Fresh off his Silence In Sound tour across India, Radhika Das stands at a beautiful crossroads in his journey—returning to the land where the mantras he carries were born. London-based and loved across continents, he has spent over a decade guiding seekers toward mindful, heart-centered living through kirtan, storytelling, and mantra meditation. Yet this tour has felt different, almost like a spiritual homecoming. With millions engaging with his music and gatherings that blur the line between audience and community, Radhika continues to offer ancient wisdom in a way that feels intimate, accessible, and deeply relevant for modern spiritual explorers.
You have come here with your Silence In Sound tour. What made this tour feel different or more personal than your past global events?
India is the sacred land where these mantras were born. To bring Silence In Sound here feels less like a tour and more like a homecoming. Every mantra, every raga, every syllable, carries the dust of saints who have walked this land chanting the very same names. For me, it wasn’t just another event... it was an offering back to the roots.
You’ve held massive kirtan gatherings across the West — how does it feel to now return to the spiritual roots of India with your practice?
It feels like bringing a river back to its source. In the West, people come with open hearts and curiosity; in India, there’s already a deep cultural memory of these sounds. To return here is to place the practice back into the soil it sprouted from, and to invite everyone, whether seasoned chanters or new seekers, to join the song.
The title Silence In Sound is both poetic and paradoxical. What does that phrase mean to you?
In kirtan, the sound is not noise. It’s a doorway. When we chant with full heart, the mind becomes still, and in the midst of melody, an inner silence blossoms. That’s Silence In Sound: a sanctuary of peace discovered through the very act of singing.
Mantra music has exploded globally, yet your approach feels deeply intimate and rooted. How do you balance tradition with modern spiritual seekers’ needs?
The essence never changes: the mantras, the bhakti, the mood of offering. What I adapt is the container: the stories I share, the arrangements, the way I invite people in. For modern seekers, it’s important to make it accessible without diluting its depth. The heart of kirtan is timeless.
You often speak of collective experiences. What role does community play in your kirtan gatherings — and how does that differ across cultures?
Kirtan is not a performance; it’s a conversation between souls. The power is multiplied when voices blend. Across cultures, the expression may differ; in the West, people might sway shyly before opening up; in India, they may already be singing at full volume from the first refrain. But the essence is the same: unity through sound.
With over 50 million streams, your music clearly resonates deeply. What do you think people are really seeking when they turn to mantra meditation?
I believe they’re seeking connection. Connection to self, to others, to the Divine. The world is noisy in a way that leaves us feeling empty. Mantra fills that space with meaning, reminding us that we are loved, guided, and part of something eternal.
You’ve built a bridge between ancient Sanskrit mantras and contemporary wellness culture. Was that intentional — or a natural unfolding of your journey?
It was never a marketing plan; it was a natural unfolding. I simply followed my heart in sharing the mantras that transformed my own life. As the wellness movement grew, people found resonance in these sacred sounds, and the bridge built itself.
India is experiencing a renaissance in wellness and spirituality. What do you hope younger Indian audiences take away from your upcoming tour?
I hope they rediscover the beauty of what is already theirs. Sometimes, we have to see our own treasures through fresh eyes. My wish is for young people to feel proud of their spiritual heritage and to carry it forward in a way that’s alive and personal.
Your practice combines singing, storytelling, and silence. How do you craft these immersive journeys — is it more choreography or flow?
It’s mostly flow. I may carry a few stories or melodies in my pocket, but the real magic happens in response to the room. I listen, not just with my ears, but with my heart, and allow the journey to unfold in service to the moment.
After two decades on this path, how has your own relationship with kirtan and bhakti yoga evolved — and what continues to surprise you?
In the beginning, kirtan was a practice I did. Now, it feels like something I am. Over the years, I’ve seen that the more I offer myself to the holy names, the more they reveal their depth. What surprises me still is how every chant feels new, as if the Divine is meeting me afresh each time.