There's a particular kind of travel where the getting-there is inseparable from the going. The road to Sridhara Ashram in Varadahalli, a small village about six kilometres from Sagara in Karnataka, is exactly that kind of journey.
For devotees Sreelakshmi and her husband, a visit to Sri Mookambika Temple at Kollur in October 2024 opened up an unexpected route: a direct bus, roughly 80 kilometres away, to the ashram of Sri Sridhara Swamiji — a saint whose life of silence and tapas drew thousands to these forested hills in the 1950s and whose presence, people here will tell you, hasn't really left.
A bus ride through the Ghats that earns its own story
The early morning bus from Kollur is the kind you don't book in advance — you get on, find no seats, and spend the first hour swaying through sharp bends in the Western Ghats, laughing at your own lack of balance. Packed with devotees, villagers and pilgrims, it's chaotic in the most alive way.
Midway, the bus stops at Sigandur Chowdeshwari Temple, nestled in dense greenery above the backwaters of the Sharavathi River. The presiding deity, Goddess Chowdeshwari, is revered across Karnataka as a fierce but compassionate guardian — pilgrims believe appeals made here are never ignored.
Then comes the part that catches first-time visitors off guard: the bus is driven onto a jungar, a motorised ferry, and carried across the wide, shimmering expanse of the Sharavathi River. Forested hills rise on three sides; the water stretches out like a quiet sea. On the far bank, the road winds through the Sharavathi Valley Wildlife Sanctuary — birdsong, wild blooms, evergreen canopy.
By the time the bus reaches Sagara around 10 a.m., after four-plus hours of mountain roads, temple stops and river crossings, something has shifted. The journey has already begun to do what pilgrimages do.
What you find when you arrive
Varadahalli greets you with clean air, birdsong and a stillness that feels intentional. The climb to Sridhara Ashram — set in the emerald folds of the Ghats — begins at the village itself and continues up hundreds of steps to the Samadhi Mandir at the hilltop.
At the ashram entrance, visitors are offered kashaya, a warm herbal drink. It's a small gesture that sets the tone: simple, grounding, unhurried.
Sri Sridhara Swamiji was born in 1908, renounced worldly life early, wandered across India visiting saints and sacred sites, and eventually settled in Varadahalli in the 1950s. He lived in mauna — silence — rarely speaking, yet drawing thousands through what those who met him described as a transforming presence. He attained mahasamadhi in 1973. The ashram that grew around his practice is deliberately modest: no large organisation, no loud doctrine, just the accumulated quiet of decades of tapas.
The perennial spring on the forested hilltop is perhaps the ashram's most talked-about feature. Said to have been discovered by Swamiji himself, it has reportedly never run dry — not even in drought years. Pilgrims drink from it and carry it home; the water is considered tirtha.
At the summit, the Samadhi Mandir is a simple shrine where people sit in meditation or whispered prayer. Time does feel different up there — less of a line, more of a pool.
The living traditions inside the ashram
Two things make Sridhara Ashram feel like more than a memorial site. The first is the Veda Patashala, where young students are trained in the oral tradition of chanting the Rig, Yajur and Sama Vedas. Hearing those chants echo across the hills — brahmacharis in traditional attire, acharyas guiding them with quiet dedication — is genuinely striking, particularly set against the forest backdrop.
The second is the Goshala, where cows are cared for in keeping with Swamiji's reverence for Gau Mata. Their milk goes into daily pujas and prasadam. It sounds like a small detail; in practice it gives the ashram a sense of completeness — a self-contained spiritual ecosystem rather than a tourist-facing attraction.
The ashram's daily rhythm follows the principles Swamiji embodied: mauna, dhyana, seva. Visitors are welcome to participate or simply sit.
Why this matters for a travel audience in India
Varadahalli isn't on most weekend-getaway lists, and that's precisely the point. For travellers drawn to experiences that are textured rather than packaged — where the route itself has meaning, where the destination rewards slowness — this is a genuinely rare find in the Karnataka interior.
The practical spine of the trip is useful to know: Kollur (Sri Mookambika Temple) and Varadahalli can be combined in one itinerary, connected by a single bus route that passes through a wildlife sanctuary and crosses a major river by ferry. Sagara is the nearest town with accommodation options. The ashram itself offers simple guest facilities for pilgrims.
For those who travel not just to see but to absorb — the Malnad region, the Sharavathi backwaters, the Ghats forest roads, and a hilltop ashram that has been quietly holding its ground since the 1950s — this is the kind of trip that stays with you in ways a resort weekend simply doesn't.