AS THE song Hoshiyar rehna re nagar mein chor aavega (stay alert or a thief could enter the city) drifts through the Panchagiri Hills outside Bengaluru, Karthik K explains why Kabir’s doha always grounds him. “The city is a metaphor for the human body and mind, and the ‘thief’ represents all that robs a person of awareness — ego, desire, anger, greed, illusion, pride, distraction, even time and death itself,” says the 22-year-old tech professional, swaying gently before returning to stillness. For Karthik, Kabir’s centuries-old verse holds a mirror to his own restlessness.

Seated around him are content creators and influencers, a young farmer, students, an IIM graduate, foreign students on a gap-year tour of India, retirees and solo women travellers. Together, they form the evening satsang at the Art of Living (AOL) ashram, spread across 80 acres off Kanakapura Road. It slips out unrecognised from Google maps and opens on to a forested community of its founder Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, who has advocated holistic living for 45 years, much before wellness became a concept. And at a time when public life is increasingly messed up by noise, stress, conflict and ideological rigidity, this retreat offers a pause button to refocus, reset and keep the bounce.

Founded in 1981, the movement anticipated a modern crisis before anybody talked about burnout, mindfulness and wellness. Its appeal lies not in sermonising but in presenting spirituality as a lived experience — part survival toolkit, part self-development practice. At the centre of this is Sudarshan Kriya (su meaning good, darshan meaning vision): a guided breathing practice that combines rhythmic breathwork with meditation. And it is accessible to believers and non-believers alike.

“In short, it is about taking a good look at yourself. When people are calmer and more self-aware, they become less reactive and more capable of dialogue,” says Veena P, an electrical engineer, who left a high-pressure life in the US to become an Art of Living teacher. “Material saturation makes you empty, you are still seeking purpose,” she reasons. It isn’t just about teaching meditation; the foundation runs regular schools with mainstream courses. “Our foundational discipline is of helping children align with nature, be conscionable and build an inclusive community,” adds Veena. While city schools are not free, around 1,350 of them in remote areas are.

Education is also the basis of The Art of Living’s carefully cultivated identity as apolitical and non-sectarian. While rooted in Indian spiritual traditions, it does not insist on religious conformity or ideological allegiance, choosing instead the softer vocabulary of human values, inner equilibrium and collective well-being. “In times of perpetual outrage and hyper-connectivity, this is a space without dogma and allows me to breathe in a community without confrontation, engage in dialogue,” says Sheila Desai, 55, who volunteers six months a year.

At the amphitheatre, Sri Sri, seated under strobe lights beaded with droplets from a late afternoon rain, encourages young people to ask questions. “I am constantly chasing goals and I keep changing them. What to do?” asks a college student. “You have an obsession not passion. Passion is like breathing in fresh air but you also need dispassion, which is like breathing out, letting go. But don’t doubt your goals, that’s what leads to worry,” he says. A young man wonders if he should marry or not, a college student wonders if she should comply with her opinionated family. Sri Sri, who turns 70 on May 13, gives practical advice: “Don’t be a football of other people’s opinions.”

One of the most popular practices taught at the ashram is intuitive meditation. “It calms the nervous system and prepares the mind to settle naturally,” says Beena Manoj, an intuitive processing teacher. “You don’t force thoughts away. You simply allow the mind to clear, like muddy water settling in a glass. You have mental clarity, illusion dissolves and you have pure intelligence.”

Research on intuitive meditation has suggested benefits, including improved attention span, emotional regulation and lower stress markers, particularly among younger practitioners. “Consistent meditation acts like a muscle builder for the brain, reducing the size and activity of the amygdala (stress centre) and increasing the capacity of the prefrontal cortex (logical thinking, emotional control),” adds Manoj. Little wonder then that high achievers like cricketer Dinesh Karthik, boxer Lovlina Borgohain and table tennis champion Manika Batra are practitioners. After a difficult phase post the 2024 Olympics, Borgohain says how “redisciplining her mind helped her become a sports coach for children.” For Batra, it has helped develop “positive attitude and calmness in a split second.”

Inside the campus, Nitya Patel, 17, from Bengaluru says she once hid behind her mother’s pallu. “I now have confidence to speak to you, am not gender conscious and have a clarity of purpose,” says the international relations student at St Joseph’s University, Bengaluru, where Sri Sri himself graduated with physics at age 17. She believes she can be a skilled negotiator in conflict resolution. Bhawani Dinesh, also 17, can see objects blindfolded, allowing her intuition to fill in visual information.

Aprameya Nair, 18, from Kochi has beaten exam stress, bettered his math scores and ranked 91 in the admission exam at the National Law School of India University. “It’s an easy process, just a 20-minute session every day. It’s not all breathwork but a fun, interactive format like solving puzzles and mind games,” says the teen who chose law as his career so that he can ensure social equity and justice. All three can self-regulate their screen time. “I know when to stop scrolling, how to filter toxic content,” says Nair who loves horse riding as does Dinesh.

From science to spirituality, students are exposed to an arc of real world experiences. Sri Sri, who could recite the Gita by age four, always had a scientific temperament. This he partly inherited from his father, RS Venkat Ratnam, a mechanical engineer and Vedic scholar who dreamt of making India’s first indigenous car. As Sri Sri travelled with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in his early years, he approached spirituality not as abstract belief, but as a practical system grounded in observable, cause-and-effect outcomes.

“Most mistakes are not born out of malice… every so-called culprit is a victim of ignorance, stress, or lack of awareness. Most crimes in the world are a result of people becoming victims of their own emotions,” he says.
This willingness to understand the circumstances of those whom the world tends to hate-shame is the reason that Sri Sri is called upon as a global negotiator. Having been part of peace initiatives in Iraq, Sri Lanka, Venezuela and Myanmar, he has worked on Ayodhya dispute resolution, rehabilitated former militants and prisoners through trauma-relief programmes, and held campaigns against drug addiction in Kashmir.

One of the boys from Srinagar, Aariz (name changed), 22, says the skill training at the ashram has helped him understand tourism models. “We learnt how homestays and experiential tourism are high value, low-cost and can work for us,” he says. In today’s hurried world, many from across the culture barrier have found anchorage. One of them is Delhi documentary filmmaker Arshia Raza. “What we get in these sessions are positive feelings of self-worth. The cloud of misperception dissipates,” she says.

Meanwhile, in faraway Guntur, 26-year-old Kamalkant, a child of Naxal parents who grew up in the ashram, has picked up conversational English. “I can face any complexity in my life, I have that capacity. But I won’t choose wrongs,” says the newly-turned father who is working as a company supervisor.

The Art of Living has democratised spirituality by promoting the “celebration” of life rather than seeking detachment or renunciation. Wellness has now been formally integrated into the health ministry through Ayushman Bharat Health and Wellness Centres. And in boardrooms and schools, yoga hours are supercharging consciousness.
To admirers, the ashram offers emotional and social healing. To critics, it represents the depoliticised packaging of spirituality for the urban middle class. But to a visitor, it is about a pause to find Kabir’s “thief” within.