There’s a small village in Vidarbha’s Wardha district that most maps barely highlight. It doesn’t claim grandeur, doesn’t parade its past with towering monuments or embellished plaques.
Yet, from this quiet corner, decisions were made that would help shape the future of an entire country. This is not a tale of conquest or conflict but of calm resolve and quiet work.
In an age when big cities drew attention with their noise and power, this village made its mark by staying small, thoughtful, and deeply rooted in purpose.
A Shift in Direction
The story begins long before the name Sevagram ever entered popular discourse. Known originally as Shegaon, it was a typical village, modest in infrastructure, overlooked by development, and distant from the machinery of politics.
In the early 1930s, Mahatma Gandhi vowed not to return to Sabarmati Ashram until India achieved independence.
After his release from imprisonment following the Salt Satyagraha, he searched for a new place to continue his work away from the distractions of urban life. That search led him to Wardha, thanks to an invitation from Jamnalal Bajaj.
It wasn’t long before Gandhi chose Shegaon, a few kilometres away, to settle. The location lacked basic amenities, but that’s precisely what drew him in. He wasn’t seeking comfort. He was seeking authenticity.
He moved there in 1936, at the age of 67, to live quietly with his wife Kasturba. But the work that followed was anything but small.
As the place attracted colleagues and collaborators, it evolved into a hub of thought, action, and experimentation. The name Sevagram, meaning ‘village of service’, was officially adopted in 1940, clearing up the confusion with another Shegaon in the region
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The Centre Without a Centrepiece
Sevagram Ashram became Gandhi’s base from 1936 to 1948. While other parts of the country saw mass protests, legislative debates, and press conferences, this village focused on something more foundational; the concept of daily living.
The Ashram didn’t rely on slogans or spectacle. It was grounded in the rhythm of manual work, shared meals, prayer, education, and healthcare.
Gandhi’s hut, known as the Bapu Kutir, was as modest as any other home in the village.
Even today, it retains its original character, resisting the kind of restoration that scrubs away time.
But Sevagram wasn’t about nostalgia. Gandhi used it as a practical ground to implement his principles. He demonstrated how khadi could replace industrial fabrics, how education could be meaningful without being expensive, and how self-governance could begin with village councils rather than central policies.
His idea of Nai Talim, or basic education, was tried and tested here. The notion was of learning through productive work, not rote memorisation. Schools in the village followed this idea, weaving learning into life rather than separating the two.
The Ashram also attracted thinkers and reformers from across the country. For every discussion on independence, there were simultaneous conversations about sanitation, farming techniques, and women’s health. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was real.
Seeds of Service
One of the less discussed but deeply significant developments at Sevagram was in the field of healthcare.
In 1938, Dr Sushila Nayar arrived at the Ashram, initially intending a short stay. But her encounter with Gandhi’s philosophy changed her course. When a cholera outbreak threatened the village, she took charge with limited resources and no formal support.
Encouraged by Gandhi, she responded not as an outsider bringing aid but as a community member doing what was needed.
She stayed on for a year as Gandhi’s physician, later returned after completing her medical degree, and actively took part in the Quit India Movement.
Her contributions went beyond treatment. She began building what would eventually become a structured healthcare system in the region, starting with a simple dispensary in 1944. It was an institutional response rooted in local need.
Sevagram didn’t treat healthcare as charity. It integrated it into daily life, alongside education, sanitation, and work. Gandhi’s belief that service must come from within a community rather than be imposed on it shaped this approach.
Over time, the village saw the establishment of institutions that took these values forward and acted as working models.
Present Without Pretence
Today, Sevagram Ashram covers nearly 400 acres. That might sound expansive, but the built-up space remains intentionally unassuming.
Mud-tiled roofs, bamboo fencing, open courtyards, and folk art still define the area. The structures haven’t been overtaken by modern materials or urban aesthetics. Instead, they echo the past with purpose, offering an environment that supports learning, reflection, and service.
The site is run by several organisations, including the Nai Talim Samiti and Kasturba Health Society. These bodies ensure that the Ashram isn’t merely preserved but continues functioning as a centre for education, healthcare, and rural development. The idea is to keep the Ashram relevant and not turn it into a relic.
Visitors attend programmes, participate in discussions, and learn about practical applications of Gandhi’s ideas.
The Gandhi Exhibition on the premises offers photographs and documents, not to celebrate a personality, but to provide insight into methods, mistakes, and moments of change. It’s meant to encourage thinking.
Among the most symbolic artefacts at the Ashram is the statue of the three monkeys of see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil. It’s an idea often reduced to a cliché, but in Sevagram, it regains meaning through context. Ethics was embedded in how the place functioned.
In recent years, the state government has taken steps to propose Sevagram as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
While such a title might bring global attention, the Ashram’s value isn’t in its fame. It’s in its refusal to become anything other than a space for work, thought, and quiet action.
The Value of Stillness in a Shifting World
In a country that often celebrates the loud, the large, and the fast-moving, Sevagram stands apart. It doesn’t claim to have answers for everything, but it insists that the questions are worth exploring.
It invites not admiration and participation. Walking through its pathways, there’s no rush to arrive anywhere. The village still speaks in the language of time spent meaningfully rather than time saved.
At a time when development is often equated with scale, Sevagram offers a different model, one that asks whether real progress is possible without first understanding the basics of living together, working together, and learning from each other.
Its story may have started with Gandhi, but its strength lies in the many people who continued to build on that foundation, quietly, consistently, without demanding recognition.
Sevagram stands quietly, offering lessons for those willing to look, listen, and perhaps stay a while. Not to remember but to learn.
References
Jamnalal Bajaj Foundation. (n.d.). Sevagram. Retrieved from https://www.jamnalalbajajfoundation.org/wardha/sevagram1
Gandhi Ashram Sevagram. (n.d.). Gandhi Resources: Sevagram Ashram, Wardha. Retrieved from https://www.gandhiashramsevagram.org/gandhi-resources/sevagram-ashram-wardha.php2
MK Gandhi Institute. (n.d.). Sevagram Ashram, Wardha. Retrieved from https://www.mkgandhi.org/museum/sevagram.php4
Wikipedia. (2025). Sevagram. Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sevagram5
Wardha District Administration. (n.d.). Sevagram Ashram. Retrieved from https://wardha.gov.in/en/tourist-place/sevagram-aashram/
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