Nandini Mutt’s Elephant Madhuri To Finally Return From Vantara, But at What Cost?

Ratnabai Kurade, a local of Nandini Mutt, sits outside her home, arms folded in quiet yearning for Madhuri, their beloved elephant. The weight of loss hangs heavy in her gaze, a silent testament to the deep bond between community and creature. Kurade says, “Her trunk blessed every child’s head in the village, and when she grew restless, none of us could eat or sleep. That was our Madhuri—cherished beyond words. Even now, I could cry thinking of the pain she must be in, torn from the only home she’s ever known. All of Ambani’s efforts have meant nothing. Madhuri cannot be taken away from us. She will return, and when she does, we’ll receive her with the grand welcome she deserves.”

Affectionately known as Madhavi, Shree Digambar Jain Atishay was home to her since 1992. Now, her absence hangs heavy, where she once marked the beginning of every ritual and celebration. Along the road to Nandini Mutt, posters and slogans signed by villagers stand as resolute testimony to their solidarity with Madhuri. At every turn, on every path, her name echoed—reminding the community of what had been lost. Elephants have held cultural and spiritual significance in Nandini Mutt and its Jain communities as far back since the Rashtrakuta era, when even during Acharya Jinsen’s time, their image was stamped onto currency. That historic weight still lingers.

A heap of unripe bananas still sits untouched in Madhuri’s shed. The first fruits from the trees were always hers—a gentle giant whose presence shaped the cultural and spiritual landscape of Nandini Mutt. Kiran Bhagate, the shelter’s manager, states, “We feel her absence every single day when we see her shed empty. Her favourite bananas await her but more so, every single person in the Mutt. Well over ten thousand people were present in the protests, contrary to what the media has reported. I’m proud of our people who didn’t let exploitative Ambanis and their organisation Vantara win.”

The community’s sorrow over 36-year-old Madhuri’s forced transfer to Vantara captures this emotional inheritance. On July 30th, people poured into Kolhapur’s streets, hearts heavy, to witness her departure. The crowd’s grief clashed with the court’s directive, which came after PETA flagged concerns about Madhuri’s physical and psychological condition—as part of its sustained push for her rehabilitation. The locals loathe and fiercely resist PETA for its continued attempts to control wildlife. “Organisations like PETA and Vantara have long had an eye on our Madhuri,” said Adhinath Ulagadde, a local. “Not just Madhuri, but Gajalakshmi from Tasgaon, Padma from Shedbal and many others. Their greed shouldn’t uproot our elephants from their homes.”

Last week, Madhuri was moved to the Radhe Krishna Temple Elephant Welfare Trust in Vantara. When the Bombay High Court ruling, later upheld by the Supreme Court, ordered her transfer, Kolhapur erupted. On 3rd August, villagers led a 40-kilometre procession in defiance. Petitions poured in, amplifying the resistance. Political pressure intensified, compelling the Chief Minister to agree to a meeting with stakeholders on 5th August. Vantara issued a carefully worded statement on the same day after Devendra Fandavis’ intervention, asserting its respect for Madhuri’s legacy and the spiritual sentiments attached to her. The storm it stirred hasn’t settled despite Vantara’s remedial measures. Their attempt to help Madhuri in Nandini Mutt by building rehabilitation facilities sounds promising, though the villages remain steeped in anger. The offer, however well-meaning on paper, meets a wall of mistrust. For locals, it feels less like care and more like quiet erasure.

With more processions planned in Delhi, rising allegations against Vantara for hoarding rare species and villagers still awaiting a glimpse of Madhuri, the saga cuts deeper than one elephant’s fate. Rehabilitation must rest on transparent, state-led grounds that protect animals from cruelty without turning them into trophies of either tradition or capital. One thing was clear: from Swami Bhattaraka, who bade her farewell at the temple, to locals who brought ghee and vegetables from their homes when Madhuri fell ill—her family grieves deeply. Their bond is not mere attachment but a fierce care for her well-being, even if that means she cannot remain at Nandini Mutt for now.

This is collective sorrow anchored in love and responsibility, not just sentiment. The villagers’ love for Madhuri feels real, rooted in care rather than performance. In contrast, Ambani’s sudden surrender reads like damage control. Protests in Kolhapur and Nandini Mutt triggered visible backlash, from product boycotts to posters of Anant Ambani garlanded with shoes. Bhagate, responding to Madhuri’s return, struck a measured tone: “Be it Vantara or any organisation, we would want our Madhuri to be well taken care of. We don’t need their assistance to begin with, but a helping hand would be appreciated. After all, our Madhuri matters the most.” Madhuri’s return sits uneasily in a larger, unresolved picture. It urges us to watch Vantara more closely, to question where power flows in the country and if the citizen still stands a chance at resisting it. This time, it seems, they really did.