Devotees walking on a pontoon bridge from the Sangam, at the MahaKumbh 2025, at Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, January 13.
Credit: Rajit Sengupta
Imagine waking up in a desert surrounded by endless dunes all the way till the sky meets the earth. The thought can be unsettling. Now replace the desert with something familiar, and it becomes a comforting thought. If you can replace the sand expanse with humans, more humans, and a few more humans, chances are that you will be at peace at the ongoing Maha Kumbh Mela.
A drop in the ocean of humanity — that’s how I felt while walking towards Sangam, the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers in the city of Prayagraj (formerly Allahabad) in Uttar Pradesh. I was walking with a sense of professional detachment and sociological curiosity. The journalist in me wanted to capture the sights and sounds of this duodecennial event, while the hobbyist sociologist in me wanted to understand the emotions of the thronging devotees. The singular focus of walking towards a goal, and the hope of washing away one’s sins — these bind total strangers in a way only religion can.
My experience at the Maha Kumbh Mela, which I visited in mid-January, was mixed. I was (and still am) in awe of the resilience of the ordinary devotee — it is a story waiting to be told. (This year’s Mela is said to be especially significant because of a rare celestial alignment, occurring after 144 years; some dispute this claim). While I was impressed by the scale on which the event was organised, I felt the administration could have been more humane. More on that later.
Recent news headlines and social media posts have highlighted the hardships of reaching the destination. Clearly, there is a lot that can be done on that front. However, for the devotee at Sangam, the religious experience takes precedence.
Past visit
For a child who grew up believing that the Maramon Convention — a week-long gathering every February of Marthoma Syrian Christians on the riverbed of Pamba in central Travancore — was the largest human gathering, and for a vicenarian spellbound by the Tiruvannamalai Girivalam (circumambulating Arunachala Hill in Tiruvannamalai), the Maha Kumbh Mela was a jaw-droppingly different experience. Despite media updates about the crowd size, nothing can quite prepare you for the moment when you first see the magnitude of the 45-day celebration.
I have been to the Kumbh Mela once before, 12 years ago. It was an impromptu decision. I accompanied a devotee-friend driving from Delhi. Vehicular traffic was stopped 8-10 km outside the city limits. We parked at a makeshift car park and joined the crowds walking towards Sangam. Men and women, young and old, carrying headloads of luggage and provisions, were pouring into the city. Some had toddlers accompanying them.
This year, luckily, we (three of us including my devotee-friend from 2013) drove into the city the night before Paush Purnima (January 13) and managed to get hotel accommodation. That meant we didn’t have to walk an extra 8-10 km this time. On January 13 and 14, vehicular movement within the city, on the roads leading to the Sangam, was restricted. Anyway, everyone, except those who had a vehicle pass, must walk the 3.5 km distance from the New Bairahana Chauraha to Sangam.
Since my visit in mid-January, much has changed. A stampede has taken place and news reports suggest long traffic jams en route to Prayagraj. A friend narrated how, last week, it took him 26 hours to get to Prayagraj from Delhi. We were lucky—we made it in less than 12.
Moment of impatience
Down Kali Road, which leads to Sangam, there is a point where the gradual incline of the road offers a clear view of the crowd ahead — that’s where you get an idea of the massive gathering you are a part of. It is a frighteningly exhilarating experience. You must stand and take in the sight. It gives you a dopamine rush, one that startles the brain cells and quickly retreats, etching an image in memory.
It is not like the peak-hour jostling you experience on a bus or metro. The Mela crowd is massive, but not unruly or aggressive. However, it did get scary on January 14, on Makar Sankranti, when we joined the millions waiting to get a glimpse of the Naga sadhus. The crowd’s trance-like mood which we witnessed the previous day had given way to a desperation to receive the blessings of the sadhus. The security personnel and volunteers managed the situation well, and I believe they certainly prevented a tragedy that morning.
Changing times
Both the administration and devotees have seamlessly integrated technology at the Maha Kumbh Mela, scheduled to end on February 26. At several points, I saw drones being operated by security personnel, piquing the interest of many devotees.
The cellular network coverage has vastly improved since my visit in 2013. As a result, selfies, reels, vlogs, and live-streaming are no longer a novelty at the Mela. That said, one male devotee caught my attention. On the riverbank near the Snan Ghat and a pontoon (floating) bridge, he was offering prayers. He held burning incense sticks in his right hand and a mobile phone in his left hand to live-stream or record the ritual. He panned the phone from the riverbank to the incense sticks, all the while reciting a prayer.
A devotee video-calling while offering a prayer near a pontoon bridge at the Sangam Snan Ghat at the MahaKumbh 2025, at Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, January 13.
Credit: Viju Cherian
Beyond its spiritual significance, the Maha Kumbh Mela also supports the local economy, driven by the influx of devotees. Food stalls are abundant, ranging from rediwalas (small cart vendors) selling samosas and bhel to major QSR chains operating from makeshift shops with billing counters and seating arrangements. Vendors sell everything from blankets and mats to jerrycans (for devotees carrying Gangajal home).
At the ghats, near an akhara (a sect or monastic order that follows specific spiritual practices), I even came across a tattoo artist inking a religious insignia on a devotee’s arm. The enterprising artist had connected his tattoo pen to a portable battery, the size of a school lunch box.
A devotee gets a religious insignia tattooed on her forearm, at the Maha Kumbh 2025, at Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, January 13.
Credit: Viju Cherian
Long march
Walking is a large part of the experience.
It can be arduous, and perhaps, the hardship becomes a part of the atonement. One must be mentally and physically prepared to walk a lot. In two-and-a-half days, I clocked a little over 40 km; and this after using e-rickshaws at certain points. For devotees who walk from the railway station to the Sangam, the distance is much longer.
Naga sadhus on the auspicious day of Makar Sankranti.
Credit: Viju Cherian
The pain is alleviated when you realise you are not alone on this journey. Just go with the flow. To that extent, the crowd is comforting, even encouraging. But just when a sense of oneness starts to develop, the honking of luxury SUVs carrying VIPs to the ghat reminds us that all are equal, but some are more equal than others.
Reality check
That the administration has deployed an army of workers to continuously clean the Mela premises is noteworthy. This had caught my attention in 2013 too. The success is sketchy, but let’s not forget that cleanliness of public spaces also depends on the civic values displayed by the crowd.
Another remarkable aspect is how the security personnel were mild, patient, and courteous. Devotee after devotee would come up, point to the barricades, and ask the same questions, oscillating from ‘Can we go this way?’ to ‘Does this road lead to the exit?’. Not once did I see the police and other staff lose their cool. Patience and mild manners are not usually associated with the police, but this was something else. A Maha Kumbh Mela miracle!
Many takeaways
The successful hosting of the event will be an important milestone in India’s efforts to promote religious tourism.
However, the administration was underprepared in some areas. Lessons need to be learnt from the January 29 stampede to prevent such tragedies. Deepak Pandey, expert on disaster management, wrote in DH recently that such tragedies are ‘predictable, preventable, and avoidable’.
The infrastructure needs to get better if devotee convenience is a priority. The existing inventory of hotel rooms, homestays, and other lodging facilities is grossly inadequate. For instance, the hotel room we stayed in, listed at Rs 2,500-3,000 per night, was given to us for Rs 10,000. The day we checked out, the receptionist proudly informed us that the next guest was paying Rs 15,000! Such predatory pricing is also seen in local transport. An e-rickshaw ride of less than 2 km cost us Rs 20 on Sunday night; two days later it had spiked to Rs 100 (‘No haggling’). Public transport buses were nowhere near meeting the demand. This is unfair to devotees without the means to pay such prices. Even for devotees who had the means, they had to pay exorbitant airfares until the civil aviation ministry intervened, following which airlines cut the prices by up to 50 per cent.
The toll charges on the highways from Delhi to Prayagraj and back cost us about Rs 4,000. We had initially decided to go by train and booked our tickets — but trains were running 10-12 hours late (I assume partly because of the weather conditions in early January). My point here is that not many options exist for the ordinary devotee. Buses are stopped outside the city. A confirmed train ticket these days is as difficult to get as a toehold in an unreserved compartment. Even if you overcome these problems and somehow manage to make it to the city limits, you are left with little option but to walk.
Our hotel offered us a vantage point as it was located on a road connecting the railway station with the Sangam. This meant that for two-and-a-half days, we got to see a steady stream of people, day in and day out, walking from the railway station towards the Mela and back. On January 14, as the crowds swelled, the authorities used public announcement systems placed across the city to request devotees not to move toward the railway station, as it had no space for more passengers. Now imagine if you were a devotee there. You took the holy dip and were leaving the city, except now you couldn’t. This led to many people spending the night on the footpaths.
Plunge of faith
The large and diverse cast of characters — believers, vendors, security personnel and others — has unique stories to tell. The account of someone stuck in a traffic gridlock differs vastly from that of someone who flew in on a helicopter to the Sangam. Yet, all these accounts matter because the Maha Kumbh is a sacred event for believers, an economic opportunity for vendors, and an administrative challenge for security personnel.
A devotee prays while taking a holy dip at the Sangam, at the MahaKumbh 2025, at Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, January 14.
Credit: Rajit Sengupta
On January 14, Makar Sankranti, sadhus belonging to the various akharas were performing the Amrit Snan ritual. It was a cold winter morning and the grounds were chock-a-block with devotees in the wee hours. The floodlights were beaming, and the loudspeakers blaring. A huge group of devotees was taking the holy dip. Many of them would have walked for kilometres to get there, some would have even camped there the previous night. But while taking that holy dip their faces exuded a sense of fulfilment. They had achieved what they had come for. After offering their prayers they emerged from the Sangam and disappeared into the millions waiting for their turn. I imagine they stayed at the Mela grounds for some more time, and began their long walk back home at the crack of dawn.