I am grateful to Andrew Popov, who once asked an old Indian antiquarian and seller of ancient sabers if he knew how to use them

Across North, Central, and Eastern India, there are several weapon-handling practices that are quite similar. Unfortunately, they also share a pronounced ceremonial nature, as holidays and festivals provide the primary venue and motivation for their demonstration. Perhaps the fate of Indian martial arts would have been different if their main application had been in tournaments and championships.

Given this context, one can understand my surprise and subsequent delight upon discovering practices that possess real practical value. These include conscious, deliberate movements, proper application of force, and, most importantly, are accompanied by at least a minimal explanatory theoretical basis.

It should be noted immediately that the European concepts of “school,” “style,” and “martial arts” do not apply here. The Indians themselves, naturally, trace these exercises back to the time of the Mahabharata and believe they have existed in this form ever since.

Manmal Panchal was born in 1946 into a clan of blacksmiths and armorers known as the “sekligarh”. His father, grandfather, and subsequent ancestors served as armorers at the court of the Maharaja of Bundi. Until recently, Manmal himself continued to receive formal remuneration corresponding to this hereditary status. In modern life, Manmal, like his father before him, deals in antiques, specializing in Rajput paintings and weapons. He also works with his sons in the family workshop, sharpening sickles for peasants and scissors for townspeople.

Most importantly, Manmal, like his father and grandfather, is the guru and mentor of an Akhara in Bundi, now called “Ganeshvayamshalla”. “Ganesh” is universally known; “vayam” means exercises; and “shalla” is the place for training, the school. This Akhara has preserved certain practices to the present day. Manmal considers these practices typical of Rajasthan as a whole, albeit with some local variations. When asked whether the distinctive features of his performance are unique to this Akhara or his personal style, he replies that he was taught this way by his father, who learned from his own father and that is how it has always been. What circumstances preceded it?

In the early 18th century, a small group of ascetic sadhus arrived in Bundi and established an Akhara on the shores of a lake. This jamaat numbered no more than ten to twenty men. In addition to their rigorous spiritual practices, they dedicated themselves to the martial arts, training daily in combat and weapon-handling.

Among the Akhara’s early gurus was a man of extraordinary skill, a master of both the spiritual and martial paths. Around the latter half of the century, he attained samadhi, passing into the enlightened state. His physical form, preserved as a testament to his attainment, was enshrined within a Shiva temple on the Akhara’s grounds.

From that time to this, the site has drawn not only practitioners of these ancient arts but also spiritual seekers those drawn by the powerful silence and enduring legacy of its founding master.

Manmal’s grandfather lived during the time of the last “lake” sadhus. It is uncertain whether any direct lineage or continuity of community with the original sadhus was preserved, particularly concerning their martial practices. However, it is known that both the grandfather and his sons, including Manmal’s father, practiced fighting and weapon-handling skills.

One of these sons became a renowned wrestler in the region. According to family legend, a famous Iranian wrestler once visited him, ostensibly for a friendly exchange of techniques. During the ensuing duel, the tide turned against Manmal’s uncle after he suffered a bitten ear. Seeing the son begin to lose, his father intervened decisively. He aimed his gun at the son and declared he would shoot him if he lost the bout. Facing this high-stakes ultimatum, Manmal’s uncle fought back and secured the victory.

At the age of 12, Manmal began the study of traditional fighting and weapon-handling practices under his father. During the 1960s, there was immense interest in this field, and the akhara thrived as a vibrant center of activity. However, as interest waned among the younger generation and as Manmal himself grew older, the situation changed dramatically.

Today, there is a slight resurgence in interest, but it is focused primarily on the colorful, demonstrative side of the practices, the very aspect that is so dear to the Indian heart. Nevertheless, these disciplines retain a profound inner substance and genuine military tactical sense. Whether this depth is preserved thanks to the influence of the holy sadhus, the innate talents of Manmal himself, or an unbroken lineage of warrior-ascetic training, the practices remain much more than mere spectacle.