The Soil of Mandangad: A Journey Through Maharashtra’s Heart

Introduction: Where the Road Leads

What happens when you trade the chaos of Mumbai for the monsoon-soaked hills of Maharashtra’s Konkan? For me, it began with a vow, a battered backpack, and a longing to give back. This is the story of a journey—across landscapes, through communities, and into the heart of transformation. Along the way, I’ll share tips for traveling through Maharashtra so you can chart your own adventure.

Leaving Mumbai: The Pilgrim’s Departure

My Royal Enfield Himalayan sits idle in a Mumbai garage. So, I board a creaking state transport bus bound for Mandangad, a small town in Ratnagiri district. The bus is old, the seats are cracked and crammed with people, and the promise of new beginnings kept me company.

Three bags—my life after Ghana’s contract ended—hold clothes, books, essential personal items, and a vow: to give these belongings to those in need, a promise made on the path of Shiva’s Jyotirlingas. In my backpack, a Rudraksha bead from Trimbakeshwar and the manuscript draft of The Morph: Alchemy of the Animal anchor my dual mission: to visit sacred lingas and to weave this journey’s lessons into my book.

Travel Tip: State transport buses in Maharashtra are reliable but basic. Book tickets early, carry water and snacks, and bring a light blanket for overnight journeys.

Through the Konkan: Monsoon Roads and Midnight Promises

The bus weaves through the Ghats, the road a twisting ribbon through monsoon-drenched hills. The first half of the journey is a humid furnace—sweat-soaked shirts, the air thick with sea salt and wet earth. The second half turns stormy, rain battering the windows, the road slick with mud. Each jolt of the bus reminds me of my vow: to give, to write, to chase Shiva’s eternal light.

A fellow passenger, an old farmer, leans over and grins, “First time to Mandangad? The hills will test you, but they’ll teach you too.” His words echo as the bus finally rolls into Mandangad at 4 a.m., the town cloaked in pre-dawn mist. Exhausted but resolute, I step off, my three bags a heavy testament to the journey behind and the promises ahead.

Travel Tip: Monsoon season (June–September) transforms the Konkan into a lush paradise but also brings landslides and delays. Plan extra time and check local advisories.

Arrival at the Farm: A Sanctuary in the Hills

Dusk falls as I reach the permaculture farm in Negroli village, riding a local tuk-tuk past glowing turmeric fields. The air hums with crickets and the low, resonant murmur of the forest—a living symphony far from Mumbai’s clamor. Madhu and Sampada, the farm’s young founders, greet me with warm smiles.

“We left the city to build something real,” Sampada says, her eyes bright. “The earth is our guru,” Madhu adds, showing me their mud-brick house. Their vision—to farm, teach, and empower—resonates with my own pilgrimage.

Over a simple meal of dal, rice, and mango chutney on banana leaves, I share my vow to give away my Ghanaian belongings. Madhu suggests the local school and families in Negroli. I mention the heirloom tomato seeds from my last project in Ghana, tucked in my bag. Sampada’s face lights up—tomatoes are scarce here but vital for meals and market sales. Few days later we sketch plans for a monsoon-proof greenhouse, and I commit to a six-week stay to help build it.

Travel Tip: Many villages in Maharashtra welcome volunteers. If you want to help, ask before donating or joining projects—respect local needs and customs.

Building and Giving: Seeds of Change

Work on the greenhouse begins with Anjali, a local volunteer skilled in carpentry. We design it lean: bamboo poles, UV-resistant plastic, and a raised foundation to defy floods. The work is tough—chopping bamboo, covering it in tar, and chasing runaway plastic sheets in the wind. “Shiva’s testing our grit!” someone shouts, and laughter breaks the tension.

Planting the tomato seeds is a quieter ritual, each one pressed into the soil with care. At the village school, I see Madhu and Sampada’s impact: children learning organic farming, English, math, and Konkani storytelling. Their eyes shine with possibility.

One evening, over chai, Sampada reflects, “We traded paychecks for purpose.” Her words echo the lessons of the Jyotirlingas—resilience, clarity, and freedom—now rooted in the farm’s daily life.

By week five, the greenhouse stands—a 20-by-10-foot haven, its roof gleaming in the rain. We transplant the tomato seedlings, a promise of fruit and future harvests.

Travel Tip: Pack for all weather: rain gear, sturdy shoes, mosquito repellent, and a reusable water bottle are essentials in rural Maharashtra.

Celebration and Reflection: The Light of Prithvi Sadhana

The completion of the greenhouse is celebrated in true Konkan style—with a concert and dance from a local children's band that feels as much a blessing as a party. Anjali, his voice clear and soulful, sings a haunting Konkani sea ballad that seems to carry the spirit of the coast itself. Madhu, ever the gentle guide, offers a heartfelt prayer to the earth, his words echoing through the fields. Sampada, radiant with pride, shares a poem written by one of the village children, their laughter and excitement bubbling up around us like a spring.

But what truly makes this night unforgettable is the company. The local farmers and farmworkers, who welcomed me from the very first day, are the heart of this celebration. Their kindness is genuine, their smiles unguarded, and their laughter, even when I don’t understand their local dialect, feels energizing. The penultimate evening they share stories in a mix of Marathi, Konkani, and laughter, inviting me to dance, to eat, and to belong. I am struck by how open and generous they are—offering not just their hospitality, but their friendship, their wisdom, and their joy. In their company, I feel a sense of belonging I have rarely known.

The food is simple and pure—dal, rice, fresh vegetables, and chutneys made from the farm’s own produce, all served on banana leaves. Every meal here feels like a gift: clean food, clean air, and a sense of gratitude that infuses every bite. The fields and forests surrounding the farm are alive with energy, the soil studded with crystals that catch the morning light and make the place feel enchanted. There is a magic here, a sense that the land itself is alive and watching over us.

As music and laughter fill the air, I realize I am living some of the best days of my life. The farm is a sanctuary, a place where the world’s noise falls away and only what matters remains: community, purpose, and the beauty of the earth.

Nine Jyotirlingas—Somnath, Kedarnath, and Varanasi—still await, but Mandangad’s soil feels like a shrine in its own right. Life on the farm is not without its challenges: floods threaten the fields, composting is a daily lesson in patience, and the weight of my unfinished manuscript sometimes presses on my mind. Yet, it is Madhu’s unwavering vision, Sampada’s nurturing warmth, and the humor and resilience of the local community that anchor me. Their spirit, their laughter, and their kindness have become my compass.

This journey, like the brakeless ride that brought me here, has forged me anew. My vow and my book are now entwined in Shiva’s dance, and the magic of Mandangad’s soil will forever be a part of my story.

Your Offering, Your Story

If you’ve ever given, built, or taught—sowing seeds or dreams—your story matters. What tested your heart? Where did you find light? Share your journey in the comments below. Let’s create a circuit of transformation, one story at a time.

As my time in Mandangad draws to a close, the road ahead calls me southward—toward the sunlit shores and vibrant spirit of Goa. Known for its golden beaches, lush spice plantations, and a unique blend of Indian and Portuguese heritage, Goa is a place where every sunset feels like a celebration and every street hums with music and possibility. In my next article, I’ll trade the quiet magic of the Konkan hills for the colorful rhythms of Goa, exploring its hidden villages, ancient temples, and the stories that flow with the tide. Stay tuned—the journey is just beginning.

Tips for Traveling Through Maharashtra’s Konkan

• Best Time to Visit: October to February, after the monsoon, for clear skies and green landscapes.

• Getting Around: State buses are affordable; private taxis can be arranged in towns.

• Local Etiquette: Greet villagers with a smile; respect local customs, especially in temples and farms.

• What to Pack: Rain gear, sturdy shoes, mosquito repellent, and a reusable water bottle.

• Giving Back: Many villages welcome volunteers—ask before donating or helping, and support local initiatives.

  
  

What’s the most transformative journey you’ve taken? Share your story on X @themorph88.

I’d love to hear how travel has changed you. If you want to know more about my story through continents—https://a.co/d/i7IP1mD

With reverence and gratitude,

Agnius V.