My Mahakumbh Musings

In 2001, Ms. Sonia Gandhi – the matriarch of the grand old party of India – took a holy dip in the Kumbh Mela at Prayagraj for the first time. It was a big political statement by a newbie politician who wanted to advertise her Hindu credentials, shed the foreigner tag to try and improve her party’s sagging electoral fortunes. As news TV flashed the video clippings of the lady wading into and lowering herself into the muddy waters of the confluence, I wondered if such gimmicks really worked. It seems they did, for Ms. Gandhi’s party went on to capture power in New Delhi within a few years after the dip and held on to it for a whole decade. It is not clear if Ms. Gandhi had come again for a ritual dip secretly in recent years, but her party’s candidate won the Lok Sabha seat of Prayagraj in 2024. A couple of dozen years after Ms. Gandhi’s first grand watery pilgrimage, the party still runs some state governments and even felt rejuvenated last year after its surprising (though not good enough) performance in the general elections denied the rival BJP parliamentary majority of its own. This empirical evidence suggests that the waters of the holy sangam are magical indeed. Not only do they wipe old sins, but they ensure better future (Moksha) and in the case of the Congress party, longevity.

Millions of devout Hindus have believed this for millennia, which is why they congregate at the place every 6 years. There are 3 other holy places for such periodic assembly too, but the sheer size of the two rivers here and the vast expanse of the sandy banks of the Ganga make Prayagraj the grandest of all Kumbh locations. This location is truly Prayag-Raj, the king of confluences.

Despite the Kumbh’s monumental scale and high importance accorded to it in Hinduism, I never thought I would ever undertake this pilgrimage myself until recently. I am not a very religiously devout person and do not value rituals beyond their strictly symbolic purposes. There is no designated place of worship in my house, unless you consider work as worship. There are no idols or photographs that are regularly propitiated with sandal paste, vermillion and floral garlands. While I do acknowledge existence of supreme energy in this universe, I very much doubt if that energy has any human-like mind, motive, plans, sentiments and surveillance capabilities to keep an eye on me from the skies, and punish or reward me for my actions and inactions. I sincerely believe that the admin manager at my office who keeps track of my weekly adherence to the prescribed norms for work-from-office is tangibly more powerful in this regard. Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying this cosmic energy is not powerful. It is immensely strong, pervades the universe, creates and decimates galaxies, stars, planets and everything exists or evaporate at its mercy. All I am saying is that in my opinion this immense cosmic power is unlikely to have human-like emotions and thoughts and is, in any case, too great and omnipotent to bother about the happenings on a small speck of dust in some tiny solar system in some minor milky way. I am not sure if I am atheist or agnostic, but I am quite sure that I am not a believer in the sense of the word understood by the Abrahamic religions. Most people in India would still consider me to be an adherent of Hinduism because it is a very open, liberal, accommodating broad church. It is a civilizational, cultural concept that has organically evolved among the people living on the landmass bounded on the West by the Indus, the North by the Himalayas, the East by the Brahmaputra and the South by the great ocean which is the only one to bear a country’s name. Since civilizational and cultural norms of a society come naturally to persons born in it, one does not have to ‘practice’ anything to be called a Hindu. To be called a Hindu, I do not have to be at odds with rationality as well as modern thought because dynamic civilizations and cultures adapt well to the changing times, technology and humankind’s improving understanding of the universe. There is no one book, one philosophy, one dogma to remain absurdly beholden to.

(A ChatGPT-created image of imaginary God keeping an eye on human beings)

So, if Hinduism does not mandate it, why would a rationalist Hindu such as myself bother about taking bath at a particular point of time when some star appears to enter some constellation and when some planet shines on the backdrop of another random cluster of stars, at a particular geographical spot where two (sorry…three) large streams of water meet? But I ended up doing precisely that. I took the holy dip. Yes, I went to the Kumbh. I do not suppose it suddenly transformed me into a better, pious man but I really liked the experience and would not mind doing it again. Let me share with you my discoveries. My findings are quite mundane, observations more superficial and physical than metaphysical. But they opened my eyes to some wonderful things which are fascinating, thought-provoking, astonishing, yet sometimes cynicism-inducing. If you are looking for some deeply spiritual insights, be warned that I might disappoint you.

Kumbh is about connecting

You must have heard that Samudra Manthan story. How Amrit, the wonder-drink, came out of the churn of the ocean by the Devas and the Daityas and how in their tussle to acquire it all for themselves, a few drops of the elixir fell at three locations. Let’s examine this fable rationally. If the drops of Amrit had to fall somewhere, there were so many other plausible locations within the good old Jambudweep. Is it a mere coincidence that all the four drops fell at places where there was flowing water of rivers available for mass bathing? Is it just happenstance that three of the drops fell strategically in three distant corners (Haridwar in the North, Prayagraj in the East, Ujjayini in the South of the then Aryavarta) and one fell slightly further down South on the Dakshinapath (the North-South express highway of trade and migration in those times) near present day Nashik? If you connect Haridwar, Prayagraj and Ujjayini on a map app, you will stumble upon another striking coincidence! These spots as vertices form a sort of equilateral triangle, with each side being roughly about 700 km long. There cannot be so many coincidences around a random spillage of divine liquid, however precious that stuff may be. It is clear that there was a visionary human societal mind at work here which wanted thinkers, sages, ascetics as well as common folks from far flung areas of the civilization to periodically come for a conference, get to know each other, exchange ideas, propagate new thoughts. The ancient Indian equivalent of the talking shop – the World Economic Forum of Davos, perhaps? How do you ensure turnout for the event? Oh, that’s easy. Create an interesting story featuring gods, extolling numinous influence of celestial bodies making a certain auspicious pattern in the heavens, promising detoxifying touch of the Amrit that instantly accrues you merit or Punya – that antique non-monetary version of modern-day cashback – and lo behold, hordes of humanity will unfailingly make a beeline. Tourism, not just of pilgrimage type, has been in vogue in this country for a long time.

Kumbh is about ancient history and geography

Those of you with some interest in archaeology and geology would have noticed that the Kumbh triangle I mentioned above could very well have been a quadrangle, with its fourth - the western - vertex lying somewhere in the present-day Rajasthan where mighty Saraswati once flowed. That was another much-revered river that sustained ancient Vedic society until geological upheavals dried it up and forced the people dependent on it to migrate elsewhere. How do you co-opt such masses and make them feel at home and preserve their collective memory of the river that they lost? Simple! Tell them that their beloved Saraswati which nourished them still exists, though invisible, in the depths of the Ganga-Yamuna confluence. Historical fiction has been fashionable in this country for a long time, too.

One question that may come up in your mind is why the places South of Nashik are left out then? Well, it could be because the population of peninsular India during that era may have been small. Even now, the number of people who reside in the great northern plains outnumber the inhabitants of the peninsular India by 2:1. Also, limited transportation facilities and comparatively more difficult terrain south of the Vindhyas would have meant that the people from the northern plains rarely ventured too far into the South, notwithstanding the famous escapade by a certain Ayodhyan prince.

Kumbh is about curiosity

Naga sadhus are a big attraction. Their nakedness is what captures attention to begin with, but that’s not all. The teeming masses thronged akhadas to catch glimpses of the lifestyle of these mysterious ascetics. Not all sadhus were in their birthday suits. I saw ash-smeared sadhus performing havans (ritual fire), singing bhajans (chants) and often posing happily for pictures with public. None of them were asking for money, but people were falling over each other to offer them that and obtain some blessings. The Sadhus performing unusual stunts (like holding up a hand for years as part of penance) attracted droves of bemused onlookers. Many sadhus had a mobile phone, and if I am not mistaken a few even had a motor vehicle parked in the back of their hutment. Some had surely spent a lot of time in front of the mirror wearing strings of rudraksha beads around their head and neck to create an awe-inspiring persona. One Sadhu stood on one leg, playing dumroo with one hand, while balancing an axe that rested on his bent leg and venereal organ. While I spotted at least one young boy of about 10 among these Naga sadhus, Sadhwis (female ascetics) were conspicuous by their absence at least in the akhadas that I visited. Before you begin to imagine that the Kumbh is shorn of any feminine or non-masculine glamour, let me tell you about Kinnar akhada, a very new sect established a few years ago that roped in Ms. Mamta Kulkarni, the yesteryears’ actress-turned-ascetic as its Mahamandaleshwar. When I entered this place after consuming the piping hot delicious tea being served at the entrance gate as prasad, I realised it was a den of LGBTQ community. Many here were of the variety that we do our best to avoid at traffic signals by rolling up car windows. Goddess Kali seemed to be the most worshipped deity here. Unlike the goddess, which is always depicted as fierce and terrifying, many of her worshippers here looked positively attractive to look at. While the gender diversity was clearly evident, I didn’t notice much racial diversity at the Kumbh during my very brief tour but there was at least one saffron-clad white-skinned firang who appeared to be exploring Indic mysticism in one of the akhadas. Despite so much public nudity, the general vibe had no element of vulgarity or luridness. Overall, a sense of quiet spirituality as thick as the smoke billowing from the havans hung in the air.

Kumbh is about how FOMO spreads and how deft marketing magnifies perception

After coronavirus, nothing in India had spread faster than the fear of missing out on the Mahakumbh. Blame it on the magic number of 144 being bandied about. I am yet to come across an entirely convincing explanation about how a Mahakumbh is celestially any different from a Poornakumbh. The latter occurs every 12 years, and the former every 144 years, which is nothing but 12 squared. So every 12^th poornakumbh at Prayagraj is a Mahkumbh. I get the math alright. But considering how ancient this shindig is and because we don’t even know when it started, isn’t every other poornakumbh a 12^th one after the previous 11 poornakumbhs, on a rolling basis? For the phenomenon which is taking place for thousands of years, what is so special about a small number 144? Imagine a batter in the game of cricket. For someone who has never scored a century, the first 100^th run would certainly be special. But let’s say our imagined batter is a timeless, ageless wonder who has already scored tons of runs in a career so long that people don’t even know when she debuted. Should you celebrate her 576^th run of this season any differently than you would celebrate her 577^th or 588^th in the same season? I suppose not. Yet, what we saw earlier this year was an avalanche of humanity rolling into the stadium to witness this cosmic batter scoring her 576^th run of the season, under a mathematically ill-informed belief that this moment would be more special than when she would score her immediate next run or the 588^th of the same season. But then there is nothing mathematically logical about FOMO, is there? And one Mr. Yogi knows that. In 2019, he shrewdly announced that ardh-kumbh (which takes place every 6 years) will henceforth be designated as kumbh and poornakumbh will be called as mahakumbh. Why wait for 144 years when you can sell tickets and fill the stadium to its brim every 12 years? FOMO induced fans will keep coming, more frequently. Fans need a reason to celebrate, the state needs tourists. It’s a win-win.

Kumbh is about economic boost

As the yatris keep coming, they bring their spending power. Uttar Pradesh needs it. It is one of the poorest states of the country, densely populated and its economy still largely agrarian. Driver of one of the auto rickshaws that we hired during our stay for the Kumbh was a local man who until recently worked in Mumbai, plying a rented vehicle in the western suburbs of the metropolis. He came back to his native town, took loan from a bank, invested in his own auto rickshaw in anticipation of the Kumbh crowds. He might still go back to Malad after the event is over and when there aren’t enough passengers, but the boatman who reportedly earned crores in the last couple of months may not have to. He might build a new house, buy a bigger car, or invest in a hotel building at Arail Ghat or someplace else and vertically integrate his business offering guests bed, breakfast and boat ride to the sangam together as package. A great number of temporary tourist guides deployed at the site by the Uttar Pradesh Sarkar must have earned at least a little bit more this year. Car drivers, hotel staff, tea-stall vendors, cleaners would have seen work opportunities arriving at their own doorstep for a change, even if only for a few months. Renovations at Varanasi and opening of Ram Mandir at Ayodhya had already begun attracting pilgrims to this hitherto neglected part of the tourist map. Mahakumbh of 2025 became the catalyst that catapulted lower Doab, Purvanchal and Awadh to the top of the list of hot destinations. Everyone who comes to Prayagraj would plan to go to Varanasi and Ayodhya, too. These other two equally revered places of worship are within an easy reach from Prayagraj, less than 4 hours by roads which are quite wide and free of potholes. As you travel from Prayagraj to Ayodhya, you pass through the town of Pratapgarh which is famous for its Amla (India gooseberry). No tourist bus would avoid taking a pitstop here and let visitors buy some excellent locally made jams and pickles and whatnot. All three of these big pilgrim towns have nice, new airports too. By the way, here is some tax trivia. A half of all GST paid on bus or train or plane fare by every passenger who embarks on a journey from a state goes to that state’s coffers. So all those pilgrims who went to UP for holy dips and darshans also ended up enriching Mr. Yogi’s government directly.

Kumbh is about what Indian government can achieve in mission mode

I found Prayagraj to be remarkably clean during my visit. Not only were the roads properly asphalted, most were also dust free. Tent cities that were erected on sandy banks had miles and miles of steel sheets neatly laid to form temporary roads. That made sure there were no ditches anywhere in sand and car tyres didn’t sink in slush. All ghats were spic and span and litter free. The river water did not give any impression that these were the same rivers one encounters upstream in Delhi or Kanpur, where the odious colour and stench of the water would keep even the most faithful devotees away from the dip. Some news reports surfaced citing studies which claimed the amount of faecal coliform bacteria in the water of the Ganga at Prayagraj on the occasion of the 2025 Kumbh Mela was 1400 times above the permissible limit. That may be so but it didn’t stop anyone from bathing because the water looked visibly clear. I filled up some bottles with midstream water and even after many days there was no trace of sediment or impurities. There have not been any reports of people falling sick after the ritual bath. This suggests this water was at least not worse than what most humble Indians get from their taps or tubewells. Not sure what the Government was doing right here, but whatever it was, it seemed to be working. Whether and why governments in India can or cannot achieve this feat regularly during normal times is a question that is beyond the scope of this blog. I was also surprised by how telecom companies had temporarily beefed up their own infrastructure at the venue. Despite the presence of millions, there were no call drops or poor data connectivity. I managed to participate in a glitch-free Teams video call with my colleagues in the US while sitting inside a Kumbh tent. Contrast this with when I could not even make a mobile call at a Bryan Adams concert in Bengauru recently where barely a couple of thousand people were in attendance.

Kumbh is an opportunity for politicians to highlight their politics

Anything that involves masses attracts politicians. No wonder events like the Kumbh are capitalized upon to create, spin and counter competitive narratives. Even as the crowds surged at Prayagraj around the Makar Sankranti day, I saw at least one full front page advertisement in national newspapers by the Government of West Bengal inviting public to Gangasagar Mela. This takes place where the holy Ganga meets the mighty ocean. The ad helpfully pointed out that this mela was for everyone (as against VIPs and celebrities) and not just once but every time, referring to its annual frequency (as against once in 6-12-144 years of the ardh/poorna/mahakumbh). Across India, attendance or non-attendance of any neta at the Kumbh jamboree would serve as a handy indicator of that neta’s current politics. If you went and paid obeisance, you have a sizeable voter base that views the Kumbh and other Sanatan traditions reverentially (This category would include the whole host of BJP leaders, allies like Pavan Kalyan as also the Congressman like DK Shivakumar from Karnataka who has to counter other leaders like Siddaramaiah in his party who thrive on AHinDa – Minorities, Backward classes & Dalits - votes). If you didn’t go and also sniggered at the event in some way (like calling Kumbh faltu), that’s because it’s politically imperative for you to paint yourself in the corner diametrically opposite to that of the BJP for any reason (Mamta Banerjee, Uddhav Thakre, Arvind Kejriwal, Lalu Prasad Yadav). If you neither went nor passed any positive or negative comment about the mela, then you are yet to find your political moorings and still wondering what to do in life (Rahul Gandhi).

Kumbh is Instagram-worthy, identity-booster

Steady stream of people from the world of business and entertainment to the Mahakumbh 2025 underscored its emergence as a savvy soiree to be seen at. The rich and the famous have a knack for spotting trends early and being at the right place at the right time. That’s how they became rich and famous in the first place. They bring their own glamour to the event while basking in its glory – a mutually beneficial, public-image reinforcement exercise. If Ambanis and Adanis are seen at a ghat where crores of Indians take bath out of devotion, the plutocrats’ wealth will be resented less by the plebs. If Akshay Kumar properly shows his deference to Maa Ganga, his next patriotic biopic has improved chances of becoming a blockbuster. If Vicky Kaushal’s mother arrives at the Triveni Sangam with her son and bahu Katrina Kaif in tow, many a Hindu heart beats with an unexplained pride and admiration for the new putravadhu’s adoption of Bharatiya values. Pardon me for being a bit cynical in inferring such motives on part of our popular movers and shakers. They actually may have very genuine, spiritual intentions behind visiting the Kumbh. But somehow, I have a nagging feeling that we the hoi polloi are somehow less skeptical about these worthies than we are contemptuous about the alleged asceticism antics of Ms. Mamta Kulkarni known for her boldness who has now decided to tread the spiritual path. Why are we judgmental about some people and not so about some others?

Overall, my key takeaways from the Kumbh, apart from the bottles of Gangajal that I dutifully collected to distribute back at Bengaluru, were that it was a really grand event; visible from space stations; ably managed by the administration; captured popular imagination for a couple of months; provided entertaining fodder for media; burnished the political image of an incumbent chief minister who may claim the prime minister’s chair in future; adroitly used by celebrities to remain in news; helpful to raise enough money that can provide for daily dal-chawal needs of humble sadhus (other than those who only consume air and water for sustenance) till the next Kumbh; a civilizational and cultural heritage that unites the land and its peoples – perhaps exactly as imagined and expected by the thinkers and organisers aons ago.