The sacred conch connects sea and spirit, blending science, craftsmanship and faith in one resonant symbol of creation
By Anne Petry, India
My house is located near a hindu temple. Day and night, many different sounds echo from the sacred site, but there is one that cannot be ignored. As its resonance seeps through the walls and into my ears, it seems as though the world has been put on hold. The tone is deep and profound, almost overwhelming, and I am taken on a short journey into the unknown. This special sound is produced when someone blows into a conch seashell, also known as shankha.
One day, my foreigner’s curiosity took over. I wanted to know why conches are such an essential part of Hindu worship. What’s the significance, and where does the ritual come from? I enjoyed the similarity between the words conch and consciousness as I pondered the subject.
Nature’s Wonder
Basically, a conch is a marine animal—a large sea snail. In our case, we’re referring to the Turbinella and Strombus families. The shells are beautiful spiral structures averaging about five inches long, but in rare cases they can grow to the size of an American football. One of their most prominent features is their shiny surface, ranging from creamy white to pale pink. They may have spotting or marbling characteristic of an oceanic environment. The shells are protective dwellings for their inhabitants, but after being vacated, they usually sink to the seabed or drift up onto tropical and subtropical beaches around the globe.
What makes the conch so extraordinary is its hollow body with a typical outlet that creates a natural resonating chamber. Blowing through a hole carved at its pointed end produces a resonant note that carries great distances. This acoustic characteristic results from the shell’s gradually expanding spiral design. The spiral follows a logarithmic pattern—meaning it increases in a gradual, mathematically consistent way in keeping with the Fibonacci sequence, with the golden ratio defining its growth pattern.
In recent decades, awareness of marine conservation has grown along India’s coasts, especially in Tamil Nadu and Kerala, where most ritual conches are gathered. The sacred Turbinella pyrum—the species used in Hindu worship—is protected under India’s Wildlife (Protection) Act of 1972, which regulates the collection of live shells. The Gulf of Mannar Marine National Park off Tamil Nadu’s coast now serves as a key habitat where harvesting is closely monitored to preserve coral and mollusk populations. As a result, responsible collectors and manufacturers focus on gathering shells from conches that have died naturally. This sustainable practice helps maintain the species while allowing the ancient tradition of conch use to continue in harmony with the sea.
Men of the Sea
Conches come from the sea, so the first step of my journey was to travel to a place where they are collected. Initial research pointed to the temple city of Rameshwaram. A great opportunity to hit two mangoes with one stone, and finally get to visit this important pilgrimage site and bathe in the temple’s twenty-two wells! As I approached the city, I saw many fishing boats along the coast. “A good sign,” I thought to myself. “Some of them must be bringing back conches from the sea.” After settling into my hotel, I went to the harbor, hoping to see conches in the day’s catch in fishermen’s nets.
“Out of 800 boats, only one or two conches will be found,” said Fleming Jesuraja, the owner of one of the boats. Although he holds a bachelor’s degree in computer engineering, he’s back in the family business. “The main interest of fishermen nowadays is catching fish. Finding conches is not on our agenda. If it happens, we gladly sell them to a local manufacturer, but they’ve become quite rare due to changes in the new nets and limited fishing areas in this region.” Fleming’s proud father joined us, and I asked him where the conches are mainly found. He answered, “The shankhas are collected mostly 120 miles south of here, in the area of Thoothukudi. That area is fertile when it comes to seashells. Another key location is the sea near the state of Kerala on the western coast of India.”
My Quest Continues
Slightly disappointed, I walked the streets of Rameshwaram and visited the shops that sell conches to learn more about their origins. The entire area around the great temple was filled with small- and medium-size sellers offering a variety of seashells. Buyers gathered around a shop while the seller grabbed a conch, inhaled deeply, and blew into it so that everyone knew his merchandise was genuine. Some people tried it themselves but quickly learned that it’s not only about power but also about technique.
In the recent past, due to their high cost, conches were owned mainly by temples and wealthy individuals, while ordinary people might display only an image of one in their homes. Today, however, conches are affordable, and many pilgrims carry their own. They stop in front of holy places and, without notice, lift the conch and blow with full lung capacity—this is the sound I often hear from my home.
To learn more, I decided to visit the big sellers. I found myself in a vast store—the “Walmart” of seashells—with shells of every size, shape, color and species, crafted into bracelets, earrings, lamps, souvenirs and other decorative objects. Yet, likely due to the language barrier, I failed to discover where the shells come from. I consoled myself with the fact that at least I had blown a conch for the first time in my life!
So now what? What better way to drown my sorrows than in a sweet glass of chai at a local tea stall? As I sipped and pondered my next move, a rickshaw driver pulled up in front of me. I decided to try my luck and asked if he knew anything about the origin of conches in this town. “Mangadu,” he replied naturally. “What? Where is that?” I asked. He pointed toward the outskirts of the city. Shocked and skeptical, I hopped into his rickshaw and let him carry me to the nearby village of Mangadu.
“Kalam Sea Shell Mart,” read a small billboard at a roadside factory. I kindly asked the guard to let me in. What I discovered inside was something I never thought I’d see: a massive factory dedicated entirely to seashells and marine products, especially conches. I met two of the managers, sisters Jasmine and Rashida, daughters of the founder and managing director. “This is a family business established in 1979 by our father, Mr. S. Abdul Kalam—not the 11th president of India, though both were born in Rameshwaram and were neighbors,” Jasmine explained with a smile.
Their hospitality was impeccable as they explained everything about the trade. Jerssam Kalam, the founder’s grandson, representing the new generation of management, said, “We buy raw conches from fishermen all over India. The majority come from the regions of Keelakarai and Thoothukudi, as well as from the Gulf of Mannar and the state of Kerala.” Rashida added, “Only 10 to 20 conches a day come from Rameshwaram, and mostly by accident. In Thoothukudi, special equipment is used for deep diving—conches can be found as far as 330 feet underwater, so scuba divers specialize in retrieving them. They’re mostly collected from September through December.”
I asked whether the devastating tsunami of 2004 had affected the ecosystem. Jasmine replied, “The tsunami caused a loss of some species, but it also revealed new ones. Luckily, the varieties used in Hinduism are still with us.”
Later, when I asked Jerssam about sales, he shared, “The demand for conches is growing. India is the biggest market for seashells—90 percent of religious conches are sold here, with the rest going to Nepal, Singapore, Malaysia and Canada. Of all conches sold, about 70 percent are used for bangle making, with the remaining 30 percent divided between those used for their instrumental sound and those for abhishekam rituals.”
As you can imagine, a raw conch doesn’t come out of the ocean white and shiny—it’s covered in a brown film, and the inside is far from clean. The preparation is the work of skilled professionals. Rashida explained, “Conches meant for blowing are manually cut at the pointed tip to create a hole. Any residue inside is washed out with water. The brown outer layer must then be removed. One way is to soak it in a chemical liquid, but many customers won’t buy a chemically treated conch, so the layer is instead removed manually with a grinding brush. Further polishing brings out the shine. Hot water adds luster, and storage in direct sunlight increases brilliance. Once finished, the conches are sent to Kolkata for religious carving.”
Watching the men and women at work was fascinating. I was amazed by their attention to detail, though saddened to hear Jerssam say, “The younger generation isn’t very interested in learning this kind of work, so we must think about using machines in the future, especially as demand grows.”
Origins and Scripture
The Sanskrit word shankha, also written shankh or shankham, simply means “conch shell.” It is an ancient term found in the Rigveda and Atharvaveda, where it refers to both the natural shell and the trumpet made from it. While its exact linguistic root is uncertain, scholars agree that it is a genuine Sanskrit word of early Vedic origin. The Atharvaveda describes a shell amulet used for protection, and the Shukla Yajurveda mentions shells in purification rites. In later texts such as the Mahabharata and Puranas, the conch appears as a sacred emblem of purity, victory and the proclamation of dharma. The Skanda Purana and Shiva Purana further praise the conch for its purifying and auspicious qualities, and it is often depicted among the attributes of Vishnu, Lakshmi and occasionally Siva, representing spiritual resonance and the cosmic vibration of Aum.
Abhishekam
This well-known ritual is the pouring of a sequence of carefully prepared nectars onto a sacred murti and bathing it in them. This rite is almost like a symbolic language in which each offering carries specific meaning and energy. Water from a holy source, turmeric water, milk, curd, ghee and honey are just a few of these offerings.
When holding a conch with its pointed end facing away from you, you can see that its opening faces upward, either on the left or right side. When viewed from the wide end (apex), most conch shells in nature spiral in a counterclockwise direction; these are called left-turning, or vamavarta shankhas. Only a small minority are right-turning, the dakshinavarti shankhas, which are considered the most auspicious, representing positive energy and divine connection. They are held in the right hand. The same conch used for abhishekam cannot be used as an instrument since it does not have a hole cut at one end.
Once, while in Tamil Nadu, I had an encounter with a Hindu priest from the Arunachaleswarar Temple in Thiruvannamalai—Swami and Sivacharyar Senthil Kumar. “The significance of using a conch in abhishekam is the vibrating effect it has on the surroundings. It brings positive and auspicious energies,” he explained. And indeed, while attending a puja conducted by him, I could see the effect on people: there was a festive atmosphere, a sense of importance and an uplifted feeling. “What could be the reason for that?” I wondered. “The shankha is the ultimate vessel because it’s a natural object,” he said. “It is associated with purity since it comes from the ocean, which is considered immaculate and always able to maintain its cleanliness.” I asked if there were any other uses for the conch besides puja. “In addition to the common Hindu usage, it is also used on special occasions such as weddings and birthdays,” answered Swami Senthil Kumar, adding, “In some places in India, after the puja, the priest may sprinkle holy water from the conch onto the devotees.”
The Sacred Resonance
The practice of blowing the conch is perhaps its most familiar religious use and carries profound spiritual and cultural significance. This sacred instrument serves as a ritual trumpet, producing a deep, resonant sound that carries over long distances and is impossible to ignore. On both religious and spiritual levels, the sound symbolizes creation and marks the commencement of ceremonies. It is also a powerful call to attention, helping devotees center their minds as rituals progress.
In temple worship, for instance, the conch marks important moments, such as the opening of the sanctum doors, the beginning of arati (lamp offering), and the culmination of abhishekam ceremonies. Furthermore, its vibrational quality is said to pacify negative energies, cleansing the space and preparing the environment for divine presence. It thus becomes a symbolic invitation to the Deities—a representation of the awakening of the Divine. The sound emanating from a conch is considered one of the purest vibrations, believed to echo the cosmic sound Aum, the primordial vibration of creation itself.
Beyond its ritual function, in rural settings the far-reaching sound of the conch, much like the nadaswaram, creates a sense of communal connection, allowing even those unable to attend temple ceremonies to pause and receive a gentle reminder of the Divine—pulling them out of the endless rhythm of daily life and into the present moment for reflection. There is something undeniably special about this natural artifact, linking the listener to something profound and elemental that transcends ordinary experience.
At the Feet of the Guru
At times, we can find a conch placed at the feet of a guru. It is there not only for symbolism and for its role in purifying the space and invoking divine blessings, but as a call to spiritual awakening and the removal of ignorance. For example, Adi Shankaracharya of the Advaita Vedanta tradition is often depicted with a conch in his teachings and iconography. It is also considered a means of spreading divine knowledge.
To illustrate further, the tradition of Sri Raghavendra Swamy uses the conch shell in worship, holding it to dispel negative influences. The idea of “divine sound” aligns closely with the concept of the conch. The Indian saint Sri Ramana Maharshi often referred to the symbolism of sound in his teachings. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother also incorporated the conch as a symbolic instrument in their teachings. In fact, the Mother specifically used the conch’s sound during certain ceremonies at her ashram, believing it effectively summoned divine consciousness. In the United States, Swami Vivekananda introduced the conch during his travels, helping raise awareness of this sacred artifact.
Finally, it is customary in many households to keep a conch in a sacred space. Often this is for practical use, but sometimes its presence alone is enough. Another reason, I heard from Sourabh Ghosh in Kolkata, is that “the conch is associated with Kubera, God of Wealth, and we believe it brings abundance and prosperity. It is traditionally placed in a dignified location, on a red cloth or in a clay pot. It is also believed to transform negative energy into positive.”
Other Surprising Uses
Continuing my visit at Kalam Sea Shell Mart, I saw that during the polishing process of the conch, a lot of raw material such as shell powder and shell dust was produced. I was astonished that absolutely nothing went to waste—everything from a conch could be used. Let me share a few examples.
In some cases, when a temple is built, shell powder is placed under the base of the main statue, as it is believed to protect the site from insects and pests. Some people also place a conch or shell dust in the foundation of their house before construction begins. They may conduct a sacred fire ceremony (havan, a Hindu fire ritual). During this rite, they place a conch on top of the wood to ask forgiveness in advance for any harm caused to animals during the upcoming construction. And since a conch is nearly 100% calcium, the powder is also sold to the pharmaceutical and cosmetic industries and used in gardening products.
Finding a Seashell in Kolkata
Having heard about the conch-carving work taking place in Kolkata, I realized the story would not be complete without visiting the artisans themselves. I arrived in the bustling metropolitan city of 20 million and, after asking several locals, found my way to the main street where most of the seashell shops are located. Passing from one shop to another, I suddenly heard a grinding sound from the back of one—the unmistakable noise of craftsmanship in progress. Following it, I was delighted to find exactly what I had been hoping for: a conch carving and design workshop in action.
In small, cave-like spaces, artisans sat on the floor working intently. The place—as well as the carvers themselves—was covered in fine white shell dust from their work. A narrow corridor led to the back, revealing that the whole complex was actually the private home of one family. Three brothers lived there with their wives and children; they owned both the workshop and the storefront I had seen earlier. The eldest brother, Mr. Jewel Nandy, explained, “Our family business was established in 1961. We’re the fourth generation to take over, and we have 17 workers in total. We’re proud to be among the most renowned manufacturers in Kolkata. We buy the raw material nearby and do all the rest of the work ourselves.”
The artisans used both electric tools and delicate handwork, depending on the task. Highly skilled and creative, they worked with care and devotion, allowing me to sit close by—without my shoes, of course—and observe. Some of the carvers were also designers, responsible for the beautiful religious motifs often seen on carved conches. Their skill granted them a special status and an income of up to us$650 per month, significant in this region where field workers might earn around $100. Omkar Nandy, a younger brother and co-owner, is himself an artisan. It was heartening to see that the family not only managed the business but also knew the craft from the inside. “We’re very proud and privileged to do this type of work and provide Indians with these important religious items,” Omkar said.
At one point, I saw Mr. Omkar Nandy finish a piece. Before putting it away, he held it reverently, whispered a prayer, and only then placed it aside. This devotional gesture gave the work a deeper meaning. I asked what he was praying for. “I pray to my Goddess Maha Manasa Devi,” he said. “I pray for the item’s wholeness and that it will be sold in a proper way. We even have our own temple inside the house—please come and see.” Indeed, next to the living room they had established a medium-sized temple with all the traditional equipment. While Mr. Omkar proudly showed me the shrine, a puja ceremony was taking place, and it was wonderful to observe the priest blowing into a conch that had been carved in this very home.
Bangles in Bengal
While in West Bengal, I learned about a unique Hindu tradition common in this region: it is customary for married women to wear bangles made from conches. This explains why all the shops in Kolkata sell not only conches for puja and blowing but also for bangle making. Wearing conch bangles is not as mandatory now as it once was, yet many women continue the practice since the bangles are considered auspicious and are blessed by a priest before being worn. Usually, the bride’s family buys them and presents them during wedding rituals. “The bangles are sold only to Hindu women,” said Jewel Nandy. “If a husband dies, the wife breaks the bangles and no longer wears them. Many women also replace their bangles every seven years or choose fancier ones if their financial status improves. In that case, the bangles might be studded with diamonds, gold or jewels.” I asked about prices. “Depending on the quality, they start around five dollars and go up to seventy for plain ones without adornments,” he said. “Sometimes we can make three or four bangles from one conch, depending on its size and the customer’s hand.”
At the Nandy brothers’ shop, I met several women, married for many years, trying on bracelets and debating which to buy. Snigdha Kar, age 55, told me, “This is a very old tradition. Only married women can wear shankha.” I asked if she wore hers daily. “Honestly, I don’t wear them every day—it’s complicated. I use public transport, and there’s a big chance they’d break. But for weddings or festivals, I always wear them.” Another woman, Oalaka Nanda, 62, living in Uttar Pradesh, shared, “There, women don’t wear shankhas, but it’s part of my culture, so I’ve kept the tradition. Whenever I come to Kolkata to visit friends, I buy shankhas for my married daughter and conches for my family.”
One more interesting fact came up in conversation with Mr. Nandy: “A new fashion trend is becoming popular—married men are starting to wear bangles as symbols of their marital status.”
The First Sound and Last Sound
I left Kolkata feeling that the cycle was complete. I had followed the conch’s journey from its harvesting to its final ritual use. Back home, a few reflections came to mind.
In a time when the connection between humans and nature often feels obscured, the conch stands as a bridge—a reminder of the beauty and inspiration found in our surroundings. The conch represents infinite space and the essence of pausing from time to time to listen to the pure sound—the first sound that ever existed.
There is a Tamil saying, “Sangu suttalum venmai tharum”—when a conch is subjected to extreme heat and pressure, it remains undamaged and begins to shine. This expression symbolizes how true character remains unchanged through hardship, showing that one’s essential values endure despite difficulty. It’s another beautiful example of how deeply the conch is woven into the fabric of Hindu culture.
The conch accompanies a person from birth to death. As a baby, one might be given milk to drink from a small conch. Later, one hears it blown in temples and pujas. When building a house, a conch may be placed under the first brick, and once the building is complete, another is kept inside. At the end of life, a conch is blown in one’s honor as a final call to guide the soul on its journey to the afterlife. Thus, the shankha’s warm resonance accompanies us throughout our cycle of human life.
