 "ANANDA: An Exploration of Cannabis in India")
ANANDA: An Exploration of Cannabis in India
Author: Karan Madhok
Publisher: Aleph Book Company
Pages: 416
Price: ₹999
The story of ganja is the story of humanity. It’s a story of survival, rebellion, and reinvention. The cannabis plant has seen it all: Crossed mountains and empires, persisted across millenia, flourished in uncharted and unfamiliar terrains, both geographical and cultural. In Ananda, Karan Madhok captures this journey in all its layered glory. It’s part pilgrimage, part inquiry, and part celebration — a history, a science, a lawbook, and a love letter all rolled into one.
Starting in the Himalayan hush of Himachal, winding through the coastal dreams of Kerala, Ananda floats from region to region. Each stop brings a new strain, a new state of mind, and, yes, a new high — both literal and metaphorical. Like the plant it follows, the book’s journey is layered, tangled, and wonderfully complex.
Take, for instance, the most commonly used Indian argument for the legalisation of cannabis: The harking back to our ancient culture — to temples, myths, and centuries-old habits. One only needs to visit the ghats of Varanasi to find hordes of sages smoking day in and out, chillams passed from one hand to the next, with government-approved bhang shops scattered through the city. But reverence often mingles with misinformation. It’s a country as packed with humans as with superstitions and untested treatments, particularly under the guise of systems such as Ayurveda and Homoeopathy.
When cannabis acquires the mask of religion, things get murky. The plant is cast as a cure-all, from cancer to AIDS, with benefits inflated beyond reason. Healthy scepticism is of utmost importance here, and Mr Madhok, while acknowledging the importance of ancient wisdom, refuses to mistake it for evidence. Reverence doesn’t replace rigour. Celebrating cultural roots mustn’t come at the expense of ignoring the weeds of credulity.
The journey spins further out into other avenues, including the Bollywood industry and Hindu mythology. There’s the obvious mention of the movie Hare Rama Hare Krishna, an anti-drug morality tale, but with the legendary Dum Maro Dum track, “the best-possible auditory substitute for a blissful marijuana high, a little disco, a little rock, and a lot of soul.”
There is also the story of the Samudra Manthan, “a story worthy of the greatest superhero cinematic universe,” where amrit, the great elixir of immortality, and halahala, a lethal poison, are produced from the same oceanic churn. Unsure what to do with the halahala, which had the power to destroy the cosmos, the gods turn to Lord Shiva, who unflinchingly consumes it whole. What else would come to the rescue of the god’s burning throat but a soothing concoction called bhang, made from cannabis?
The book’s journey is a bit like that of the plant: Sometimes sacred, sometimes profane, always psychedelic.
Few plants offer as much, and ask for as little, as cannabis. Medicinally, it’s a pharmacy unto itself: Relieving pain, reducing inflammation, stimulating appetite, soothing nausea, calming anxiety, lifting depression, quieting seizures, and inviting sleep. Commercially, it has a staggering versatility: Turning into rope, textiles, paper, building blocks, biodegradable plastics, and fuel. Nutritionally, hemp seeds are tiny powerhouses rich in proteins and essential fatty acids, while hemp oil acts as a potent dietary supplement. In cosmetics, it is incorporated into serums, topicals, conditioners, and skin elixirs, all of which are infused with the restorative compounds of the plant. Ecologically, few species match its environmental utility. Cannabis absorbs carbon dioxide at double the rate of most trees, and cleans soils of toxins and heavy metals. Then, of course, there are the recreational delights: consumed in everything from brownies to vape clouds, oils to joints. Through Ananda, Mr Madhok pays tribute to this polymath plant, detailing its every brand and bloom like a botanist drunk on reverence.
You’d think a book so rooted in science, law, and history would feel dry and heavy. But Mr Madhok writes with the lightness of a high. One moment he’s joking, the next he’s spinning metaphors, then suddenly dropping sarcasm like ash from a chillum. The writing is personal, playful, almost mischievous. Consequently, you get a reading experience mirroring the book’s title: Ananda—pure joy. And so, smoking Malana Cream is like “a rocket ship buzzing into the brain, a feeling of elevation, Superman meeting Shiva to lazily amble across the great Himalayan peaks” while habitual cannabis users experience “a whole Mahabharata in the mind, a brief history of humanity and civilization, every damn night.”
Through Ananda, Mr Madhok builds a powerful case for understanding cannabis, as well as for rethinking our moral frameworks — region by region, strain by strain, layer by layer. It’s a mirror held up to a country that has forgotten its roots. Why is a plant so deeply embedded in our rituals, our medicines, our landscapes still viewed with suspicion and fear? Why are farmers punished for cultivating what the land offers so freely? Why are fields set aflame in the name of law? Why, Mr Madhok asks, must India import a plant that grows wild across its hills and forests?
The plant may not be a miracle cure, but it is certainly a symbol. Of policy outpacing reason. Of modernity denying its past. Of common sense lost to bureaucracy. When we can tolerate alcohol-fuelled violence and tobacco-linked disease, if we can scroll ourselves into dopamine comas, then surely we can handle a plant that has healed, soothed, and grown beside us for millennia?
The story of ganja is the story of humanity. To capture one is to capture the other.
The reviewer is a journalist, writer, and editor fascinated by the stories that shape our world. Instagram/X: aroomofwords
