On 9 July 2025, a routine patrol in Karnataka’s Ramatirtha hills stumbled on a scene worthy of a reality show: a spacious cave outfitted with a gas stove, art supplies and two giggling children. Their mother, Nina Kutina (alias Mohi), told officers they had lived there for nearly two months. Landslide warnings finally convinced her to pack up.
Nina’s reason is disarmingly simple: “The snakes are our friends; they won’t bite if we don’t bother them.”
She says she spent her days leading the girls—Preya (6) and Ama (4) through meditation, clay modelling and reading from Russian‑language storybooks. Hotels were off‑limits; she feared passport checks would expose her long‑expired visa.
At first she dodged questions about the children’s father. Later she admitted she had delivered one child in another cave, this time in Goa and that the dad is an Israeli businessman currently on a business visa in India. Immigration officials have since located him.
Born in Russia, Nina hasn’t lived there in 15 years. Her travel log reads like a backpacker’s dream—Costa Rica, Malaysia, Bali, Thailand, Nepal, Ukraine before she landed in India in 2016 on a business visa.
That visa expired in April 2017. Though she got an exit permit in 2018 and briefly hopped to Nepal, she slipped back over the border and melted into Karnataka’s coastal forests.
Far from feeling rescued, Nina insists cave life beat city shelters hands down:
“We swam in the waterfall.”
“The cave had a window facing the ocean.”
“My girls ate tasty home‑cooked meals and learned to read.”
In her view, the forest offered “everything best”—nature, art lessons, even bedtime stories under real stars.
Local police have alerted the Russian Embassy and drafted deportation papers. Moving an overstayed foreign national plus two minors out of India isn’t instant; officials estimate about a month to finish the paperwork.
Nina Kutina believed a cave could double as classroom, temple and safe house, all rolled into one. Authorities, however, call it a violation of immigration law and child‑safety norms.
So here’s the million‑rupee cliff‑hanger: Will this free‑spirited mother convince officials to let her stay, or will bureaucracy drag her—kicking and chanting back to Russia?
Whatever the decision, one chapter is closed: the “jungle school” is out forever, and the hills of Gokarna have lost their most unconventional tenants.