmar drums, they embody the fierce, protective energy of Ammavaru’s brothers. Their role is not just ceremonial—it’s deeply spiritual and communal.

Leading the Palaharam Bandi procession, they clear the path for the goddess’s arrival, dancing with intense vigour and often wielding whips or sticks. Their movements are believed to ward off evil and purify the route, ensuring the goddess’s safe passage. The crowd’s energy often mirrors theirs—raw, reverent, and charged with devotion.

What’s fascinating is how the Pothuraju tradition blends martial valour with ritual performance, echoing ancient guardian archetypes found in tribal and folk traditions across India. In many ways, they’re the festival’s pulse—loud, proud, and impossible to ignore.

Rangam is one of the most spiritually charged and culturally symbolic moments of Bonalu. Held on the morning following the main festivities—especially at the Ujjaini Mahankali Temple in Secunderabad—this ritual transforms the temple courtyard into a sacred stage where divine communication is believed to unfold.

A woman, often referred to as the oracle or Matangi, stands barefoot atop a wet earthen pot, invoking Goddess Mahankali into herself. In that trance-like state, she delivers prophecies about the year ahead—speaking of rains, harvests, health, and the well-being of the people. The atmosphere is electric: the crowd falls silent, hanging on every word, believing the goddess herself is speaking through her vessel.

Ghatam truly embodies the spirit of the goddess throughout the festival. Representing Ammavaru herself, the copper pot is ornately decorated with turmeric, vermilion, neem leaves, and a lit lamp, and is carried by a priest whose body is smeared with haldi, signifying purity and divine embodiment.

The Ghatam procession from Lal Darwaza to Nayapul is nothing short of a spiritual spectacle. As it winds through the Old City’s historic lanes—past Shahalibanda, Charminar, Gulzar Houz, and Patherghatti—devotees line the streets, while Pothurajus dance fiercely and youngsters sway to the beat of teenmar drums and folk songs, creating a rhythmic, almost trance-like atmosphere.

The immersion of the Ghatam in the Musi River at Nayapul marks the ceremonial conclusion of Bonalu, symbolizing the goddess’s return to her celestial abode after her visit to her maternal home. It’s a moment of both celebration and farewell, steeped in emotion and collective devotion.

Bonalu is Hyderabad’s heartbeat in festive form—a tapestry of faith, fierce devotion, music, dance, and blazing colour all woven together in honour of the Mother Goddess. It’s more than a ritual; it’s a sensory celebration of Shakti, pulsing through the city’s lanes and hearts.

From the hypnotic rhythms of the teenmar drums and the fiery energy of Pothurajus, to the graceful determination of women carrying bonams and the trance-state oracles delivering divine insights—every moment is an offering, every gesture charged with purpose.

And like any true carnival, it brings people together across class, creed, and community lines—a shared act of devotion and cultural identity unique to Telangana. It’s not just seen, it’s felt.