Travelogue
Madhu Kumar
An avid traveller, Madhu Kumar is also extremely fond of reading and knitting. All these activities provide for her a window to a larger world…
There comes a moment in one’s life when a thought becomes a dream and that dream miraculously transforms into reality. Our visit to the Mahakumbh in Prayagraj was one such dream. Not even once did I have a second thought about it despite the sure knowledge that my walking would be severely restricted due to my recent recovery from a fractured tibia and chipped kneecap! Yet, somewhere deep within me, there was a firm resolve not to allow this vicissitude to discourage me.
Fortunately, we were able to book a flight to and from Prayagraj as my still painful leg did not allow me the liberty of sitting on a train for an extended period. I had already arranged for my wheelchair to be sent in our car a day before our departure. When we landed, we were picked up at the airport and, with our car following, we started towards the temporary township that was the Kumbh.
As we neared the area, we were amazed beyond words to witness the sea of humanity that surged along the roads. There were frequent patches where one saw only a multitude of heads as the throng moved as one body and one being. With bundles and bags balanced on heads or shoulders or backs, this mass of humanity moved with a strange calmness and a staunch determination to reach their destination. Some bound themselves loosely with a rope to ensure that none from the group wandered away. Some held on to the garment of the one in front so as not to be separated from them. There were those - bent with age and moving with shuffling steps - who kept pace with the people around them. No one shoved or elbowed anyone, no one raised their voice in exasperation, no one allowed the enthusiasm to flag, no face bore any trace of stress or tiredness - an immense wave of faith and devotion appeared to be carrying them forward.
The patience of the security personnel and policemen who manned the various barricades along the way was praiseworthy. They handled the vehicles, two-wheelers, carts, and walkers with dexterity, constantly directing them to the correct route that they were required to follow. The immense size of the tent city inspired the greatest awe and admiration. As we moved deeper into the area, we were filled with colossal admiration for the tireless planning, incessant brainstorming, and impeccable execution which translated into this temporary city that even Google registered.
Our tent offered us all the comforts that one could expect in the circumstances – ‘Jungle mein mangal’ was the phrase that immediately came to one’s mind. After depositing our bags inside, we contentedly sat in the sun sipping a welcome cup of tea while debating which ghat to visit for the snan (holy bath). As there were either steps to the river or a boat that needed to be pressed into service to reach it, the decision was a tough one considering my problem. The person who was to handle my wheelchair offered to do a reconnaissance of the area to search for a feasible alternative. He was back within twenty minutes and - much to our delight - informed us that there was a ghat a mere two hundred metres from where we were. Moreover, there were no steps that had to be negotiated and there was a path that led right to the edge.
We carried only our towels with us as we decided the sun was hot enough to dry our clothes after our snan. As I was wheeled to the ghat, not a single person refused to move out of the way for me, and not a murmur was raised to object to my receiving priority passage. Every time the wheelchair hit a rough or uneven spot, a willing hand would shoot out to help it negotiate the patch. As we neared the ghat, we heard a steady hum of voices - none raised in anger or irritation - and soon saw hundreds of people swarming the banks. There was constant movement and activity as people waded into the river, bathed, prayed, changed, collected their belongings, and moved away only for new arrivals to fill the gap left by them. Hundreds of colourful boats on the river ferrying the devotees to various ghats and chants of ‘ Har Har Gange’ and ‘Har Har Mahadev’ rang out in the air.
I performed my prayers and rituals on the bank as I could not undertake the risk of stepping into the water. As I took the Ganga jal in my palms, a sense of utter peace and sheer contentment descended upon me. All the noise around me faded away and I felt a strong connection with God. My mind went to my ancestors, my family, my friends, and my loved ones and I sent up a prayer for them all. After our party had had their dip, we got religious symbols put on our foreheads. There were various men, women, and even children carrying a container with colours and stencils. They threaded their way among the throngs smearing their foreheads with whichever symbol a person chose. There were also photographers who promised to click your pictures and deliver them within minutes.
We returned to our tent to a hot ‘Saatvik’ lunch - the meal obviously contained no onions or garlic. To our good fortune, the person who delivered it turned out to be a guide. He offered to show us around and to ensure that we saw all that we possibly could in the few hours we had - we were to return home by an early morning flight the next day. After we had taken a short nap, our guide Sanjay took us along labyrinthian roads and lanes - teeming with people - to Bade Hanuman Mandir which is famous for the statue of Hanumanji that is called ‘lete hue Hanumanji’. (lying down Hanumanji). Legend has it that Hanumanji - feeling tired while returning from Lanka - was advised by Sitaji to rest on the banks of the Ganga for some time. Hence the statue. This darshan was divine and for me - a Hanuman bhakt - complete satisfaction for the soul.
As evening descended and a distinct chill filled the air, we moved to the Arti spot and took seats in the front row. It was fascinating seeing the preparations - the young priests in matching garments, the volunteers assisting in lighting the huge Arti lamps and igniting the gigantic incense sticks. The air was soon filled with a divine fragrance and there was a calmness and peace that pervaded our very being. The ceremony started shortly and the sounds of the Arti, conch shells, and bells filled the air. Everyone received a chance to do the Arti which brought the evening to a sublime conclusion.
From there we moved to the digital Kumbh exhibition which was a remarkable confluence of tradition and technology. Once again I was allowed to enter first despite the patiently waiting serpentine queue. Every bit of the exhibition was planned with exquisite detail and we were filled with the greatest wonder at the immense effort that resulted in this massive display. On the way back to our tent, we stopped at a roadside stall to have a steaming cup of tea and to share our thoughts on what we had witnessed and experienced during the day. All around us were sights and sounds that could surely not be found anywhere else in any corner of the world. We saw three enterprising kids sitting in the middle of the road with a tiny statue on a plate - passersby reverently put coins in the plate and the kids accepted them graciously. We saw two young boys playing a vigorous game of badminton even as they attended people who came to buy their goods. We also saw people cuddled under quilts next to their stalls which sold everything from Rudraksha, to prasad to trinkets. And underlying all these sights and sounds was a sense of fulfillment, of having achieved one’s deepest desire and of a resurgence of energy and vigour.
We returned the next morning from the world’s greatest celebration of faith and devotion feeling blessed, refreshed, rejuvenated, and recharged. Our visit was an experience that will be forever etched not just in our minds but also in our very hearts and souls. We realised that what connected the unending sea of disparate humanity we had seen was deep faith and devotion. The sense of having been part of a celestial celebration still lingers.
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