20/01/2026
Day 15 | Matwad to Dandi | 5km
| 17 January 2026 |
On the final day of the march, the original 9 core walkers were joined by 5 more veterans, swelling the group to fourteen. They fondly called this late-joining contingent the “*B-Complex group*”—new faces bringing renewed energy, fresh ideas, and an unmistakable lift in spirit during the last three days. The timing felt right. As the destination drew near, the collective purpose seemed to widen rather than conclude.
The final leg was deliberately planned as a short walk, allowing space for others to participate. *Gandhi ji has taught the walkers inclusivity over exclusivity*. Dandi, after all, was never meant to be reached in isolation. By morning, the road bore witness to this intent. People from every walk of life converged—men and women who had flown into Surat just to walk the last five kilometres, nearly seventy others joining along the way: sarpanches, NCC cadets, police personnel, children, villagers. What mattered was not distance covered, but shared presence. Though the road was modern tarmac, the spirit was unmistakably that of 1930.
Before the final act, the walkers paused at the Prarthana Sthal, beneath the banyan tree where Mahatma Gandhi had prayed on the evening of 5 April 1930, a night before breaking the salt law. Inscribed below were the words in Gujarati: “*God is Truth and Truth is God*.” Nearly a century later, the place retained an extraordinary stillness—as if time itself had chosen to tread lightly.
The National Salt Satyagraha Memorial unfolded like a living archive. Spread across 14 acres, it was designed with such depth and sensitivity that one could spend an entire day absorbing its layers. Twenty-four granite murals, crafted in five metals (panch dhatu), depicted various aspects of the original march. For the walkers—especially the *core 9* who had themselves walked through all 24 villages—the connection was immediate and deeply personal.
One of the most moving moments came during the symbolic act of making salt at the memorial. *It felt as though an invisible umbilical cord—or perhaps a modern USB cable*—had connected the present walkers to those of 1930, transferring thought, resolve, and intent across generations. The act was humbling, satisfying, and profoundly introspective—the perfect culmination of 425 kilometres on foot.
The historical irony was not lost on anyone. After the original salt-making, the devious British authorities had attempted to destroy the site by deploying hundreds of horses to churn the mud and salt, making extraction impossible. Yet an unnamed Indian had outwitted them—digging a small pit, covering it with leaves and thorns, forcing the horses to veer away. *That untouched patch became the exact spot where Gandhiji and others collected salt and boiled it in a pan, preserved to this day at Saifee Villa*.
Standing together, the group posed for a photograph beside a tall, imposing statue of Gandhiji. Unlike the familiar hunched images of a frail man leaning on a stick, this statue portrayed him striding forward—upright, muscular, eyes lifted, purposeful. It was the same Gandhiji, but seen through the lens of a confident, resurgent nation—*an unmistakable metaphor for Viksit Bharat 2047*.
As the walk ended, a curious emptiness set in. After days governed by rhythm, routine, and purpose, there was suddenly nothing left to walk towards. Yet when the black sand beach of Dandi finally came into view, the feeling transformed. One of the walkers stepped onto the sand, knelt, and bowed his forehead to the ground. Politics, narratives, and ideologies dissolved. This was hallowed land. Tears flowed freely—an honest convergence of effort, fatigue, achievement, and quiet pride.
A handful of sand was gathered and allowed to slip through the fingers, its texture memorised, a small portion carried back home.
The group then explored the memorial in detail, guided by Kalubhai, a sociology scholar who brought history alive with clarity and conviction. They visited Saifee Villa, learned of the movement’s deep impact across India’s hinterland, and walked around the man-made lake symbolising sustainability. The entire complex is net-zero, powered by solar “trees” whose stainless-steel leaves generate energy.
Among the most evocative installations was a line of 78 life-size bronze statues—walkers frozen mid-stride, led by Gandhiji, allowing visitors to walk among them. Dandi walkers amongst Dandi walkers, separated by 95 years.
NCC cadets performed a graceful yoga display.
The drive back from Dandi to Ahmedabad was as if we were visiting the Dandi path in reverse and it had been done a decade back by a scholar Dr Harmony Siganporia and she clearly brings out the whole experience in a book titled Walking from Dandi - in search of vikas.
A warm send-off awaited in Ahmedabad. A short slideshow traced the journey, followed by the sharing of T-shirts, badges, and mementoes with all who had supported the march. Then came an unexpected moment—a magnificent memento, secretly selected and sponsored by one of the walkers: a medallion embossed with Gandhiji, a book, and a stainless-steel bookmark bearing his walking silhouette. A befitting memory to last a lifetime.
Late into the night, small groups gathered, conversations flowed, and gradually the march dissolved—flights to catch, drives to make, life resuming its pace.
Yet the echoes of Dandi lingered.
The true immensity of what had been done had not yet fully sunk in. Walking in the footprints left almost a decade ago—under far harsher conditions, driven by a purpose far greater than endurance or camaraderie—left the walkers deeply humbled. It was a quiet privilege to retrace the path of a man who reshaped the destiny of a nation, and in doing so, to rediscover something enduring within themselves.
~Lt Gen Anil Puri, a Dandi path walker
