The Uttar Pradesh government’s management of food and water for millions, and the civility from police to airport authorities, was impressive.
However, it has to better address women’s safety.
It was the best of trips. It was the worst of trips. Little did I imagine joining millions of pilgrims at the Kumbh Mela this year. It began as a joke over breakfast with friends who described their luxurious tent stay and encounters with Naga sadhus.
I mentioned my Kumbh trip 12 years ago, organized by our father when I was miffed that we hadn’t entered the camp to see the colourful sadhus. We’d driven straight to Benares afterward, and as luck would have it we walked bang into the middle of a procession where a sadhu approached my sister and me, fixing his intense eyes on us before pressing rudraksh beads into our palms. Those memories should have sufficed, but somehow I found myself planning another trip. My sister, brother-in-law, and my son formed our team of four. We contacted a friend, SP, who was taking a group and could organize our tour. Pictures of a luxury camp were shown, money transferred, flights booked—and then the doubts crept in.
Reports emerged of traffic jams, a stampede, and river pollution. When we wavered, SP’s associate assured us: “The rush has died down, there are no crowds now, you won’t face any problem.” Falser words have never been spoken. The luxury camp was a travesty of the images shown, with barely functional toilets. The universe must have heard our plans to restart intermittent fasting, as there was virtually no food or drink—meals delivered from a distant mess at 10 am, 3 pm, and 10 pm.
The next morning, after downing 30 ml of tea, we set off for the Sangam. Authorities had built temporary embankments where people could dip in the Ganga, but we wanted to boat as deep as possible into the river. After walking and hitching rides on bikes, we found ourselves looking at what seemed like a saffron armada against a medieval fort. We got a small rowboat for a hefty price and only when we were handed life jackets, I realised that they were all orange in colour and that created the picture of an orange navy on the move.
Our two boatmen (one a local college student) rowed through fast-moving water under the beating sun. Then came our moment—three dips in the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswathi. We joined countless others in prayers and repentance, some in silence, some chanting to the sound of bells and conches. The water felt refreshingly cool, with no visible pollutants.
We returned to the hot as hell camp with no interest in chasing after sadhus, and checked out, forfeiting a night. We drove through the night to Ayodhya and saw that our promised three-star hotel was actually a homestay. Our host was the considerate Dhirendra who had stayed up all night waiting for us. I joked, “It took Ram fourteen years to reach Ayodhya, and us fourteen hours.”
We had VIP passes for the next morning, but other guests urged us to go immediately as lines would be very long. We moved along briskly, and by twilight, stepped over the threshold. Magically, the lights began switching on to present a surreal sight, like being on a Sanjay Leela Bhansali set. Soon we saw the beautifully carved idol of Lord Ram as a little boy. The whole process took just two hours.
I can’t capture in words our sheer
We didn’t get the luxury accommodation we wanted and endured unprecedented hardships. While stuck in the long traffic jam in our car, we witnessed thousands of pilgrims walking hundreds of miles with bags on heads, children holding parents’ hands, elderly holding onto adult children—all without complaint. We saw the patience of people sleeping in the open and using the stinking portable toilets. The contrast was humbling and a much-needed reset for us.
The Uttar Pradesh government’s management of food and water for millions, and the civility from police to airport authorities, was impressive. However, it has to better address women’s safety. Most of the people missing at Kumbh were female. Another concern is the behaviour of drivers. Our driver was obnoxious but we had two men in our group who held him in check. Other all-women groups told me horror stories—one group’s driver diverted onto country roads and crashed the car into a ditch; another group was forcibly removed from their camp at night with filthy swear words. Women also need to realise the importance of using verified travel agencies, not believe self-professed curators who make a quick profit from the gullible and will not help when they things go wrong.
* Sandhya Mendonca, author, biographer, and publisher, casts a female gaze at the world in this column.