The Kumbh Mela 2013

Where: Prayag (Allahabad)

When: 4th Feb – 9th Feb
Route: Goa - Delhi – Allahabad and return
Purpose: Be part of the greatest human spiritual spectacle

The desire to visit the Kumbh Mela was sown in my mind almost two months ago. And the desire had a
fine-print – to travel all by myself, stay there with the Sadhus or rather adapt myself with the mela, get a
feel of the event and experience it on a as-is-where-is basis.

When the intention was revealed to my parents about a fortnight ago, probably for the first time, there was
an instant approval. No questions were asked, no clarifications sought. (They had accompanied me to the
Nasik Kumbh in 2003. Maybe, they thought, I was a grown up man now and could be trusted to look after
myself). And before they could have any change of mind, I asked my friend to do the necessary
reservations on the mentioned route. Phew!! The Kumbh Mela 2013 was on!

I had a very limited idea of the arrangements. The information gathered on the websites aided at best as
pointers. And then there was this ardent desire to experience the unknown, and the best thing to do was to
stop seeking any information lest it came on its own.

Goa to Delhi – 27* C to 12* C. I got out of the aircraft only to experience the not so gentle breeze,
probably amplifying the outside chill, brutally hitting and freezing almost the entire of my inner ear.
Unaware of what was in store, my armamentarium to fend myself against the weather was safely packed in
the check-in baggage!

They say, the body adapts to temperature changes and at that point in time I didn’t have the time nor the
inclination to prove them wrong. The wait for the baggage on the conveyor belt seemed like eternity.

After grabbing a quick snack at the airport, the focus was the Old Delhi railway station. The train was to
depart at 11:30pm and I had close to 3 hrs to spend on platform number 16. And I was not alone. There
were hordes of people on the platform of different age groups and strata and each one having his/her
individual journeys to make and destinations to reach. As their respective trains would arrive, they would
board the same with some zeal and relief. Some of those still on the platform preferred to squat on the Rs.
10/- plastic sheets which were being sold by sales boys, while others remained standing, shifting the weight
of their bodies from one leg to the other at frequent intervals. To my keen eye, at times, our weight seemed
such a burden on the legs! I chose to sit on the steps of the foot-bridge. That provided me with a view of
the platform and the happenings on and around it. (I observed so much but the lesser said the better)

The train I was to board, had Diburgarh (Assam) as its destination. It arrived on the platform on schedule. I
had a lower berth in the passage. After ‘securing’ (just dumping) my bag below the berth, as I was getting
organized for the overnight journey, I was greeted by a smile. I had a guest on berth number 63. He sat on
the seat and smiled warmly again. I reciprocated. He asked me if I would share this berth with him and
related his story… He was apparently headed for a village in Cooch Behar in W. Bengal, and explained that
he worked as a mechanic in a small garage in Gurgaon, and that his kid was unwell and that he had to rush
back home and that his ticket was booked for the 9th which was 5 days hence and that he was returning
home after 10 months.

This incident was worth pondering over – I was part of a journey – did I even merit any attachment to the
seat which was allotted to me? Was he not in need? Would I have lost anything other than a little comfort
(there are no limits to the comforts sought) in sharing it with him? What if I was in his shoes? Luckily all
the right thoughts didn’t show their presence in hindsight. I acceded to his request.

I slept soundly, undisturbed and totally at peace. The next day while departing at the Allahabad station, we
exchanged pleasantries and he introduced himself as Aslam. (Would it have mattered if he had any other
name? I bet – NO)

It was 9:30 am at the Allahabad Railway Station. The sun was hiding behind the clouds. The weather, as
was expected, was pretty chilly. The rain-god was signaling its intention to participate in the Kumbh mela.
The question confronted me – where do I go from the station – All I had was a phone number of a ‘nomadic
sadhu’ who I had happened to meet about a year ago. I dialed – Yes, he was at the Kumbh. I sought
permission to stay with him in the Kumbh and asked for directions to his tent.

The way to the Kumbh village was very exciting. Located about 8 km from the Railway station, the view
from the bridge and from the road just gave a glimpse of the magnitude of the arrangements for the largest
gathering of spiritual mankind at a traditionally determined place. Tents of different sizes and hues covered
the visible banks of Ganga maiya. The size of the erected Kumbh village has to be seen to be believed. It
wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the capital city of Goa would be about one tenth the size of the
mela.

The tent at the mela where I was to be put up was just at the end of sector 8. The tent, one of many in the
village, was about 3x3 mtrs and having an apex height of 2 mtrs. The floor was cushioned with hay, already
housing 5 people of which 3 were sadhus – Babaji, Bramhachari Vidhya Chaitanyaji and Bramhachari
Vishwaswaroop Chaitanyaji and 2 disciples /visitors – Vikas Agarwal, an IIT graduate from Delhi and
Pradip Ghosh, a pilot with Indigo Airlines. I ‘checked in’ and prostrated before ‘Babaji’!!

Babaji, an ascetic of the ‘Aghori’ sect, who appeared to be about 60 years of age, was the only son of an ex-
Major General! Babaji acquired his management degree from the US, lived a nomadic life, moving around
the country on absolute free-will. Whatever information I gathered about Babaji was quite impressive. He
didn’t have a bank account or hadn’t founded any Ashram or anything else. He didn’t believe in starting
cult practice wherein individuals rather than concepts are worshipped or followed. He enjoyed his freedom
like any free bird who owns the entire space. He is believed to have spent a few years in penance in the
Himalayas in sub-zero temperature zones. His wide knowledge of a range of subjects – Spiritual,
Literature, Defence strategy, Indian/Foreign films, almost any Sport, Politics, History (Indian/World) etc is
phenomenal and spontaneous. Any person who has interacted with Babaji would vouch for this.

Staying in the tent with Babaji and the others promised to be a once in a lifetime experience.

The interior of the tent was very organized. The bags were neatly stacked/arranged thus providing for the
minimum needed movement in the limited available space. Babaji was seated on a folding bed and the rest
were seated on the silpaulin mattress which covered the hay beneath. I sat amongst the others. There was an
ongoing discussion, which on my arrival was halted, and recommenced after customary introductions of the
already present members in the tent. I silently observed and tried to grasp whatever little I could on the
subject matter – Defence Aviation! – A subject Pradeep Ghosh was enjoying. This led to further digression
into history of World War I / II. Germany, Hitler, Gestapo….!

It was close to 12 noon and I was feeling the urge to bathe and freshen up. Just as I asked Vikas about the
logistics for the same, Babaji interceded: “Ganga is flowing about 400 mtrs from the tent, walk up to there
and take a dip.”

Just as I was readying myself to do as he suggested, an Army Jeep decorated with impressive ‘Stars’ and
emblems neared the tent. It was Col. Shekhar Singh (Retired). He along with his wife were disciples of
Babaji and had come to see him. Babaji introduced all those present to Col. Shekhar.

Col. Shekhar, inquired as to where I was headed and what my plans were on this visit to the Kumbh Mela
and immediately volunteered to take me and Pradip Ghosh to the ‘Triveni Sangam’ – a dip at the
confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and the mythical Saraswati – the singlemost thing everyone looks forward
to during the 45 day event at Prayag. And I was no different.

This was turning out to be a dream within a dream type situation. I had just landed in the Kumbh, and here
I was being driven by Col. Shekhar, in his Army jeep through the Kumbh mela area to the Army
Cantonment.

The drive through the Kumbh was on newly laid, reasonably broad, two way, mud/clay roads and the
pontoon bridges which were neatly divided and carpeted with chequered metal sheets to bear the brunt of
the wheels. The Kumbh Mela arrangements/organization was an ideal study model for any management
institute specializing in logistics. There were 14 sectors in all, covering an area close to 50 sq. km. Each of
the sectors was further neatly divided into smaller blocks with an impressive meshwork of roads. There
were security personnel at every intersection, information booths, chai stalls, etc at regular intervals. There
was some vibrancy all around. The ascetics of various Akhadas from all over the nation were seen showing
their presence at the ‘Purna Kumbh’. If there was ‘Ram Katha’ at some place, there was a talk on
‘Shreemad Bhagwatam’ at some other. Every square inch of the village was occupied by some or the other
activity. While some pilgrims were seen headed to and from the place where the canoes would ferry them
to the Sangam and back, many others were at the Akhadas where food and refreshments were freely served.

At the cantonment, Col. Shekhar signed some papers and we were on an army motorboat which cut through
the waters of the Yamuna at a brisk speed only to dock/anchor at another of the army boat already stationed
at the Sangam. The stationed boat was equipped with changing rooms and was meant for the top ranking
Army Officers. The area around the boat was cordoned off to prevent any mishaps.

While Col. Shekhar sat on the motorboat, I had a dip in the divine waters of the holy sangam. Pradip too,
followed in quick succession. The dip in the relatively cold water was truly invigorating. The fatigue of
overnight travel was nowhere to be felt. All that I had resolved to ‘let go’ was found missing altogether.
There was no mind, no body. There was no I, me, mine. The five cosmic elements namely the earth, water,
heat, air and ether were all in perfect harmony. No desires – No fears! There was stillness within and
around.

After the absolutely blissful 10 minutes we were back on the boat for our return journey to the tent. On our
drive back, Col. Shekhar offered to take both of us around the Mela area later in the evening. He dropped
us at the tent to be in the company of Babaji and returned back at 7 pm.

The view of the Kumbh Mela after dusk is totally different. Illuminated tents and streets gave the village a
grandiose look. Loudspeakers were at war. Each trying to outshout the other. Col. Shekhar drove us to the
end of sector 13 and parked his jeep beside one of the largest structure at the Kumbh Mela. The huge
pyramid shaped structure was bustling with activity. On our drive, Col. Shekhar had in brief narrated the
activity being carried out by Balak Yogeshwar Das, a pontiff from Badrinath, who had been carrying out an
Ati-Vishnu yagna at the Kumbh in honour of the martyrs/jawans. Food and accommodation was made
available by the pontiff for the families of the martyrs to stay in the Kumbh village. A row of neatly erected
tents stood out in the fading light.

The concept and initiative struck an emotional chord deep within. I was very eager to have a glimpse and if
possible, meet to appreciate and seek blessings of this holy soul. Col. Shekhar had met the Maharaj the
previous evening and entry into the arena where he was interacting with some visitors wasn’t difficult for
us.

Balak Yogeshwar Das Maharaj, probably in his 50s, was a very soft spoken and humble being. He
welcomed us, spoke for a few minutes and then asked one of his disciples to take us around the camp. The
disciple showed us the entire yagna-mandap and tents. The entire area was decorated with illuminated
pictures of the martyrs. The disciple gave us a gist of the heroics of each of the martyrs as he took us
around. I was deeply moved – speechless. How many of us even care to remember the sacrifice of these
young men who have given up their lives so that we could enjoy our freedom – to visit the Kumbh Mela or
elsewhere. And here was a pontiff, who had done his bit for the families of our Heroes.
Balak Yogeshwar Das Maharaj insisted that we have food at his camp in his presence and supervised the
servings. I had my first meal at the Kumbh in the presence of this great soul.

By the time Col. Shekhar drove us back to sector 8, it was 10 pm. Col. Shekhar spent an hour in the tent
and shared with Babaji and us some anecdotes and light moments during his stint in the Indian Army. It
was after he had left that Babaji made a shocking revelation – Col. Shekhar, aged about 65, who was with
us the whole day, driven us to the Sangam, and then to various sectors of the Kumbh Mela was a 1971 War
veteran who had lost one of his legs at the level of the knee and the other at the ankle level owing to a land
mine mishap and was now walking on artificial limbs. It was just unbelievable – the energy, the passion
with which he spent the whole day with us would shame any youth half his age!

And why did he have to do all that he did for rank strangers? Answer to which isn’t available in practical
parlance.
The temperature in the tent must have been single digit and while we were in our woolens, Babaji was
donning only a loincloth. When in his elements, Babaji could be a great motivator. He narrated various
instances in history, his personal experiences, influential personalities urging each one of us to be the best
in our respective fields and to contribute to the betterment of the nation and humanity at large. There were
various topics including exorcism discussed during that session. It was about 1.30 am when Babaji decided
to end the highly inspiring dialogue.

At the end of day one – there was no desire left unfulfilled for me. All that one could wish for during his
visit at the Kumbh was fulfilled.

Before signing off for the day, Babaji announced that he would be leaving for Dehradun, early next
morning and that a 75 yr old Sadhvi would be arriving by 4 am to stay in this tent. He advised me and
Pradip, now that our dip at the Sangam was completed; to travel to the oldest continuously inhabited cities
in the world – Varanasi – and return after visiting the various temples in presumably one of the holiest cities
of India

I woke up at 4 am to the rustling sound of plastic bags being moved. Babaji was up and ready – I have no
idea if he did sleep at all. He commanded us to clean up the tent for the arrival of the elderly Sadhvi who
arrived shortly after half past four. I had packed some clothes and other stuff needed for a day’s travel in
my backpack, keeping the rest of the baggage in the tent. Pradip and I, prostrated before Babaji and the
Sadhvi, sought their blessings before we took the ‘highway’ to Varanasi.

Varanasi is about 130 km from Prayag. We took the first available bus. I was on the last seat and Pradip on
the penultimate. I woke up to see a signage – Varanasi 2 km - oblivious to the hardships of a 3 hr - 130 km
journey. Simultaneously, I received a call from a dear friend from Goa asking about my whereabouts.
When I told him about my current geographic location – he asked to get back to him if I needed any help in
the holy city.

It was about 9 am when we alighted from the bus. Pradip had a strong urge of savouring the Banarasi chai.
We walked to the first available roadside Chaiwala. “Bhaiya – Do Chai, adrak daalke” and as he was
preparing to serve the same, we enquired about a good place to stay. Bhaiyaji pointed to a place just
adjoining his tea stall and quipped – ‘Saaf-sutra hai’.

In about 24 hrs time, I had checked in at a new place ‘Shagun Palace’. The receptionist was an elderly
local, Sharmaji, aged about 70. He handed us the keys and guided us to the room, which to me appeared
relatively luxurious.

Sharmaji, on being told about the purpose of the visit, informed us of the rush at the various temples in the
city and that it would take about 3 hrs standing in a queue to enter the Kashi Vishwanath itself. I decided to
call my friend in Goa who had offered ‘any help’. When told of our predicament, he promised to get back
in 5 minutes. He gave me the number of one Mr. Pandeyji, who would be calling me and doing the
needful. Pandeyji, a staff with the District Commissioner of Varanasi, did call and informed about being
instructed by the ‘Commissionersaab’ to take us to the temples in the holy town and arrange for the darshan
on priority. He politely asked about the time when he should be coming to pick us up and advised that 12
noon would be a good time. As things were turning out – this too promised to be another amazing day!

Pradip Ghosh, aged about 47, had been flying aircrafts for almost half his age span, earlier with Indian
Airlines, he now worked for Indigo Airlines. He lived in Mumbai and had an MBA degree too, as part of
his academic qualifications. Working in a risk sensitive profession had moulded his psyche accordingly.
For any activity, unlike me, he always has a Plan A, Plan B and a tentative Plan C. Pradip never seemed at
ease and was always worried about what would happen next except when there was a ‘Chai’ / ‘Samosa’
stall in visible distance. The defense he put up for his worrywart nature was very interesting – He was a
pilot who always had to have back-up plans against any eventuality while flying the airlines as he didn’t
have the option of referring/transferring the co-passengers to some other aircraft mid air – he had subtly hit
my profession below the belt. Together we formed a unique pair of travelers with contrasting outlooks to
life.

It was 12:30 pm and Pandeyji, a cheerful Home Guards officer, approaching his retirement age, arrived at
our lodge. I had 5-6 temples on my to-visit list. Pandeyji soon made a mental note of the list and the
tentative sequence. Auto-rickshaws are the best mode of traverse in this congested town. Soon we were on
the move.

It was close to 1 pm when we entered our first temple of the day - ‘Kalbhairav’. And just as we stepped on
the foyer, all that we could see was a glimpse of the idol in the inner sanctum as the doors to the Garba-
griha were being approximated for closure. The purohit announced that these would remain shut till 3 pm.
The mood of all around turned despondent. I didn’t have any inclination to face Pradip and decided to do
the ‘pradikshana’ around the temple and move on. Pradip and Pandeyji followed. In about 10 steps we had
reached halfway on the side of the Sanctum Santorum – what happened thereafter can’t be put into words –
Let’s leave it at that.

The three of us left the Kalbhairav temple precincts in silence. Pradip had for once agreed with me, that
‘everything happens on its own’.

Kashi Vishwanath temple, one of the foremost of the 12 Jyotirlingas, is one of the oldest and primary
temples in this holy town. To enter the temple, one has to pass through a series of metal detectors and
armed security, probably as intense as seen at the airports. The queue to enter was as long as the proverbial
‘Hanuman’s tail’. We, though, were escorted through a green corridor by Pandeyji leading directly to the
Garba-griha where the Jyotirlinga is worshipped. The purohit who was seated in the limited available space
beside the Jyotirlinga, handed over to us some sandalwood paste, flowers and coconut kernel asprasad.

There are smaller temples in the temple campus, of which we visited the Annapurna and Parvati shrines.
There is some mystic feeling in the temple campus and we felt compelled to sit for a while.

Varanasi is a place to be for the devout. You name the deity and there it is. We visited Durga,
Sankatmochan temple and some ashrams in this holy town. In about three hours, we had completed the to-
visit list in spite of Pradip having his samosa and tea breaks wherever/whenever.

5:30 pm and the feet of almost every visitor to Kashi move towards the Dashwamedh Ghat – the hour-long,
traditional, deeply moving, mesmerizing aarti of the Ganga which begins every day at 6:30 pm. We chose
to hire a canoe and witness the same from the divine waters. An hour is too short when one is seated on the
lap of Ganga Maiya. As the Aarti ended at 7:30, it was time for life to move on.

Enroute to our lodge, the auto driver suggested that we take the famous Banarasi silk sarees home now that
we had some time to spare. (Money ???) He took us to a place where they are woven and the outlet just
adjoining the mill. And for the first time in my life, I did what I always thought was a waste of valuable
time. My wallet got lighter and the backpack heavier!!

Day 3 began early. As Pradip was still not done with his daily morning routine, I decided to do the check-
out formalities if any and to interact with the lodge receptionist – Sharmaji. As we were about to leave the
place, Sharmaji uttered in an emotional tone: ‘jaane se pehle ek baar gale nahin miloge beta?’. I was
touched. 15 mins of interaction could create bonds with humans if there were no vested interests.
Commercialization in our lives has made such an impact on our true nature thus influencing us to view all
we meet with a veil of suspicion, distrust etc. A hug can convey a lot more than words are capable of!

A local bus took us to Vindhyachal (we had been recommended to visit), 70 km – 2hrs from Varanasi.
Vindhyavasini – a shaktipeeth, an avatar of Durga – has its story linked to the birth of Lord Krishna and
formed the main deity in this town. We spent some time in the temple which is situated on a small peak on
the banks of the flowing Ganga, and left for Prayag at 3 pm.

It was dusk when we entered the Kumbh area. With Babaji no longer there at the Kumbh, Bramhachari
Vidya Chaitanyaji had to be tracked. Our baggage was kept in his custody while departing for Varanasi.
Pradip was tense – he had been so, for the entire journey from Vindhyachal to Prayag. ‘What ifs’ in all
formats were tormenting his mind whereas I was busy living the moment, totally unmindful to what could
at best be termed as an imaginary situation. Bramhachari was at the Kumbh and our bags safe! Pradip
relished another cuppa tea, in relief!!

Time waits for none. The clock was ticking and I had to make the most of the next 24 hrs I had in Prayag. I
suggested to Pradip and Bramhachari that we move in the Kumbh area on our own – each by himself (that
was my wish when I had started on this journey, though destiny had other plans for me) – My wish was
granted! Finally some solitude!!

The walk was giving a ‘as is where is what is’ experience of the Kumbh. Tents belonging to the famed
Nagas, the Aghoris, the pot smoking sadhus, the controversial Nityanandas, the Pilot Babas, etc were on the
same soil where the sober Dandhadhari Shankaracharyas, Balak Yogeshwardas, Kabir Panthis etc.
Chinmaya Mission, Ramkrishna Mission and various other spiritual-social organizations too had their
presence at the Kumbh. ‘To each his own’. Likewise people were free to spend their time wherever or
with whoever their minds were drawn to. Walking through this maze, I reached the banks of the Ganga, at
the end of the Kumbh village at 10:30 pm. There was the very quietude I was looking for.

Beside Ganga, there was not a single living soul in the visible distance. There was only the melodious
sound of the divine waters for audible company. The river was flowing, clearing itself of all the filth, of the
day, all by herself, preparing herself for the next day where countless people would arrive again to dump
their sorrows, their ‘sins’ and other debris in this all welcoming mother. This routine was on for eons. I sat
there in gratitude and was moved by the selfless attitude of Mother Nature. Time stood still till the mobile
beeped. It was past midnight.

The walk back to the tent seemed laborious. I happened to meet Bramhachari Vidhya Chaitanyaji in sector
9. Pradip was already there and had set our tent neat. We hit the sack in no time.

As the sun rose, I decided to walk to the Ganga, to take a dip one final time on this visit and take her leave
for now.

The day was spent chatting with Bramhachari Vidhya Chaitanyaji, a graduate in Botany, who lived in
Gangotri for most of the year. He during the discussions kindled the interest in me to visit the Gaumukh,
the journey to which he promised to be a part of as a guide.

The sun had softened its glare and I was readying myself for the return journey. Bramhachariji had
suddenly disappeared. As it was past 6 pm, I decided to call him on his mobile. He returned to the tent only
to inform me that he was for the past hour, on the lookout of a vehicle to drop me to the railway station, and
that all autos were withdrawn from the roads owing to the seemingly unmanageable influx of pilgrims from
all over for the ‘Mauni Amavasya Snan” scheduled two days later. The station was 8 km away. Br. Vidhya
Chaitanyaji presented to me in a somber tone three options: 1) Take a local railway from the Jussi railway
station, 2 km away, to the Allahabad station. 2) Look out for a 4 wheeler who would oblige or 3) Walk to
the Allahabad railway station.

I indicated my inclination for option (1) and thanked him for the company and help he had given during my
stay at the Kumbh. Br. Vidhya Chaitanyaji wouldn’t let go, insisting that he will drop me to the station.
And just as I was trying to convince him not to take additional trouble for my sake, he received a call – it
was a Sanyasi from Varanasi who just entered the Kumbh area and was seeking directions to the tent. Br.
Vidhya Chaitanyaji had a relieved look on his face. I got into the Mahindra Scorpio. Br. Vidhya Chaitanyaji
had made up his mind to drop me to the station and the proposition seemed non-negotiable. I bid farewell
to Pradip, who was to be here for another night, Br. Vishwaswaroopji, and the Kumbh Mela.

The roads were flooded by people, and all other vehicles other than 3 wheelers. The 8 km stretch, which I
had covered in 15 mins on the day of my arrival now took 2 hours – yes, 2 hours to reach the station at 9
pm. The train was to depart at 9:30 pm. I was short of words in thanking Br. Vidhya Chaitanyaji. All I did
was a pranam with folded hands, my eyes moist and as I was about to turn away, he gave me a hug and
wished me well.

The Kumbh Mela 2013 had come to a close for me. I boarded the train stationed on Platform No. 1 and
bided my time till the wheels of the train made its trademark screeching sounds and reluctantly chugged on.
When I had left for this yatra all that I had were the blessings of my Guru, who had said these
words: ‘Worry not. All arrangements for your yatra are in place!’ And how true! The experiences over the
past 4 days taught me one lesson – Everything happens on its own. All that one can do is to be a witness
while it happens! Kumbh Mela 2013 for me was the place to just ‘Be’!!