Reflections from Kangundi
By Meha Shree Saxena, Mumbai (Instagram @mehashree33)
Emcee, Kangundi Bouldering Festival 2026 — Evening Cultural Shows & Prize Distribution
With Babaji and Guruji- My Journey Begins
There are some journeys that begin with an invitation. Mine began with a blessing.
I have been a disciple of Guruji Naushir since 2014. If I pause and look back at my life with honesty, I know that whoever I am today, whatever little I have been able to achieve, and whatever strength I carry within me has been shaped by the grace of Babaji and Guruji. Every meaningful turn in my life has somehow carried their unseen guidance. Looking back, I can only feel gratitude.
One such blessing eventually became Kangundi Seva.
The story started around 2018–19 when, during one of the Guru Purnima celebrations, Guruji spoke about adopting a village in Andhra Pradesh. I cannot explain why those words touched me so deeply. They awakened something that had quietly lived inside me for years, an unspoken desire that someday, somehow, I too would be able to contribute to the life of a village.
Over the years, I watched that vision slowly unfold. Every Guru Purnima brought stories of that Andhra Pradesh village changing — water being restored, schools coming alive again, ancient temples finding new life, communities discovering hope once more. Every story filled me with immense joy. Yet somewhere, hidden beneath that joy, was a small prayer:
“One day I hope I get to be a part of this too.”
That day arrived when a message appeared about Kangundi Seva in our TadEkam group. I did not know how I would manage my work. I had not booked my tickets. I simply looked at my calendar, blocked the days between Christmas and New Year, and said yes. I even remember thinking that if I could somehow take my dog, Raanjha, along, I would happily spend the entire holiday doing seva.
An Unexpected Calling
A few days later came another unexpected blessing.
Seema Di called to tell me that Guruji wanted me to anchor the Kangundi Bouldering Festival’s Curtain Raiser.
I was shocked, blessed, grateful, nervous, and excited all at once. Somewhere, it felt as though the journey had already begun. Life, however, has its own rhythm. My first flight was cancelled, and instead of reaching Bengaluru, I quietly returned home. At that moment, it felt like a delay.
Looking back, it feels like perfect timing. I spent those unexpected hours helping a few elderly women at the airport, and later learnt that the first event was conducted beautifully in the local language Telugu- not my forte. It felt as though life had gently rearranged itself for everyone’s highest good.
A few weeks later, I finally reached Kangundi; this time for the Kangundi Bouldering Festival January 2026. I still remember the very first moment. I stepped out of the car. Before I noticed the people, I noticed the dogs. A few beautiful dogs lazily resting outside the little shops instantly made me feel at home. Then I looked up. A magnificent mural of a jatadhari Lord Shiva stood before me. Behind it rose the ancient Shiva Inselberg, as though the mountain itself had stepped out of the painting.
I simply stood there. Looking. Absorbing. In awe. Something inside me became very quiet.
Meeting the Taskmaster
And then I met Major General Sanjay P. Vishwasrao Sir for the very first time. My first impression of him still makes me smile. A jolly man. Deeply committed. A taskmaster in the truest sense of the word. Within minutes, I knew he was someone who could make mountains move. Quite literally. And over the days that followed, didn’t he?
Watching him lead was inspiring. There was discipline, clarity, and an infectious sense of purpose. Amidst all the moving pieces, he somehow managed to keep everyone focused on the larger vision. Looking back, I feel every person in Kangundi carried a unique piece of the puzzle, and Major General Sanjay P. Vishwasrao was one of the steady hands helping all those pieces come together.
The sevaks informed me that during his November 2025 visit, Swami Dattapadanandji ahd shared something that stayed with me throughout my journey. He described the Kangundi Inselberg as a living Mount Kailash, a place where Lord Shiva lovingly invites His children to climb over Him, walk upon Him, play upon Him, and in doing so, gently lay down the burdens and negativity they have been carrying.
Whether one experiences it in exactly that way is deeply personal. For me, those words came alive throughout my days in Kangundi. Kangundi itself felt like sacred geography.
It is a land where the presence of Lord Shiva, Lord Vishnu, Hanuman Ji, and the Divine Mother seems to live naturally within the landscape. Every turn carried another story, another shrine, another reminder that devotion had quietly shaped this place for generations.
Wandering the Spotless Lanes
The first few days were surprisingly free. Since the main festival was still a couple of days away, I didn’t have much work, and today I feel grateful for that gift of time. One afternoon, my fellow TadEkam member Shirin and I simply decided to walk.
I have travelled extensively across India since 2009, long before travelling became fashionable on social media. Yet very few places have affected me the way Kangundi did.
We wandered through spotless lanes painted with magnificent murals from our ancient traditions. Lord Vishnu smiled from one wall. Lord Shiva watched over another. Around us wandered dogs, sheep, and villagers carrying on with their ordinary lives.
Then came the boulders. Gigantic. Ancient. Each one shaped so uniquely that we found ourselves stopping every few minutes just to marvel at them. We spent a long time inside the over 1,000-year-old Sri Venugopal Swami Temple, quietly observing its pillars, carvings, and motifs, wondering how many centuries they had silently witnessed. A little further ahead, nestled against one of those timeless rocks, stood a tiny Devi temple. There was no crowd. No noise. Just silence.
The kind of silence that gently asks you to listen to yourself.
As we continued walking, we met a gentle cow and her young calf. We stopped to pet them, and within moments the family invited us in and offered us fresh milk. A little ahead, another family introduced us to their playful baby sheep. Later, a few village women called us over simply to offer us fruit. There was a language barrier. Yet there was never a barrier to kindness or curiosity.
It struck me then. We had come believing we were here to help this community. But perhaps, without even realising it, this community was already helping us remember what it means to simply be human.
Living in Mumbai, life often becomes a race — deadlines, competition, ambition. Kangundi reminded me of something far older.
Wonder. Gentleness. Presence.
The people carried themselves with remarkable simplicity and quiet dignity. They took themselves lightly, yet they respected themselves, their traditions, and their land deeply. They spoke about their village with pride. One of my favourite memories is meeting young local guides like Mohan, who had been trained by TadEkam to narrate the history of Kangundi to visitors. Listening to him explain every mural, every stone, and every forgotten story with such confidence filled me with hope.
Perhaps true development isn’t only about building roads. Perhaps it is also about helping people rediscover the beauty of where they come from. Then I heard that this is what Babaji and Guruji meant when the one condition they put on all sevak- #ClimbInCulture i.e., promote tourism to strengthen culture.
Five Hundred and Seventy Steps to Stillness
The climb to the Kangundi Shivling Fort became one of the most profound experiences of my journey. Walking alongside fellow sevak Bhairavi, whom I had only just met but instantly felt connected to, I slowly climbed towards the summit. Every pause invited stillness. Every breath felt like meditation.
Swamiji had shared that every face of the fort reveals a different presence — the forms of Lord Shiva, Lord Vishnu, and Hanuman Ji — and that the Divine Mother rests at its base. As I climbed, those words echoed within me.
Perhaps that is why every turn of the climb felt sacred. Perhaps that is why the silence there felt so alive. At the top, sitting quietly near the Sri Virupaksha Swami Temple, I looked out at the landscape and allowed myself to simply be. I cannot fully explain what happened in those moments. I only know that I returned carrying less than I had taken up. It felt as though something heavy had quietly dissolved within me.
Whether it was the mountain, the silence, the grace of the Gurus, or all of them together, I do not know. I only know that I came down lighter.
An Ocean of Flowers
TadEkam also took us to the neighbouring villages as part of seva, each village carrying its own unique story.
One experience that will remain with me forever was the Kuppam Marigold Festival in Kathimanapalli village. I had never witnessed anything like it. An ocean of flowers lovingly offered to Lord Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. Every family in the village participating with devotion. Flowers in colours I had never imagined. Fragrance in every direction. The entire village gathered not out of obligation, but out of love. I remember standing there thinking that perhaps devotion is at its most beautiful when it is woven into everyday life. Later, I learnt that every evening the elders gather the children in the temple courtyard, teaching them songs, dances, and stories of the Divine.
In Motla Chenu the Valmiki Tribals welcomed us with equal warmth for the Kuppam Tribal Festival.
They shared their temples, their traditions, and food prepared with such love that every meal felt like prasadam. Every village had its own customs. Its own songs. Its own celebrations.
Yet one thread connected them all. Joy expressed through devotion.
Beautiful Chaos
By the time the Kangundi Bouldering Festival finally arrived, there was beautiful chaos everywhere.
Plans changed. Schedules shifted. Unexpected challenges appeared every few hours. And yet, there was not a single person who stepped back. I watched my TadEkam family in roles I had never seen before.
People who, in their everyday lives, are doctors, engineers, artists, entrepreneurs, and professionals had become organisers, decorators, guides, cooks, coordinators, logistics managers, and silent problem-solvers. No one seemed concerned about titles. Everyone was simply asking, “What more can I do?”
Amidst all of this, my own role was to be the Sutradhar, the one entrusted with weaving together the many threads of the festival into one seamless experience. The power of words and connection is a gift from my Babaji and Guruji that I have recently earned. And now it was slowly unfurling to me how my Masters have been working on each TadEkam member, perhaps preparing each one of us to be a part of this movement called “Seva” in our very unique ways.
Held by Something Greater
Before stepping onto the stage, I remember feeling quietly nervous. There were so many moving parts. So many last-minute changes. So many uncertainties. And then… I walked onto the stage. Something shifted. The chaos outside remained exactly as it was. But within me there was only stillness. It felt as though Maa, Babaji and Guruji had simply held me.
With a smile on my face and a peace I cannot explain, I found myself moving effortlessly from one moment to the next, welcoming guests, introducing performances, connecting stories, and gently holding together an event that, from the outside, looked wonderfully unpredictable.
Looking back, I still don’t know how everything flowed the way it did. Perhaps I never will. What I do know is that I was held every single step of the way. My fellow TadEkam members, who themselves were navigating uncertainty while giving their absolute best, became my greatest support.
Together with everyone’s dedication, Major General Sanjay P. Vishwasrao Sir’s leadership, the villagers’ wholehearted participation, and the blessings that seemed to carry the entire event, we watched everything come together beautifully. The smiles on the faces of the villagers remain one of my greatest memories. Children performing with confidence. Local artisans proudly displaying their work. Local women running stalls. The cultural performances celebrating the spirit of the land. And climbers from across the country gathering to celebrate Kangundi’s magnificent boulders.
It was a celebration. Not just of adventure. Not just of culture. But of a community rediscovering the beauty and strength it had always possessed. A community that was climbing in culture together.
Humse Karwa Ke Liya Jaata Hai
Yet, the greatest gift I received that day was not the appreciation after the programme ended. It was a quiet understanding that dawned while I was standing on that stage.
For the past couple of years, Swami Dattapadanandji has often reminded us, “Humse karwa ke liya jaata hai.”
“Humse karwa ke liya jaata hai.” — It is not we who do; it is done through us.
For a long time, I understood those words only intellectually. In Kangundi, I experienced them. Standing in the middle of so much movement while feeling completely still within, I realised that perhaps I was never the doer.
Something far greater was simply allowing itself to work through me.
Later, when I reflected on my climb to the Mount Kangundi Shivling Inselberg, on Swamiji’s description of it as a living Mount Kailash where Lord Shiva lovingly takes away the burdens we carry, I felt that one of the greatest burdens He had quietly taken away from me was the burden of believing that I was the one making things happen. He had gently washed away a part of my ego. And in its place, He left gratitude. When I first heard about seva years ago, perhaps a part of me thought it was something I would do for someone else. Kangundi transformed that understanding forever.
Today, I no longer feel that we do seva. Seva is not an achievement. It is not an act of generosity. It is grace. It is an opportunity lovingly placed before us. And perhaps, as Swamiji reminds us, “Humse karwa ke liya jaata hai.” We simply become instruments.
If You Are Reading This
If there is one thing I wish to say to everyone reading it till here, it is this:
“If an opportunity for seva comes your way, don’t wait until life becomes convenient.”
Don’t wait until everything is perfectly planned. Just come. Come once. Come with an open heart. The work you do will certainly matter. The people will certainly benefit.
But don’t be surprised if, somewhere along the way, you realise that the greatest transformation is not happening in the act of seva. It is happening within you. I had gone to Kangundi believing I would serve a village with my seva. I returned knowing that the act of seva has served me beyond my imagination.
And perhaps that is the true nature of seva. We don’t perform it. We are invited into it. By the grace and blessings of Masters, Saints, and Higher Souls.
Meha Shree Saxena
Poet • Author • Storyteller • Sadhak • Proud Bharatwasi
Creative Director, JioHotstar
Emcee, Kangundi Bouldering Festival 2026 — Mumbai
सेवा भी साधना • साधना ही शक्ती • तद् एकम्
Sewa Bhi Sadhna | Sadhna Hi Shakti | Tad Ekam
Leave a Reply