Narmada Parikrama · on foot
The Narmada Parikrama is a walk people take at a turning point in their lives. Ours is now.
If you'd like to chip in for shoes, shelter, or a meal along the way
The walk
Last checked in from Barnai · 19 October 2026
A dip in the Narmada, two hours at a puja for Durga with prasad, bhandara and a pumpkin pig, chai at the pandit's house, and a night with one eye open in a smoky cellar at Sitaram Ashram in Barnai.
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Coffee made with stream water, a farewell to Avdesh and fifteen kilometres past mud houses with blue walls to the Belghat ashram. No kitchen, no toilet, and for the first time cooking on the dhuni ourselves.
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A Sankalp pooja, a bhandara and then finally walking: 10 km through the jungle with two dogs as guides, a closed ashram, three lovely guys and the best advice from a man who has chosen not to speak for four months.
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Poha and jalebi in Jabalpur, a super chill pandit, a meddling family, a waterfall full of plastic and a free meal where everyone is welcome. A day full of emotions, and we haven't walked a single step yet.
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The city gets ready for Navratri with flower tunnels and a temple of poles and cloth, while we look at apartments with Yasha's brother. Both still under construction, but it's starting to take shape.
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A walk through green, peaceful Bhopal, a morning at the hospital with Yasha's brother and then the wonderfully chaotic market. Even an Indian stomach loses to India now and then.
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Yasha's test results at the hospital, a relaxed day in Bhopal and a wedding anniversary that took Yasha a while to remember. Rounded off with cake at her youngest uncle's.
Read more →A stop at a hospital for Yasha, lots of treats at her youngest aunt's and a Diederik who had had enough for a moment. The first challenge isn't in our legs, but in our heads.
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A cow chilling on the platform, five hours on the train with an ever sicker Yasha and a not-so-fresh hotel in Bhopal. In a few weeks we sleep in ashrams and villages, so consider it training.
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A quiet day of blogging, afternoon naps and treats. According to the Hindu calendar 4 October is not a good day, so the start of the Narmada Parikrama moves to 11 October.
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Hunting for a sleeping mat in the traffic of Jabalpur, Yasha's mother's birthplace in Gotegaon, our first meeting with the Narmada and a swim in the river.
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Cycling between the cars of Delhi, the first letters of Hindi, saying goodbye to Ganesh at Ganesh Visarjan, and the night train to the family in Jabalpur.
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On 3 or 4 October we begin the Narmada Parikrama — and honestly, we are not quite ready. On route notes in Hindi, white kurtas with matching gamchas, and sorting everything out at the last minute.
Read more →Who we are
Indian, raised within reach of the Narmada. For her the walk is a return, toward something that has always felt like home.
Dutch, 38. The long journeys of his younger years never let go — every return to work brought the longing back. He never wanted the house-and-car kind of stability; he wanted the road, adventure, and life outside his comfort zone.
We're almost halfway through our lives, and it just feels right. We almost bought a house, and somewhere in the paperwork we realised we didn't want to be EMI people with a big house and a fancy job. We're done complaining about a life that keeps us busy but doesn't feel like ours anymore. The walk is a way of testing something simple: can we show up each day, respond to what's in front of us, and trust the path? And there's a dream at the end of it: one day we want to start a farm in India, built in the most earth-friendly way we can. Before we take that step, we want to really know the country — and how better than on foot, meeting people, learning the culture, and discovering what crosses our path.
Where it began · a summer in Portugal
Along the way
Snapshots from the weeks of getting ready — trains and streets, the river in monsoon flood, and the white kurta bought for the walk.
What the parikrama is
It's circular: there is no finish line, nothing to complete. It's devotional, part of a living practice that still belongs to the people who walk it. And it's Indian. A return for one of us, an arrival for the other, and a question we both carry: is this home? Was it ever?
People walk it to be, not to learn or prove anything. Some are letting go of grief, of a job that stopped fitting, of a self that stopped fitting. Others walk because their devotion asks them to.
You depend on people the whole way: for food, for a place to sleep, for help. Circle a river in exchange for almost nothing.
That line holds the whole thing.
Reva is the river's older name. Tradition asks you to keep her on your right the whole way round.
Our dream
As we move through villages and follow the river, we'll listen more than we plan. The walk itself will shape what Mushi Bagh becomes.
The walk is the first deliberate step toward making Mushi Bagh real.
When I think of Mushi Bagh, I don't see a finished place. I see moments.
I see a child standing still long enough to watch ants cross the soil. I hear goats, birds, and laughter moving through the day. I imagine food being cooked slowly, shared under trees, and eaten without hurry.
Mushi Bagh grows from a memory that has stayed with me since childhood: of feeling safe enough to imagine. Of watching ordinary life unfold and sensing that it was quietly magical. Chickens running. Grass moving in the wind. Mangoes dangling from the trees. Sunlight filling the hours.
Japanese
The tiny forms of life that make everything possible: insects, microbes, fungi, worms.
Hindi
Tiger. I love that the mightiest presence in the forest exists only because of what is small and unseen.
That is how I imagine Mushi Bagh: a place shaped by the invisible and the ordinary. Land treated as alive. Children who can play, read, and feel safe enough to dream. Women, food, and everyday work given their real worth. And a rhythm set by the river and the region, not by a schedule.
I don't have micro-plans for Mushi Bagh. That is deliberate. It begins with land, and with making room for imagination and care to take root.
Kindred spirits · where we look for the shape of it
Be part of it
The walk runs on kindness. If you'd like to travel with us in spirit, any of these means the world.
A name in a village along the Narmada, someone who might share a meal or a floor to sleep on.
A place to rest, a warm meal, a story told over dinner.
Write to us. A postcard waiting somewhere ahead is its own small miracle.