From Red to Rudraksha: Swami Anandavanam Bharati’s Journey from Communism to Sanatana Dharma
Image courtesy: Pradeep Krishnan
As soon as the news of Swami Anandavanam Bharati, a Keralite saint, being appointed as Mahamandaleshwar of the Juna Akhada was flashed across digital and print media, I was intrigued. Learning about his unusual background—particularly his deep involvement with the Communist movement—I felt an urge to meet him and understand what had led a staunch Communist to renounce political life and embrace the path of Hindu monkhood.
Born as Salil into the Menokki family of Chalakkudy, Thrissur, Kerala, he is the son of Sethumadhavan and Anandavalli. A bright student from the beginning, Salil pursued his graduate and postgraduate studies in political science at Kerala Varma College, Thrissur. During this period, he was actively involved in student politics, serving as Unit Secretary and later as Vice President of the Thrissur District Committee of the Students Federation of India (SFI), the student wing of the Communist Party of India (Marxist). After completing his studies, he worked with the Malayalam daily, “Mathrubhumi”. Later, he also managed his own media consultancy firm.
Alongside his professional life, Salil was deeply engaged with Malayalam literature and culture. His short story “Shikhamani” was made into a film. Despite his political and literary engagements, he carried within him a growing quest for higher truths, drawing him towards the spiritual essence of Indian culture and philosophy.
Responding to this inner call, Salil eventually renounced worldly life, taking sannyas in an authentic spiritual lineage. He was initiated as Swami Anandavanam Bharati, and on January 26, 2025, at the Kumbh Mela Nagari in Prayagraj, he was ceremoniously installed as Mahamandaleshwar of the Juna Akhada, the largest and oldest Akhada in India. This was a rare honor: Swami Anandavanam is the second Keralite ever to be elevated to this revered position, the first being the great scholar and saint, the late Swami Kashikanandagiri Maharaj.
Swami Anandavanam shared insights into this remarkable journey—from Communist activism to the heights of spiritual leadership.
Two of the most important influences in your life were your grandfather and maternal uncle. What lessons did you learn from them?
There were no specific lessons in the form of instructions or directives, but both of them shaped me profoundly through their lives and attitudes. My grandfather was a simple man, engaged in farming and taking care of the family temple. My uncle, on the other hand, was deeply involved in intellectual and political life. He was the founding editor of Pada Bhedam, an alternative publication that strongly supported the Naxalite ideology, and was also active in theatre at a time when the Communist movement was sweeping across Kerala.
Though they stood at opposite poles ideologically, both of them created an open and free atmosphere at home. They never imposed their beliefs on others, nor did they ever feel embarrassed or threatened when someone thought or acted differently from them. This gave us, the younger generation, a valuable sense of responsible freedom—the ability to think independently and at the same time accept the consequences of our choices.
In our home, discussions were open, and we children were treated as equals. Nobody dictated what we should study, what career we should pursue, or how we should live. Instead, we were trusted to find our own way. This absence of pressure or opposition allowed me to develop my individuality with confidence. Looking back, I feel that the greatest lesson they gave me was not through words, but through the space they created—showing us that true freedom is meaningful only when coupled with personal responsibility.
What happened in your life after that?
That was my first real step into the spiritual realm. Since 1995, I had been traveling extensively across India, and journeys became a regular part of my life. At one point, when I had to stay away from home due to a legal case, I happened to visit the Kumbh Mela in 2001 almost by chance. I spent five days there on the banks of the Ganga, even sleeping outdoors. Yet, at that time, the experience did not bring about any profound change in me, and I continued to hold on to the leftist ideology I had long followed.
Later, in 2004–2005, when I entered the field of journalism, my work gave me opportunities to live in ashrams, interact closely with monks, and attend their discourses and classes. Through these experiences, I began to see Indian culture, philosophy, legends, and myths from a perspective that was entirely different from what I had known until then. This exposure gradually inspired me to study these subjects more deeply.
It was during this period of reporting that my transformation truly began. The encounters awakened in me a thirst for inquiry, and I realized that what I had previously dismissed or understood only superficially was, in fact, far more profound. Gradually,
I came to see that much of what I had absorbed from political ideology—presented as scientific and rational—was, in reality, hollow. In contrast, through interaction with sages and scholars, I discovered the depth of thought embedded in our traditions, where science and spirituality often met.
Swamiji, please explain the Juna Akhada and its activities.
In general, monks of the akhadas are broadly divided into two streams. The first are the Jnana Margis, who dedicate themselves to the study of scriptures and philosophy through monasteries. The second are the Sadhana Margis, ascetics who take up arms when necessary to protect Dharma.
According to tradition, the akhada system began when Sri Adi Shankaracharya, before his Mahaprasthanam, initiated ten orphaned children at Uttarkashi into monastic life. The akhadas thus came into being as institutions where monks carried both a kamandalu (water pot) symbolizing spiritual practice and a bhala (spear) symbolizing the readiness to defend dharma if required. The bhala is also considered a manifestation of their chosen deity.
The akhadas trace their spiritual lineage to Lord Dattatreya, revered as their original Guru. The first akhada was established at Junagadh in the Girnar Hills of Gujarat, where his presence is said to sanctify the place. Later, during Aurangzeb’s attack on the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, the akhada headquarters shifted to Kashi at the invitation of the King of Kashi.
Since then, the akhadas have stood as monastic orders dedicated to both the protection of dharma and its propagation across society. The monks, trained for spiritual discipline as well as defense, have historically risen to safeguard temples, ashrams, and centers of learning whenever they came under threat.
Today, there are seven principal akhadas. Of these, six—except the Agni Akhada, which only grants initiation to brahmacharis—are known as the Naga sanyasis. Apart from their role in defense, the Naga ascetics also manage temples, run ashrams, and travel widely across India as Parivrajakas, spreading dharma through teaching, practice, and service.
What activities does Swamiji intend to undertake in Kerala?
The most significant contribution of Adi Shankaracharya, who is revered as one at the feet of the Lord, was the establishment of the monastic system in India. He institutionalized ascetic orders, organized sacred gatherings such as the Kumbh Mela, and revived temples across the country.
Unfortunately, in the centuries that followed, not a single Malayali—and indeed, no one from the entire Indian subcontinent—was elevated within this monastic hierarchy to positions like that of a Mahamandaleshwar. Kerala, in particular, stands apart as perhaps the only place in India where monks are not accorded the respect they receive elsewhere. While in most regions people eagerly welcome monks, offering them food and shelter, in Kerala, with few exceptions, there has often been a tendency to look down upon them.
It is with this background that our foremost objective is to establish a branch of the Junagadh Akhada in Kerala, which would serve as a coordinating center for South India. This would not only help in organizing activities related to Dharmapracharana (the propagation of dharma) but also in providing structured training for those who aspire to join the Naga lineage and dedicate themselves to the protection of dharma. At the same time, it would bring together monks from various ashrams under a common platform, strengthen their collective efforts, and offer moral and organizational support to spiritual centers across the region.
What could be the reason behind Kerala not respecting Hindu monks?
The main reason for the social decline in Kerala lies in a certain inversion that has taken place in the socio-political sphere. Although I am the first Malayali to serve as Mahamandaleshwar based in Kerala, I am not the first Malayali to hold this title. About 50–60 years ago, three Malayali saints were elevated as Mahamandaleshwars of the Niranjini Akhada. They were based in Gujarat, Rishikesh, and Kashi, and commanded great respect across India.
Among them, the most renowned was Swami Kashikanandagiri Maharaj of Dakshinamurthy Math, Kashi. Widely regarded during his lifetime as one of the most learned monks in India, his fame spread throughout the country. It was from him that we received our mantra initiation. In fact, during the time of these three Malayali Mahamandaleshwars, many spiritual aspirants from Kerala rose to prominence in North Indian monasteries, becoming respected monks, teachers, and even heads of institutions.
So strong was the southern contribution to Himalayan spiritual life that people often joked that the Himalayas were “ruled by holy men from the South.” Saints like Swami Sivananda, Swami Tapovanam, and Swami Purushottamananda left a profound imprint on the spiritual landscape of India. In their time, rulers and ordinary people in Kerala alike welcomed monks, offered them facilities, and treated them with honor and respect. It was in such an atmosphere that many ashrams were established across the state.
But in the last five or six decades, Kerala has witnessed a dramatic shift. Political changes and the spread of a distorted form of materialism, hostile to dharma, have altered the socio-cultural fabric. It is important to clarify that materialism itself is not the problem. In ancient India, when culture and spirituality flourished side by side, material prosperity reached great heights. India was then among the richest civilizations of the world, pioneering in science, technology, and innovation, while still deeply rooted in dharma.
What happened in Kerala, however, was different. Here, materialism became associated not with progress, but with a pride in irreligion and immorality. Those who propagated such values captured the political space and, over time, polluted the wider society.
Swamiji, as you are speaking about Indian culture, Hinduism, and Sanskrit philosophy, you will be termed as reactionary, fascist, and fundamentalist.
What others choose to brand us with is of no concern to a monk. An individual may be good or bad, but he can only speak from what lies within him. A monk, however, guided by the mandate of Prakritiswari and rooted in the dharma of his order and the Guru’s lineage, continues steadfastly on his path. Who supports him, who opposes him, who praises or criticizes him—none of these matters. That detachment, that inner strength, is the true path of a monk.
What is the solution to the grave social issues that we face today—alcohol and drug abuse, family violence, suicides, and divorces?
Recently, a video of a prominent Muslim political leader of Kerala, known for his opposition to our dharma, went viral. In it, he expressed regret over the condition of his own religious community, pointing out that despite being raised under strict religious schooling and discipline, a large number among them are involved in drunkenness, violence, and criminal activities. In contrast, he noted, individuals from communities without such rigid systems of control were less frequently found in these destructive paths. What he did not explicitly say—but what can be inferred—is that the influence of rigid, externally imposed discipline may in fact be driving such behavior.
The solution to this crisis does not lie in abstract philosophy or grand spiritual projects. The real answer is simple and practical: we must restore the spiritual practices that once sustained our households. In earlier times, every Hindu home had the practice of namajapam—daily chanting of the Divine Name. A person who chants sincerely is far less likely to go astray. Repetition of the Divine Name awakens wisdom and moral awareness within; even if one slips, conscience restrains him and brings him back to the right path.
At the root of today’s social ills lies psychological pressure—the stress felt by children, youth, and adults alike as they struggle to cope with the demands of modern life. This pressure, like steam trapped in a cooker, eventually seeks an outlet—often in destructive ways.
Yet, hope remains. Among ordinary people in India, cultural, religious, and moral values are still alive; we have not entirely lost our spiritual grounding. What is needed now is a revival of the traditions that once gave us strength: devotional singing, pilgrimages, darshan of deities, visits to ashrams, participation in satsangs, and service to society. These practices awaken inner strength, provide relief from stress, and make individuals mentally resilient.
The media and so-called hyper-intellectuals often mock the participation of Malayalis in the Kumbh Mela. What is your response to them?
Their mockery is rooted in fear—and it is entirely misplaced. Since 2001, I have participated in many Kumbh Melas. In earlier years, perhaps 500 or 1,000 Malayalis would attend. This year, at the Mahakumbh Mela, no fewer than three lakh Malayalis participated. They overcame numerous challenges—harsh weather, travel difficulties, accommodation problems, and financial burdens—to reach Kashi in the name of Sanatana Dharma.
This massive participation reflects the awakening of Hindu consciousness in Kerala. Beyond spiritual devotion, it is also a powerful demonstration of the strength and unity of the Indian Hindu community. Participants openly declared their faith, paying homage to monks, visiting temples, and proudly sharing their experiences on social media. Statements like “I and my family participated in the rituals” are no longer whispered in shame; they are proclaimed with pride.
Earlier, many hesitated to wear a Rudraksha mala or openly express their Hindu identity, constrained by a sense of inferiority. Today, Malayalis are confidently announcing: “I am Hindu, I am part of this great culture, and I am proud to participate in the Mahasangh.”
The sheer scale of Kerala’s participation naturally unsettled those who have long opposed Dharma. Many of them mocked and derided these efforts, but the overwhelming turnout is a clear indicator of a cultural and spiritual revival. It signals that Hindu consciousness, once suppressed through threats and defamation, is now asserting itself boldly.
This awakening is visible in multiple spheres—strong public engagement, campaigns against immorality in films, and growing pride in Sanatana Dharma. Those who once dismissed our faith will find it increasingly difficult to challenge or undermine it. The message is clear: the Hindu community in Kerala is stronger than ever, confident in its identity, and committed to the values of Dharma.
Many critics and political leaders have questioned or opposed Hinduism and Hindutva, with some even arguing that Sanatana Dharma should be opposed or abolished like viruses. How do you respond to such criticisms, and what makes Hinduism fundamentally different from other religious movements?
Not only did many fail to respond critically, but several political leaders, both at the national level and in Kerala, openly supported such ideas. These individuals, either out of misunderstanding or deliberate misrepresentation, once claimed that Hinduism and Hindutva were separate. Today, their argument has taken an extreme turn: they assert that Sanatana Dharma itself should be opposed and even destroyed. How can anyone rationally suggest that dharma, the guiding principle of life, is to be abandoned?
We must defend dharma, demonstrating the strength, uniqueness, and relevance of Hindutva. While other religious movements have historically spread through coercion, force, or repression, Hinduism is fundamentally different. It offers freedom and responsibility—a vast gift to humanity. Unlike many religions, Sanatana Dharma does not seek to convert people through pressure, ceremony, or coercion. Yet, even without inducements, curious, freedom-seeking, and spiritually inclined individuals from around the world continue to embrace it.
The key reason is that Sanatana Dharma prioritizes freedom, spiritual advancement, and personal responsibility over wealth, power, or oppression. As Lord Krishna tells Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, after imparting complete instruction, he allows Arjuna to act according to his own discretion. This demonstrates the extraordinary regard Indian sages had for human logic, consciousness, and freedom. Only the sages of India upheld such complete personal freedom, for they had realized the futility of worldly attachments and renounced everything.
Those who view religion as a means to power or wealth naturally fear such freedom. The growing spiritual awakening in India understandably unsettles them. This explains why there is now a push to eradicate Sanatana Dharma itself. Yet, the massive turnout at the Kumbh Mela stands as a living response—a powerful statement of faith, resilience, and the enduring appeal of Hindu consciousness.
The call to eradicate Sanatana Dharma recently emerged from Tamil Nadu. Yet, the common people of that state—home to the largest number of Hindu temples in India—remain deeply devout. Why, then, has significant moral and social awareness not been awakened among them?
Unfortunately, the distorted political ideas and inflammatory speeches of certain leaders often influence ordinary people, even though the full context rarely reaches them. These leaders, despite their public calls against dharma, frequently participate in temple rituals, make offerings, and organize devotional gatherings in the name of Lord Murugan, the most revered deity among the Tamil people.
Another pressing concern is the widespread religious conversions in Tamil Nadu, often exploiting the ignorance or economic disadvantages of the populace. These conversions are frequently accompanied by coercion, temptation, and sometimes even violence. Recently, near Madurai, efforts to convert locals were met with resistance, and in Coimbatore, a villager and a rationalist were tragically killed during religious conflicts. Disturbingly, such incidents often receive tacit support from local authorities.
Yet, it is worth noting that even in regions of North India, historically plagued by unrest—such as Uttar Pradesh—peaceful public life has been restored under firm and fair leadership. People can travel safely at night, and law and order are effectively maintained, despite challenging terrain and population density.
The lesson is clear: reactionary and anti-dharma forces can only be countered by awakening a strong consciousness within the Hindu community—a unity and awareness that empowers society to defend itself spiritually, morally, and socially.
You once said, “I took up sannyasa for the betterment of society.” Can you please clarify?
The foundation of a stable society is morality. A strong and awakened community, guided by ethical principles, ensures stability and progress. In every sphere—religion, economy, industry, agriculture, and politics—people must lead with consciousness and integrity. Only then can society become strong, prosperous, and vibrant. To achieve this, numerous programs and initiatives are being planned and implemented to cultivate awareness, values, and active participation across all levels of community life.
How do you view the revival of India and the Hindu renaissance, Swamiji?
India gained independence from centuries of foreign rule in 1947, yet in many ways, the legacy of the old Mughal and colonial systems persisted. For decades, successive governments struggled to restore India’s self-respect and cultural identity.
Since 2014, however, there has been a significant shift. The government and society have increasingly embraced India’s own schools of thought, heritage, and values. This is visible in many spheres—from the recognition of India as a self-respecting nation on the world stage to the restoration of monuments and places of national significance in the names of Indian leaders rather than colonial or oppressive figures. Even in Kerala, which often claims to oppose such changes, initiatives like renaming the VJT Hall in Thiruvananthapuram to Ayyankali Hall reflect this broader movement.
At the heart of this revival are individuals steadfast in Hindu Dharma, who, despite hardships and neglect, have maintained their spiritual identity, devotion to their clan deities, and commitment to tradition. Figures like Mahatma Gandhi, disciples of Sadananda Swami, and others who stayed at places such as Brahma Nishta Math, exemplify this dedication. Their efforts were aimed at strengthening society from within, cultivating awareness, and guiding the nation toward its true heritage.
Today, the world is taking note: people everywhere seek to understand Indian culture, philosophy, and spirituality. The Hindu renaissance is not just a revival of religion—it is the reawakening of India’s moral, cultural, and spiritual strength.
How do you view the narrative that some self-proclaimed intellectuals and left-wing thinkers in Kerala are trying to create, that North Indians are ignorant and worthless, and that only Keralites are super-smart?
An important point to note is that since independence, India has faced only one period of overt authoritarianism—the brutal 19-month Emergency. In the general elections that followed, the common people of North India, including many illiterate villagers, decisively rejected that authoritarianism and restored democracy. In contrast, a significant portion of the people of Kerala, at that time, voted in favor of the government that had imposed such oppression.
The experience of the Malayali common man has often been one of vulnerability—caught between forces beyond their control, like a train’s wheels, with many losing their lives or livelihoods. Yet, there has always been a certain innate simplicity and dedication in North Indians, who respond to challenges with honesty and resilience. Unfortunately, in Kerala, this same simplicity is often overshadowed by hypocrisy. Even progressive thinkers have acknowledged that the Malayali Progressive ideology can be inconsistent—like a shoe that slips at the threshold before stepping inside.
Renowned novelist Sundara Ramaswamy once observed that a hypocrite often appears to embrace progressivism more than a genuine progressive, yet secretly prefers conservatism. The true realist, he noted, is the one who engages honestly with reality. In Kerala, many so-called progressives fall short of this standard, and this reflects the general socio-political situation in the state.
Are you concerned about the future of Hindus in India?
I have no concerns. The reason is that we have already successfully overcome far worse situations—foreign religious invasions, various conspiracies, and attempts at suppression. We must understand that Sanatana Dharma and Hindu culture have survived challenges that no other civilization in the world has endured in merely three generations (about 150 years) of foreign domination. Civilizations such as Greek, Roman, Maya, Inca, and African cultures today exist only in museums.
India, however, continues to maintain its cultural identity. Even after thousands of years under foreign rule, enduring all forms of violence and cruelty, this culture remains alive and thriving in India today. Therefore, Sanatana Dharma will survive any crisis.
Today, numerous seekers around the world are abandoning Semitic religions—which have been channels of aggression and temptation—and are coming into the streams of Sanatana Dharma without any pressure, propaganda, or inducement. Among scholars and observers of civilizations worldwide, Sanatana Dharma is recognized as the most inclusive and inspiring system, encouraging humanity toward goodness.
At the same time, Hindus themselves must step forward to protect this Dharma. As the principle goes, “Dharma protects those who protect it” (Dharmo rakshati rakshitah).
While Buddhism, Jainism, and many other Indian religious traditions have historically harmonized with Sanatana Dharma, why has such harmony not been possible with Islam and Christianity?
It was the British who divided our diverse philosophical streams and paths—our panths—into separate religions. In reality, many of these paths, like those followed by the disciples of Sri Ramana Maharshi, Sri Ramakrishna, Mata Amritanandamayi Amma, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, and Sri Jaggi Vasudev, were all different avenues of self-discovery under a single guiding principle or Guru.
Not only the two religions you mentioned—Islam and Christianity—but even communism cannot be reconciled with Sanatana Dharma. The reason is fundamental: all Indian philosophical traditions, including those of Buddha, Mahavira, and Guru Nanak, are centered on inner inquiry and self-realization. In contrast, all Semitic religions, as well as communism, focus primarily on power, wealth, and external conformity. They seek to dominate, convert, and impose their views, rather than encourage personal spiritual exploration.
Interestingly, violent conflicts often occur within these Semitic systems themselves—whether the church disputes in Kerala, Sunni-Shia conflicts in Islam, or rivalries between communist factions. These conflicts stem from a desire to assert dominance and convert others to their path. Their approach is inherently rigid: “our way is the only truth.”
Sanatana Dharma, by contrast, is vast and accommodating. Its philosophies are capable of integrating diverse visions over time, provided there is openness to truth and self-realization. Synchronization is possible only when one is willing to experience and recognize the universal truth, just as sunlight illuminates everything it touches—but cannot penetrate a closed jar. This is why reconciliation with rigid, conversion-focused systems is difficult in the present context.
What should be the goal of human life?
The goal of human life is to live morally. When we do so, we naturally experience the happiness that Indian culture has always defined as true fulfillment. A moral life is simple: before taking any action, listen to your own conscience. As Sree Narayana Gurudev beautifully put it, “Whatever one practices for one’s own happiness, one should also practice for the happiness of others.”
What is Swamiji’s perspective on the current claim by some Leftist groups that Sree Narayana Guru was not a Hindu monk?
There is no ambiguity about Gurudev’s stance—he himself clearly stated, “Sankara’s religion is the same as ours.” He consistently upheld Sanatana Dharma in all discussions, even when disciples raised questions about conversion or the path of a noble life.
In his life and works, Gurudev lived and taught Sanatana Dharma. He established institutions such as the Shivagiri hill temple, Sharada Devi, and Advaita Ashrama, all grounded in dharmic principles.
Even when confronted with mischievous or provocative questions—like whether one could drink cow’s milk but not eat it, or the proper way to handle the cremation of a mother—he responded thoughtfully, always upholding Sanatana Dharma. Throughout his life, Gurudev was a devout Hindu, practicing dharma in its fullness and exemplifying a righteous life.
Swamiji’s message:
Every Hindu should make it a habit to chant the Lord’s name at least once a day. Even amidst the morning crowd or after a bath, one should light a lamp and spend at least five minutes in prayer and chanting. If possible, this practice can be continued in the evening as well.
Equally important is family unity. Set aside daily time for everyone in the household to sit together—parents, children, and elders—to discuss daily matters, share experiences, and spend time together. Open communication, sharing meals, and valuing the wisdom of elders are simple yet powerful practices that can bring profound positive change in life.
For readers, being aligned with dharma is essential. Each reader, as a Dharma Senani, should encourage others to read the magazine, thereby participating in the propagation and preservation of Sanatana Dharma.
My wife Sreelakshmi and I bowed reverently at Swamiji’s feet, received his prasad with gratitude, and bid him farewell. As we stepped away, a profound sense of calm and inspiration lingered with us—a quiet reminder of the depth of wisdom, humility, and spiritual strength that he embodies. The encounter was not merely a meeting with a monk; it was an immersion into a living tradition of Sanatana Dharma, a reminder of the values of discipline, compassion, and moral courage that guide our lives.
Walking away, I carried with me more than prasad—I carried a renewed sense of purpose, a rekindled faith in the resilience of our culture, and an enduring impression of how a single individual, grounded in truth and Dharma, can illuminate the path for countless others. It was a moment of spiritual awakening, a personal testament to the power of living in alignment with one’s conscience, and a memory that will continue to inspire long after the farewell.
