What really happened at Burning Man, ft butter chicken night and Tutu Tuesdays

Until a few days ago, a towering 17-foot art installation of the Navagunjara, a mythical creature from the Mahabharata made up of nine unique parts, including the head of a rooster and the hind legs of a deer and a tiger, was standing bang in the middle of the bleached white desert outside Reno, Nevada. The sculpture was by Jnaneshwar Das and Richa Maheshwari. The former is a roboticist and installation artist, while the latter is the founder of Boito, a fashion and art label that celebrates Odisha’s craft and textile traditions and places them on a global platform. The stage of choice this time was none other than Burning Man, the mammoth nine-day event that sees the desert transformed into a Mad Max-meets-Auroville-meets-Coachella-type temporary metropolis that attracts around 70,000 people each year—everyone from OG hippies and artists to tech bros and influencers.

Das and Maheshwari’s Navagunjara sculpture was a fire-wielding showcase of traditional techniques—each body part was made in a different part of Odisha. Think: a forearm crafted using dhokra metalwork, a long peacock neck made using sabai grass craft, a serpent tail covered in embroidered cloth from the Dongria Kondh community, and a cane structure painted with delicate pattachitra figures. In a final flourish, the figure held a mashaal, or torch, that actually lit up in the desert night, a beacon in the dark.

Richa Maheshwari on the ground at Burning Man

While Das is a festival regular, this was Maheshwari’s first time attending; she was there as a recipient of the festival’s Honoraria Grant, which offers partial funding for artworks to pepper the temporary cityscape. She spoke to us about the experience over a video call from Cheongju, South Korea, where she is at Boito’s next showcase, the Cheongju Craft Biennale 2025.

What were your expectations from the festival, and what was the reality?

Honestly, I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I was travelling alone, without any friends. But honestly, the people were so nice. You’re really there to be a part of the community, to experience everything.

What took you by surprise?

The fact that once you’re there, it’s all free. You don’t use real money because the entire event is based on a gift economy. So, you’ll go to the bar camp with your cup and they’ll give you alcohol, or you can join a music camp or a yoga and meditation camp. And there’s so much great food. I spent time volunteering in the kitchen, and we actually made butter chicken and naan one night.

There’s also a lot of emphasis on communal effort and participation.

Yes, I reached early, during what’s called Build Week, which is before everyone else comes, when you’re actually entering the desert and setting up the whole thing. It was quite an experience; you’re putting up shade structures, kitchens, toilets. I got involved in rigging up the camp I was staying at, which was called Swing City because so many of the people who stayed there were acrobats!

I was also on MOOP [Matter Out of Place] duty almost every day, which is where you go around picking up trash. People are really conscious about how much waste they generate and they try to behave very conscientiously.

Did the storms that happened this year get in the way?

For three days there was so much dust and rain, but luckily our sculpture was able to withstand the elements, although it did get stripped down in parts. A lot of other artists lost their pieces in that weather. I lost my phone on the second day—I was cycling in the desert and it fell out, and then the storm happened—but a few days later I recovered it at the lost-and-found. Someone had returned it. When I dropped it in the desert, it was at 2 per cent battery, but they gave it back to me fully charged. It just speaks to the kindness and the level of intention that I experienced out there.

Tell us about the Navagunjara sculpture you created for Burning Man. What made you choose the form of this mythical hybrid creature?

The Navagunjara is so unique to Odisha. It appears in a retelling of the Odia Mahabharata by the poet Sarala Dasa as a beast that Arjun encounters in the forest during his exile. It’s supposed to be an avatar of Vishnu; initially, he was going to kill this seemingly hideous-looking creature that was towering over him, but then he heard a divine voice that reminded him that just because something does not belong in your cosmos, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t accept it. That message of tolerance, the idea that truth is multifaceted and not unidimensional, really resonated with us.

Did you wear Boito while you were out there?

No, I didn’t. I stuck to my cotton Fabindia and Anokhi clothes or just T-shirts and trousers. It’s the desert, after all, and it’s really hot. But next time I might push myself a bit more, because people really do plan their looks. There’s even a day called Tutu Tuesday where everyone, even the men, wear little skirts and tank tops. It’s cute and gets everyone into the spirit of the festival.