As night falls over Gujarat during Navratri, city skylines sparkle with fairy lights, DJ booths throb with bass-heavy beats, and fashion becomes an art form of sequins, mirror-work, and color. Young couples spin dandiyas under disco balls, selfie sticks rise higher than dandiyas, and “Garba nights” feel more like a Bollywood party than a spiritual tradition.
But deep within this carnival of celebration lies a quieter, older rhythm one not choreographed for Instagram or competition, but rooted in devotion, feminine energy, and the sacred cycle of life.
It’s time to ask: What is Garba, really? 
The word Garba comes from the Sanskrit “Garbha”, meaning womb. At its core quite literally is the “Garbo”, an earthen pot with a small lamp lit inside it. This simple clay vessel, often adorned with kumkum, rice, and flowers, represents creation itself, with the lamp inside symbolising the goddess Durga, the eternal feminine energy- Shakti.
In its original form, Garba is performed by women who move in circles around this pot, not to perform, but to pray. Their rhythmic clapping and steps echo the cyclical nature of life and the universe birth, death, and rebirth. The movement is meditative, the energy reverent.
But somewhere between the clay pot and the commercial stage, the meaning has started to blur.
In the past two decades, especially in urban Gujarat, Garba has transformed from a spiritual folk dance to a massive entertainment industry. Stadium-sized events with laser lights, celebrity DJs, and drone photography are now the face of Navratri.
The traditional Garba — soft, inward, spiritual — is increasingly overshadowed by Dandiya Raas, the stick-based dance that is flashier, faster, and more performative. Even outside Gujarat, when people say “Garba,” they often mean a dance party with dandiyas not a sacred circle around a pot.
“Today, most people don’t even place the pot at the center,” says Keshav Chauhan a folk historian based in Vadodara. “They dance around stages, influencers, and sound systems. The Garbo which represents the goddess herself is sometimes entirely missing.”
With growing commercialization, Garba nights now come with ticket prices, dress codes, security bands, and brand sponsors. Designers launch special Navratri collections, influencers curate content calendars, and music producers churn out viral Garba remixes featuring Punjabi rap or Afro beats.
In 2024 alone, Gujarat’s Garba industry was valued at over ₹800 crore, with key events attracting global audiences. From NRI-packed grounds in New Jersey to corporate-sponsored shows in Mumbai, Garba is now a diaspora identity and entertainment export.
But in the race to modernize, are we losing the meaning?
In cities like Bhuj and Rajkot, “Silent Garba” circles have emerged — where participants wear no makeup, no shoes, and dance barefoot in silence around the pot, connecting with the original spirit of the dance.
While many Indian dances are celebratory or romantic, Garba is philosophical. It invites the dancer to surrender to rhythm, to recognize the goddess not just as a deity, but as the source of all creation, including the self.
It’s a dance of offering, not of performance.
And unlike Dandiya, which tells the tale of Durga’s battle with evil, Garba is more inward an acknowledgment of the divine feminine within all life.
