The Salted Days – Day Fifteen
Matwad to Dandi| 17 January 2026
As I sit down to write this, a strange sensation comes over me—a sense of emptiness. As if I have done nothing other than travel on foot to this place called Dandi for 425 kilometres. There is a mix of happiness and sadness too. I am reminded of the barakhanas in my regiment, where a slightly tipsy senior JCO, in his farewell speech, would often say—eyes welling up—
“एक आँख से खुशी के आँसू, क्योंकि Srinivasan साहिब Instructor बनके जा रहे हैं, और दूसरी आँख दुख के आँसू, क्योंकि Srinivasan साहिब हमें छोड़ के जा रहे हैं.”
Today, I know exactly what that gentleman meant.
There is a void now—a sudden absence of structure, purpose, and forward pull that had driven us for so many days. But life must go on.
Our day began at 6:30 am as we rushed to board our transport to Matwad Yatri Niwas. Today, the moment was celebratory. NCC cadets, locals, police—the works. After a quick puja and many heartfelt thank-yous, we started walking toward Dandi. Every step took us closer. The feet seemed eager, carrying us faster. The mind was blank with excitement. A thick mist tried to hide the sunshine, but it could not conceal the happiness on our faces.
The sight of the flat, black sandy beach of Dandi gave me goosebumps. We had done it.
I walked down the steps to the sand, went down on my knees, and touched my forehead to the ground. Politics, history, narratives, ideologies aside—this was hallowed land. Tears welled up, and I have no shame in admitting that. Effort, fatigue, accomplishment, and deep pride all converged in that moment. My emotions led the parade.
I gathered a handful of sand and let it trickle through my fingers, feeling its granularity. I kept some to take back home.
A hearty breakfast followed—hot dhokla, sev khamani (a crumbled version of khaman), paratha, and herbal tea—organised by the local police. After stuffing ourselves, we visited the Prarthana Mandir under a banyan tree where Gandhiji had held prayer meetings during his stay in Dandi.
We then went to the beautifully designed National Salt Satyagraha Museum, spread over 14 acres. We were escorted by Kalubhai, a sociology doctorate and our guide for the day. He spoke eloquently about the Salt Satyagraha and took us to Saifee Villa, where Gandhiji stayed for more than a week after the Dandi March in January 1930. We learnt about the impact of the movement deep in India’s hinterland.
We, then walked around the large man-made lake, where the concept of sustainability is incorporated. The entire memorial is net-zero energy, powered by "solar trees" with panels designed as stainless steel leaves, providing power for lighting and facilities. We walked through a winding pathway which showcases 24 bass relief murals depicting the 24 days of the original Salt March—each panel capturing a moment of history in sculpture. And then came the grand finale: a larger-than-life bronze statues of 78 walkers, strung out in a ragged line, frozen mid-stride, led by Gandhiji with a piece of cloth tied on his head. One of the few places where one could actually walk among the walkers—Dandi walkers amongst Dandi walkers, 95 years apart. I cannot describe the glow of quiet joy on my face.
Another striking creation followed—a 5 m high statue of Gandhiji, unlike the images we usually see. This one stands tall, muscular, chest out, chin raised, long stride forward, eyes looking ahead rather than down. It stands beneath Two prominent stainless steel A-frames which flank the statue. In the evenings, the arms of this structure are lit from within—powerful and evocative. Each A-frame holds a glass cube, representing pure salt, illuminated by a "Pyramid of Light" at night as a metaphor for resistance.
Time slipped by as we watched naval NCC cadets give a scintillating yoga display. We then moved to a dedicated interactive salt-making facility designed to let visitors recreate the historic act of making salt. It features a set of solar-powered clay pots or vessels used for salt production. This activity allowed us to collect a "pinch of salt" for ourselves and taste it. We got some additional small bottles of this salt as mementoes to carry home.
More transport had been arranged to take us back to Ahmedabad with our luggage. At 10:50 am DST —ten minutes ahead of plan we boarded and sped off.
A grand send-off party awaited us in Ahmedabad—for ourselves and for everyone who had directly or indirectly helped make this march possible. We presented a short slideshow showcasing our journey, which was warmly received. As a group, we distributed T-shirts, badges, and mementoes to everyone present, including ourselves.
Then came a surprise. A magnificent memento—kept a closely guarded secret—had been designed for all walkers and sponsored by one of our own. Only Anil, the architect of this entire event, knew about it. Even the sponsor didn’t know the final form. It was an outstanding piece of art: a large medallion embossed with Gandhiji, a book on Gandhiji, and a stainless-steel bookmark bearing his walking silhouette, all tucked neatly into a small box. A prized possession we will all carry home.
We gathered in small groups, talked late into the night, and then slowly dispersed. Flights to catch, drives to make—back to real life the next morning, carrying memories and mementoes in equal measure.
And yet, The Echoes of Dandi will continue for some time to come.
The immensity of what we have done has not yet sunk in. I feel deeply humbled that I could walk in the footprints left 95 years ago—under far harsher conditions, with a purpose far greater than endurance or camaraderie—by a man who transformed the destiny of a nation.
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