By Indira Guerrero
Prayagraj, India, Feb 26 (EFE).- In northern India, the road to the Kumbh Mela follows only two unwavering paths: those who arrive and those who leave.
Millions of pilgrims flood the streets, moving in a rhythmic tide of faith. They seize their final chance to immerse themselves in the sacred waters of Ganga in Prayagraj, believing this ritual will cleanse their sins, until the next Kumbh, 12 years away.
Among them, a man pedals a bicycle cart carrying a family of six, perhaps better off than most, indulging in a rare comfort amid the throng.
Nearby, a police convoy carves a passage for a Bollywood star, a politician, or their entourage. In this grand pilgrimage, faith is said to equalize all, but as in life, not everyone walks the same road in the same way.
The city, a labyrinth of sand and canvas, pulses with restless energy. Kumbh Mela does not sleep. A ceaseless murmur hums through the night, a mantra, a megaphone’s robotic instructions in Hindi, a relentless recitation of rules, warnings, and the names of the lost.
The streets remain packed, each pilgrim carrying their world in a bundle atop their head, a scarf knotted into a makeshift bag, a portable home.
A sadhu from Himachal Pradesh, his body smeared in ash, has traveled across the Himalayas for this celestial alignment, one said to occur only once in 144 years, though no precise record exists.
“This day is a privilege. You and I are fortunate to be here at this very moment,” he says, his voice carrying the conviction of one who has renounced worldly life for spiritual pursuit.
But the sacred gathering has not been without tragedy. Almost a month ago, at the peak of the festival, a stampede turned the pilgrimage deadly. More than 30 people were killed when crowds surged against barricades, desperate to reach the holiest point at the most auspicious time.
“It was there,” a local resident gestures, indicating a point now swallowed by thousands still pressing forward, striving for the same sacred goal as those lost in the chaos. Yet, for Saurabh, a city guide, the incident is already history.
“More than 400 million people have come and gone over 45 days, and nothing has happened,” he shrugs, dismissing the disaster as a footnote in the vast scale of the event.
A Myth, A Ritual, A River of Faith
Hindu mythology tells of a battle between gods and demons over amrita, the nectar of immortality. Lord Vishnu, one of Hinduism’s principal deities, fled with the sacred jar (Kumbh), spilling drops in four places—Prayagraj, Haridwar, Ujjain, and Nashik.
Devotees believe that, on this occasion, the rivers at these sites transform into that same divine nectar.
At the confluence of the Yamuna, the Ganges, and the mythological Saraswati, a river unseen but unquestioned by the faithful, a swarm of pilgrims gathers.
Their faces are darkened by dust kicked up by millions of feet. The scent of sandalwood, incense, and spices mingles with the metallic drone of loudspeakers and the rhythmic chanting of mantras.
The sun, a golden witness, rises over this ancient spectacle, where devotion and commerce intertwine in an ephemeral dance.
As the celestial alignment wanes, so does the city that rose on the riverbanks to honor it. The exodus begins from the edges inward, shops vanish, stalls empty, altars dismantle. A silent countdown marks the inevitable collapse of this sacred mirage.
Hundreds of ash-covered sadhus, their long beards braided like timeworn ropes, lead the final procession into the water. Bells toll, chants fill the air, and the river swallows offerings of flowers and ashes.
“No, no, no,” warns Saurabh, the firm triple-negative familiar in India. “The water is not drinkable, too much pollution.”
He has spent these weeks guiding visitors, earning extra rupees. Standing at the edge of the yellowed river, he speaks of faith and filth with equal certainty.
According to the Central Pollution Control Board (CPCB), fecal pollution levels in the sacred waters exceed safe limits by more than tenfold. In the festival’s first days, some areas recorded 33,000 fecal coliform units per 100 milliliters, when the recommended maximum is just 2,500.
“It cleanses the soul,” Saurabh remarks with a knowing smile, “but it’s terrible for the stomach.”
And with that, the last pilgrim steps away, and the ephemeral city fades, until the rivers call the devotees back again. EFE
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