'The Moving of Mountains': Story of Agastya’s dream school, told like a train ride

There’s always something powerful about a book that doesn’t raise its voice to make a point. Adhirath Sethi’s 'The Moving of Mountains' does exactly that. It doesn’t declare itself as a grand manifesto or attempt to eulogise a movement. Instead, it moves gently, like rural wind across Kuppam’s landscapes, telling the inspiring story of the making of The Agastya International Foundation - a story as grounded as the earth it comes from.

Before one turns the initial pages, one question strikes - Why read a book on how a foundation was revolutionised? The answer is right in the beginning - the book stands out as a slow, immersive walk through the evolution of the education company. The tone is neither self-congratulatory nor does it voice grandiose, it simply flows like a memory - sometimes like a conversation you overhear on a long train ride overlooking a slew of trees and grazing cattle, amidst a rural landscape.

The book hands the reader a near-cinematic tour of the campus. There’s texture: the visual of a cricketer mid-swing, a bowler mid-action-not frozen in a single frame, but through a mural-like sequence. One can almost see the gate, feel the weather, sense the layout of the campus as if one were walking through it. 

Before I realised, the book shifted, slowly pulling back the curtain on the people behind the place. In black pages that stand out sharply against the white, the chapters begin to dissolve into the minds that imagined the foundation with grounded, reflective anecdotes that show how vision turned into structure, and ideas into buildings.

What unfolds next is a quiet documentation of the hard beginnings, the false starts, the hesitant teachers who later turned into core supporters, the small conversations that led to big commitments. "...this allegedly disinterested group turned their own beliefs about what constituted an invigorating classroom session on its head," a line in the book reads.  

Seemingly a complex read, the book slowly and steadily voices that the ideation was not just about building a school - it was about nurturing a mindset. The term - "Agastya’s dream school" -  appears, and with it comes the weight of what that dream really entailed.

'The Moving of Mountains' is honest about how difficult the journey was. The details about forgotten mining town, land tangled in local opposition, even smugglers are not dramatised but offered as part of the reality. What stands out is how the foundation relied not on vast sums of money, but on tenacity, clarity, and a sheer commitment to make it work. 

Scattered across the pages are moments that make you stop and underline: “...the period of constructive laziness became one of the most intellectually fertile periods of my life.” These are quotes, or you can say, quiet affirmations that building something worthwhile doesn’t always follow a set path.

As the chapters roll on, the scope of involvement becomes clear - from the Defence Research and Development Organization (DRDO) to the Indian Institute of Science (IISc), from National Centre for Biological Sciences (NCBS) to the JN Tata Auditorium and even the Homi Bhabha Centre for Science Education (HBCSE). The partnerships weren’t accidental - they were earned. “The Big Bull” chapter, for instance, traces how influence was used not for power, but for purpose - to set up a computer lab, to secure funding, to build what seemed impossible.

But for all its institutional muscle, the soul of the book, and the foundation, is deeply human. A group of unproven, passionate individuals setting out into rural India, willing to experiment, to fail, to learn. That spirit lingers.

What stayed with me long after the last page was turned was the sharp reminder of where Indian education stands today. It’s not just lagging, it is constrained by urgent gaps in healthcare, nutrition, and basic access. The book does not preach; it provokes and quietly asks: if Agastya could rise from a forgotten town, why can't more such dreams take root elsewhere?

'The Moving of Mountains' is not a loud book. But it is a necessary one, and perhaps, in today’s landscape of noise, that’s what makes it unforgettable.