Anu Malhotra’s Shamans of the Himalayas immerses readers in rare shamanic traditions, documenting mystical rituals through vivid storytelling, empathy, and cultural preservation—bridging anthropology, travel writing, and spiritual exploration. A review by Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri.

Anu Malhotra’s Shamans of the Himalayas offers an immersive cultural exploration into Himalayan shamanism, blending vivid storytelling, rich photography, and anthropological insight. Discover how ancient ritual, nature‑based wisdom, and spiritual healing thrive in Himachal Pradesh, challenging modern perceptions and preserving vanishing indigenous traditions.

Anu Malhotra’s Shamans of the Himalayas is a remarkable work of cultural exploration, a rare document of a mystical and vanishing world. Both a book and an accompaniment to her acclaimed documentary film series, it is a deeply immersive study that bridges anthropology, ethnography, travel writing, and spiritual inquiry. Set in the remote reaches of Himachal Pradesh, the book traces Malhotra’s years-long engagement with shamanic traditions in the region, unveiling a world where the boundaries between the material and the metaphysical are fluid, porous, and intimately entwined.

At a time when globalized modernity increasingly homogenizes cultures and distances urban readers from the sacred rhythms of nature and indigenous wisdom, Malhotra’s work serves both as documentation and preservation. She does not merely record shamanic practices as an outsider peering in; rather, she embeds herself in the world she documents—through long periods of fieldwork, interaction with practitioners, and above all, deep respect and empathy for the lives and worldviews she portrays.

Context and Significance

Malhotra is best known as a documentary filmmaker, and Shamans of the Himalayas is a logical extension of her award‑winning visual ethnographies. The book distils over a decade of exploration into the remote Himalayan interiors, where she lived with and learned from shamans (locally called gur) and spirit mediums. Her background in visual storytelling is evident in the vividness of the narrative—its pages are lush with photographic inserts, detailed ritual accounts, and a keen eye for both the mystical and the mundane.

The context of her exploration is significant. Shamanic traditions in India, especially in the North‑Indian Himalayan belt, have long existed in the shadows of mainstream Hinduism. While India is known for its polytheistic traditions and complex religious landscape, the animistic and trance‑based spiritual systems of indigenous groups have received far less attention than temple‑based Brahmanical practices.

Malhotra seeks to correct this imbalance—not by exoticizing these practices, but by approaching them with sincerity and openness. Her work is part ethnographic field study, part spiritual journey, and part cultural preservation. This tripartite nature is what makes Shamans of the Himalayas unique. It is not merely an intellectual exercise but a soulful experience for both writer and reader.

One of the most striking themes of the book is the intricate relationship between the natural landscape and spiritual cosmology. In the worldview of Himalayan shamans, the mountains are not just geographical entities but living, sentient beings. Forests, rivers, rocks, and trees are imbued with sacredness, and the shaman acts as a mediator between the human and non‑human realms. This worldview sharply contrasts with modern notions of nature as a resource to be exploited. Here, nature is divine, and its moods and mysteries are interpreted through rituals, dreams, and visions.

Malhotra documents a range of shamanic practices—from spirit possession and healing ceremonies to trance‑induced dances and oracular consultations. The rituals, often conducted in sacred groves or village altars, blend Hindu deities with local spirits, resulting in a syncretic spiritual ecology. The shaman (gur) enters a trance state, often induced by rhythmic drumming, chants, and invocations, and in this altered state becomes a vessel for the deity.

In this role, the shaman offers counsel, heals physical and psychological ailments, and maintains the community’s spiritual balance. A powerful insight the book offers is the shaman’s function not just as a spiritual guide but as a repository of collective memory and community healing. In remote villages where access to modern medicine and psychiatry is limited or non‑existent, the shaman’s role becomes indispensable. Their knowledge is empirical as much as mystical—rooted in generations of observation, intuition, herbalism, and intergenerational transmission.

The book also delves into the complex dynamics of belief and scepticism. Malhotra does not attempt to “prove” the efficacy of shamanism through the lens of modern science. Rather, she invites the reader to witness, to listen, and to suspend disbelief. Her prose resists both cynicism and blind faith. Instead, she inhabits a liminal space—respectful, questioning, and always attentive.

Style and Narrative 

Malhotra writes with grace and clarity. Her background as a visual storyteller emerges in evocative descriptions—whether the biting cold of a Himalayan dawn, the scent of burning juniper in a sacred ritual, or the electrifying moment a shaman begins to convulse in trance. The images in the book—many taken by the author herself—complement the text beautifully. They do not merely illustrate but extend the narrative, offering glimpses into a world that is at once remote and palpably alive.

The structure is episodic, reflecting the nature of fieldwork and spiritual encounters. There are no rigid academic chapters but rather a flowing sequence of vignettes—each centred around a ritual, a place, or a particular shaman. This approach works well, allowing readers to engage with the material in a more experiential, less linear way. At the same time, Malhotra avoids the common pitfalls of both romanticization and anthropological detachment. She is present in the narrative not as a dominating voice but as a participant‑observer. Her humility is evident. She does not claim to “understand” everything, nor does she attempt to interpret everything for the reader. Instead, she foregrounds the voices of the practitioners themselves—elderly shamans, village women, and local priests. Their words, often quoted verbatim, lend authenticity and depth.

Challenges and Limitations

Despite its many strengths, the book does leave certain questions open. Malhotra consciously eschews a more academic framework, making the work accessible but also limiting its engagement with broader anthropological discourse. One might wish for more historical context or discussion on how these practices interact with state institutions, modern healthcare, or environmental degradation. How are these shamanic traditions impacted by tourism, education, or urban migration? Similarly, the book does not explore gender dynamics within shamanic traditions. While we meet several male shamans and some women who consult them, we hear little about women as spiritual leaders or healers, barring a couple. Are there female shamans in Himachal Pradesh? If so, how are their roles received by the community? These are important questions, especially as indigenous and feminist scholarship increasingly intersect.

Moreover, while the book engages with the idea of a vanishing world, it stops short of discussing how these traditions might be preserved or adapted in a rapidly changing socio‑economic landscape. What are the possibilities of integrating traditional healing into community health frameworks? Are there efforts in intergenerational knowledge transmission? These complex but urgent questions could have enriched the narrative further.

The Personal and the Political

At its core, Shamans of the Himalayas is as much about personal transformation as it is about cultural documentation. Malhotra’s own journey—though never overtly foregrounded—runs as a subtle thread through the book. Her growing respect, moments of awe, discomfort, and doubt give the narrative a human centre, making the book not just informative but affective. There is also a political subtext. In documenting these traditions, Malhotra challenges the dominant narrative of India as only temple‑centric, Sanskritized, and Vedic in its religiosity. The world of the gur, the deota, the ancestral spirit, and the enchanted forest offers a very different picture—one that is earth‑bound, localized, and deeply ecological.

Anu Malhotra’s Shamans of the Himalayas is an important, necessary book. It succeeds not only in documenting an endangered cultural tradition but in bringing its living essence to a broader audience. In a time of ecological crises, spiritual dislocation, and cultural erasure, the book reminds us of alternate ways of knowing and being. It challenges us to think beyond binaries of science and superstition, modernity and tradition, self and other. It is a book that rewards slow reading, inviting reflection rather than quick conclusions. In doing so, it offers more than just information—it offers an experience. And in that, it stays true to the world it portrays: a world where meaning is not explained but felt, where healing is invoked, and where the mountains are not just backdrops but deities in their own right.

For anyone interested in spirituality, anthropology, Indian culture, or storytelling’s power, Shamans of the Himalayas is an indispensable read. It opens a window not just into the Himalayas, but into deeper questions of belief, belonging, and the mysteries that still flicker in the world’s farthest corners.