From the heading title, you must have thought that there is one more article on Maha Kumbh, 2025. But actually not, this contains some new and fresh perspective, ideas and thoughts on same momentous occasion, which we all have witnessed either virtually or in-person. Uttar Pradesh’s festival calendar has become impossible to ignore from the Deep Utsav in Diwali at Varanasi ghat to Maha Kumbh in Prayagraj. I feel this year U.P in filled fest and celebration only. But while headline often emphasize number and logistic, the Maha Kumbh is the festival of ritual, verse and celebration. It is a living choreography of Bhakti, Bhajan, and grand procession.
First, let’s talk about mythological point of view, which is actually very interesting and complex. It’s the story goes long back Indra’s overbearing pride and arrogance lead all into trouble. When he was rewarded with auspicious Garland (which is considered to be adobe of Mahalaxmi) from Rishi durvasa, he places that on his elephant Airavata. The elephant threw the garland on the ground. On witnessing this, Rishi Durvasa was angered. Outraged with this act of pride, Rishi Durvasa cursed Lord Indra and all the other Gods that they would lose all their powers and would be bereft of all their energies, fortunes and strength.
Following this event, the devas became powerless in all the battles that they had with the asuras and the asuras captured the universe. The devas sought the assistance of Lord Vishnu. He informed them that they could only restore their powers through acquiring some holy nectar which is at the bottom of the ocean. Only through churning the ocean would the nectar be brought out. Since the devas could do nothing, they request the asuras to join forces in churning the ocean together in an effort to extract the nectar of immortality. In the end-stage of the churning, a pot of holy nectar was brought by Dhanvantri, the god of medicine. The demons forcibly seized the ready nectar, and a war broke out between the devas and the asuras. Hence, Vishnu appeared as a dancer, Mohini, a good-looking woman and lured the demons, retrieved the nectar pot and handed it over to the devas.
This is how Samudra Manthan chapter ends on sweet and sour note. Yet it is said, though, that Vishnu in his Mohini avatar was carrying the pot about him– and that when some of the amrita came out of the Kumbh. Where the drops fell, the ground received a sacred renovation. Where the nectar dripped became ever-holy places – land so further blessed that a swim will cleanse your sins and bring you spiritual credit. The Hindus identify four of these places, namely the combine at Prayagraj (Triveni Sangam), the banks of the Haridwar, the banks of the Godavari in Nashik, and the holy city of Ujjain.
Here we have seen a festival beyond imagination: the Maha Kumbh, an event so rare and colossal that it occurs only once in 144 years. Most of us and our next generation surely will not able to see this again in this life. The Maha Kumbh 2025 was not just a festival, it was a calendric meeting place where spiritual and corporeal realms met. The first Shahi Snan in January busted the winter cloudiness revealing a scene that can hardly be captured in words. Across the deep sandy shorelines, there grew a kind of transient city of tents and light and flagellation. It was the transient metropolis that came to exist having an area of around 4,000 hectares. It had specialized police bases, hospitals and communication centres, as well as a collection of photovoltaic parks. Its structure aero-wise was that of celestial constellation. In this group fixed, the Ganga was making its way by its channel, silently, scintillatingly, patiently, waiting until the first pilgrims came.
Before sunrise, the chants began. “Har Har Gange!” echoed through the mist as the Naga Sadhus — bare-bodied, ash-smeared, and radiant with wild energy — prepared for their royal procession. When the first conch blew, they rushed forward, tridents raised high, plunging into the icy waters with cries of “Har Har Mahadev!”.
It was a visual festival and a holy invocation at the same time; it was the Shahi Snan the royal immersion that signified the spiritual unveiling of the observation. To the eye, the ritual was more than an ordinary religious performance; it represented the theatre of life of the Indian soul- an ancient culture in action, through rhythm, smoke, and water. Over the next weeks, Prayagraj became transformed into a temporary megacity – a state in which the time flux could be felt frozen. There were sand-paved streets that led to lighted akhadas where sages gave lectures about philosophy, yoga and dharma. The scent of mixing incense and sandalwood filled the air. Devotional hymns are announced by speakers of high volume. Tents were packed with pilgrims, meals (or meals) were served to everyone who arrived via the community kitchens (langars) and volunteers took the old to the bathing ghats. In spite of the stupendous magnitude there was still the aroma of selfless service- seva.
Technology quietly supported the divine chaos. Drone surveillance, digital crowd control, and solar-powered lighting kept the festival flowing smoothly. Yet, despite all the organization, what held everything together was invisible — faith. The festival took a different form each evening after the sunset. The Ganga Aarti held in the Triveni ghats was most mesmerising, as the priests, dressed in saffron clothes, uplifted the burning lamps in a rhythmic swivel, with thousands of the religious followers singing a common tune. The acoustic vibrations spread through the surrounding air including temple bells, conches and voices, which blended together into a united harmonic symphony. Participants drifting earthen lamps in the downstream had a requited prayer or aspiration in each. In brief interludes the Sangam conjured the image of the cosmos itself the one that was shining and infinite and the one breathing life. These events were recorded by imagists, documentary photographers and spiritual sojourners of various global locations but none of the media could fit in their soul. Having been at the event was like taking a step into eternity, whereby, the expression of religion surpassed the boundaries of architecture and moved freely in the open air.
Environmental groups and local volunteers worked tirelessly to keep the ghats clean. Devotees were encouraged to use biodegradable materials for rituals. The initiative was lauded globally — proof that spirituality and sustainability could walk hand in hand. It was now also a global pop-culture event at the festival. Scholars, travelling authors and directors referred to it as the largest performance of faith on the earth. But the closeness was still there even in that mega-, there was a pilgrim murmuring a mantra in the morning, a kid tossing flowers in the river, an old man smiling over his last swim, certain that he could soon be free. When the Mahakumbh concluded, Prayagraj had a record number of pilgrims, to be more than 250 000,000 of them all at one spot. But the city was soon lost in peace after all. By October 2025, I will be able to take a look back noting that the Mahakumbh was not only a gather of faithful people, it was a reflection of the eternal essence of India. It turned out that even millennium old civilization could re- breathe bringing new life to it, re- inventing itself without losing its fundamental spirit.
It was a reminder to all, that Indian festivals are not bright and spectaculous displays, they are living customs where worship bursts in color, music, and movement. However, most importantly, it brought a very plain point home: faith in India does not divide people, on the contrary, it unites them.Months later, now the Sangam is silent once more. The pilgrims are all deceased, and the flags no longer fly, but the river whistles the currents of that heroic period. You can hear, even now, as the wind paddles the water the same faint echo of conch shells, the beat of hymns, and the laughs of loads of souls, of locals.
The Mahakumbh 2025 was not merely a festival, it was a name to keep reminding us that faith in India is like a river. It changes, twists, and does not wither down. Any person who happened to be there that winter morning on Prayagraj and watched the sun shine on the three rivers, it was as though the divine had paid it a visit – not in the temples or in the heavens, but in the living stream of humanity itself.
By: TANISHKA KARANDE
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