LFC BHUBANESWAR | JUNE 2026
My grandfather used to pick me up from school, and on most days, we would stop at a nearby shop for a quick snack. We would get the jaggery-filled Mayurbhanj laddoo, savouring it while standing on the sidewalk.
I experienced the complex flavours of this seemingly simple laddoo when I was in my pre-teens—when it revealed to me its history, regionality, religious associations, community knowledge and labour, sustenance and sustained significance.
The bright procession of the Ratha Yatra sparked my curiosity of the laddoo’s legacy. During the Yatra’s prasad distribution, the same jaggery laddoos I shared with my grandfather were being thrown around like tennis balls in small plastic packets. I caught one of the flying laddoos!
Upon asking others in the procession about the laddoo, a story that began as early as the 16th century unveiled itself. Afterwards, I spoke to my nonagenarian relatives—in-laws, maausi, the priest—all of whom recounted laddoo lores. I also spoke to the shopkeepers, who shared their family legend associated with the laddoo.
The laddoo was introduced in 16th-century Mayurbhanj—once a princely state, and currently the largest district in Odisha, with Baripada as its municipal city. It is said that the recipe was developed by a craftsman, Udaynath Sahu, as a digestive aid for the heavy diet and hunting lifestyle of the royalty. The primary local ingredient was gud (jaggery), cultivated and processed by communities living within the kingdom. Meanwhile, the spices—pipali (Indian long pepper), ajwain (carom seeds), and black salt—were sourced from surrounding regions.
Within Mayurbhanj, while one community cultivated sugarcane, another extracted jaggery from it. Yet another community, the potters, skilfully moulded clay containers to store the jaggery. Outside Mayurbhanj, other communities cultivated, processed, and finally transported the spices to the royal kitchen.
The efforts did not stop there. The preparation of the laddoo was just as laborious. It was carried out by hand—from deep-frying tiny besan (gram flour) boondi and melting jaggery, to sprinkling spices and shaping the sticky mixture into bigger balls.
The efforts intensified all the more when the laddoos, on ordinary days exclusive for royalty, were offered as a prize to volunteers who pushed the sacred chariot during the annual Ratha Yatra—a sweet persuasion tack! In the following years, the tradition of mass distribution during the procession began, and roughly 50,000 laddoos had to be prepared for it.
The laddoo is truly an icon. It is a recipe, skill, and flavour that has been preserved by Udaynath Sahu’s family through the centuries. Currently, the fifth generation of the Sahu family is holding down the fort. They own three shops run by different family members: Jay Bajrang—the same one from my childhood—run by Sanjib Sahu, Balaram Sweet run by Nrushinga Sahu, and Baripada Prasidha run by Saroj Kumar Sahu. The family is part of the Gudia community, who are traditionally halwais or confectioners.
I brought the Mayurbhanj laddoos from all three shops, to our Local Food Club (LFC) meetup in June, centred around the theme ‘labour behind our food.’ I thought this laddoo would be apt, given the community effort it took—of the Gudia community and beyond—and continues to take; to grow each ingredient; transport it from the fields to the shops where it is melted, mixed, and moulded into round balls; to finally reach LFC’s Bhubhaneswar’s potluck table.
