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(Over 600 million people gathered at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called the Kumbh Mela. I visited this festival from February 1-5, 2025.)

A few days before Kumbh Mela began, some sadhu leaders announced that nobody would go hungry at Kumbh. When reporters asked, “Who pays for this food?” they replied, “One out of ten people donate. Typically, that covers the total cost.”

I have experienced this concept of free food in the past. I cooked food myself at the Sikh Golden Temple in Amritsar. Since Varanasi was established by the Goddess Annapurna (Goddess of food), I personally benefited from the free distribution of sweet kheer on one of the crowded city roads during Diwali. In a small, remote village in the Himalayan mountains called Raithal, I had to literally hide myself to avoid families approaching me with excessive amounts of sweet halwa on Dussehra day. And how can I forget the 4-year-old Pigtail (her trail name)? While helping her mommy bring food to the shelter, she came to me and told me, “There is trail magic nearby. Please do visit. My trail name is Pigtail.” That was the most elaborate free breakfast I have had on the Appalachian Trail. (1)

But food for 600+ million people? Even if one-tenth of these people decided to have free food, that would be 5,000 tons of rice, never mind the huge quantities of cooking gas, vessels, and spices required for this endeavor. How would that supply chain work, especially when big trucks cannot enter these sandy, temporary roads in the Kumbh area? I had no freaking clue.

But I saw an unbelievable amount of free food in this huge area of 50 sq. km. during my walk on the day of Basant Panchami. There was rice and daal, fried rice, khichadi, sweet halwa, vegetables, chai, and all kinds of tasty, healthy, hygienic, awesome food everywhere. Some random person would appear from nowhere with a huge vessel full of khichadi and would start distributing it right on the street. This person would persuade passersby and implore them to have a meal. It totally defies both the ruthless capitalistic business model and the impassioned equitability of socialistic inclinations.

While my left brain was estimating the rice required in Kumbh, my stomach started feeling hungry at about 8:00 a.m. I had been walking for four hours by then. Of course, there were vendors selling all kinds of fresh food. But my destiny brought me to a small crowd just outside one of the hundreds of pavilions. Who knew that I would have an ordinary, yet one of the most profound experiences there?

They were distributing spicy poha (flattened rice). I took a paper dish and extended my hand into the crowd. There were many hands with empty dishes and only one person distributing the poha. I waited, I hustled, and I begged. Finally, I got that poha. Hot poha with the aroma of fresh curry leaves was exhilarating. While looking at the poha, I was thinking about how begging thrashes one’s ego quickly. And exactly at that time, a young girl of probably 8-10 years old came to me and offered 10 rupees (equivalent to 12 US cents) from a stack of notes in her hand. My recently hurt ego and I slightly jumped backward and said, “No, no.” She looked at me innocently and said, “साब, ये आपके लिये ही है!” (“Sir, this is especially for you.”) She almost pushed the ten-rupee note into my hand, and I reluctantly took it.

That’s it. It must have been a one-and-a-half-second interaction. In the middle of that hungry crowd, I kept staring at the poha in one hand and the note in the other, and was not sure what to feel. And the first thought that came to my mind was, “OMG, she has thrust so much responsibility on me and she is gone. How can I pay back to the world? What is my multiplier?”

After 38 days, my wallet still feels weighty. That inadvertent, sacrosanct contract with the most innocent, anonymous, faceless girl still haunts me. When will I act? What will I do? Am I breaking the clause of anonymity in that contract just by mentioning it here in this article?   

Is this what faith is all about? Is this what washing away all sins in the Ganga means? Is this what provides tactical tangibility to that probably illogical, so-called “blind” faith? I have had free food in the past. Why did I feel that responsibility of giving back now, right here in Kumbh? I do not know the answers to any of these questions. But I suspect that the answers lie in my fine-tuned, peaceful, serene mindset that I described in my previous article (2). Such a mindset may be sensitive to the surroundings, may be filled with pure thoughts about everything around me, and may go beyond transactions. If it is my mindset, then the credit goes to millions of people around me.

What happens to the other 600 million people? How will their tangible “faith” materialize? Who knows? Everybody’s life, experiences, surrounding ecosystem, daily learning from parents, education—everything is different. Everybody’s perceptions of पाप (sins), पुण्य (virtues), and faith are different. This is what I said a few years ago in my article called “Tramily.” (3). I wrote, “Tim prayed and thanked God for the food on the table. Tim said, “Do you know something? For me, faith is the anchor.” That sentence from my fellow Michigander, whom I met just one hour ago in the middle of the Virginia wilderness on the Appalachian Trail, is stuck in my head! Yes, faith can be in any religion, faith can be in nature, in science, in oneself, in your parents, in teachers, in your friends, in your nation. Faith can be in anything. But faith matters! It provides an anchor in your life! It makes our lives meaningful, happy, enjoyable, and desirable!” There were 600 million faiths in Kumbh. Who knows what everybody was thinking?

I vow to execute my contract. And when I execute it, I will remember those one-and-a-half seconds again!

-Nitin ”Dadhi” Anturkar (March 14, 2025)

1. A story about cute Pigtail.

Update 5: Back on Trail after injury

2. My previous article, that I recommend you to read to appreciate this article

Kumbh Mela: 7. Om Shanti (Peace)

3. My article on people I met on the trail. I called them my trail family. “Tramily”

TRAMILY

(600+ million people gathered at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called the Kumbh Mela. I visited this festival from February 1-5, 2025.)

Describing what I experienced at the Kumbh Mela is an impossible task. I struggle for words. There were no sightseeing visits, no temple prayers, no extraordinary interactions with brilliant individuals, no emotional outbursts, no drama, no thrills, no logistical challenges, nothing at all.

And yet, it was the most profound and once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. Let me try to explain.

It was the day of Basant Panchami, one of the six auspicious days in this 45-day mega celebration. I was supposed to start my day at 3:00 am, also called Brahma Muhurta, the quietest time of the day when everyone attempts to take the holy bath. But I was late by one hour. I already knew that the administration had banned all vehicles in this entire 50 sq km area, not even manual bicycles were allowed. The sky was clear, the roads were brightly lit, and the weather was crisp and a little chilly at 8-10°C. At the far end of the tent city where I stayed, there were only a few people walking briskly on the dusty road with anticipation. It was all quiet around here.

About 150 meters away, I saw a huge 4-5 story tall decorated arch on the road. As I entered the arch, I saw a massive temporary pavilion on the right side. 200-300 people were brushing their teeth in an open area using traditional datun (chewing a twig of a neem tree) outside the pavilion. They told me that 35,000 people were sleeping in this hall. I was shocked. I just could not believe it! As I peeped through the brightly lit huge door, sure enough, there were long rows and rows of people, many of them just getting up. On the other side of the road, there was a kitchen for all these 35,000 people and a huge number of portable toilets. Slowly, the massive scale of the Kumbh was sinking into my sleepy brain.

I was walking parallel to the Ganga, heading upstream to the confluence. Steadily, the crowd kept increasing. One could see elderly people with walking sticks, young enthusiasts, dozed-off small children on the shoulders of their fathers, and women in red sarees carrying luggage in ragged jute bags. Many women had wrapped shawls around themselves, while men were wearing sweaters. Some young people carried their parents or other disabled people on their backs. Sometimes, a group of 40-50 people, probably from a small village, would be walking together. There was no crying of babies, no shouting, no pushing, no chest-beating slogans. There was just a hushed murmur in the air, accentuating the silence.

Many had walked hundreds of kilometers. Many came by trains and cars, and a few, like me, traveled from 10,000 miles away by planes. Occasionally, I would come across 10-15 tribal women with elaborate, colorful stone jewelry on brightly colored draped clothes. Suddenly, a tour operator would march from the front with his agency flag leading 20-25 foreigners. Sometimes, a group of lustrous dark-brown-skinned men in distinct white lungis (wrap-around clothes below the waist) and tripunda on their foreheads (three horizontal white lines of sacred ash, signifying devotion to Shiva) would walk next to me. I could instantly recognize warkari (devotees) Marathi group from my own birthplace with white Gandhi topi (white cap), Zabba, and Lenga. I saw beggars, sadhus carrying snakes, and countless vendors selling all kinds of products from vermilion, flowers, and rudraksha prayer beads to toys, food, and herbal medicines.

Over a few kilometers, I started noticing back-to-back hundreds and hundreds of pavilions of various religious organizations on both sides. There were chants of “Har Har Gange” (Hail to Ganga), “Har Har Mahadeo” (Hail to Lord Shiva) on their speakers. Some were chanting Kirtans (devotional songs), some were requesting people to keep roads and Mother Ganga clean, and some were urging others to respect brothers and sisters cleaning the roads. And of course, there were 24/7 announcements about people separated from their families in this huge crowd. All these announcements were coming from all directions. It was chaos. The hushed murmur had faded away. But people continued to maintain a demeanor of relaxed walking with smiling faces. Apparently, the enchanted cacophony wasn’t bothering anyone around me. I saw a masked cleaner with a traditional broom. He readily accepted my hug. He smiled and said that he was from a small village about 50 miles away. We both said “Har Har Gange,” and moved on. Not sure why, but I was slightly emotional.

I stopped at a crossroad for tea. The setup was simple: a small kerosene stove, a boiling teapot with lots of milk and sugar, and very small paper or clay cups. I told the chaiwallah that I didn’t have change for a 10-rupee cup of tea. He smiled. He said, “साब, चाय तो पी लिजिये! पैसे का बाद में सोचेंगे!” (At least have tea first, we’ll worry about money later!). I sat next to him on my foldable stool. His wife sat next to the stove on the dusty floor, cradling their small baby. They told me about their blissful life several miles away in a small village, their thriving chai business in Kumbh, their farming, and their relatives. I told them about my American life, my wife, and my kids.

Finally, I reached Arail Ghat (a constructed bank of the river) at the confluence. It was a huge area jam-packed with people. A large number of steps climbed up the bank. I took a dip in the Ganga (which I will explain in another article) and sat at a vantage point watching the huge crowd. More than 5,000 boats were ferrying people to the confluence and bringing them back. A large number of families were performing candle-lit prayers in the sand, while others were taking a holy dip. There were six to seven police officers here, guiding pedestrian traffic in a one-way direction. From a distance, I could see their smiling faces and polite Namaste gestures to the many inquiring devotees.

There were 500 kilometers of temporary roads, 30 bridges, 9 new railway stations, 100,000 police, 200,000 cleaners—the list goes on. You’ve heard all of this on social media and even in my previous article. Do you really think that such resources can oversee 500 million people? Can you imagine this scale? Can India really allocate one-third of its resources for one-third of its population just for this 45-day Kumbh Mela? Of course not. This was a self-managed festival, where each of the 100 million people that day was doing exactly what they were supposed to do.

Did you get it? Did you walk with me? Can you close your eyes and imagine what I experienced? Did you sense that overwhelming force of peace among millions of people? I was overcome with emotions watching that sea of serenity. I was just a speck, just a proud nobody, being part of this eternal festival, experiencing this fleeting yet profound moment. I cried on those steps, before the quiet confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers, surrounded by 100 million people peacefully performing the seemingly mundane act of bathing.

Wars rage across the world; terrorism, rape, corruption, and theft are rampant; the USA alone experienced 500 mass shootings in 2024; and India continues to bear its own share of this violence. But Kumbh Mela is one place where it all melted away. There was no checking by police, no metal detectors, no screening, no arrests anywhere. Even then, there was no violence, no harassment even when women were changing their clothes in the open, no shouting of ugly slogans, not even yelling at each other. Police told me that people rarely reported a stolen mobile. One sadhu approached me for money. He lingered a little longer, and another sadhu instantly told him, “Do not pressurize!” There was no separate area for rich people or arrogant politicians; everybody bathed in the same river anywhere, irrespective of caste, creed, and gender.

How is this utopia possible? Credit goes not only to Hindu devotees but to all of India. It would have taken just one disturbed person, one miscreant, to destroy the entire fabric of this unbelievable festival. There was none. Terrorists, Naxalite revolutionaries, small-time goons, religious zealots, political ruffians—none of these people showed up. Peace overpowered everything else; peace prevailed.

I have been reciting this prayer of ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः (om, let peace prevail, prevail, prevail) since I was born. I never thought that I would actually see it in practice on such a massive scale.

What an event it was!

-Nitin “Dadhi” Anturkar (March 11, 2025)

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called Kumbh Mela. I will be visiting this festival from February 1-5, 2025.)

Just before I headed for the Kumbh Mela, my country (the USA) removed the “transgender” category from federal recognition on one end, while on the other end, my birth country (India) was celebrating the world’s largest religious festival with a transgender Akhara (pronounced “Akhada”) at the forefront of its celebration. Transgender monks held exactly the same religious importance and the same priorities for the holy bathing ritual in the Ganga. Kinnar Akhara was in the news all over India as a Bollywood actress was inducted into this tradition during the Kumbh. But clearly, the presence of Kinnars (transgender people) was a profound demonstration of an accommodative society beyond sensational Bollywood news, not just at the Kumbh but also in Indian traditions for several millennia.

There are thirteen Akharas with more than half a million male, female, and transgender sadhus (monks) that have formed the pillars of Kumbh for at least one and a half millennia. Akhara literally means a field for wrestling. However, in the spiritual context, these are Hindu monastic institutions that were established in the 5th century AC by sage Adi Shankaracharya with the primary purpose of continuing diverse Hindu traditions and protecting Hinduism. Monks in their respective Akharas are trained in meditation, scriptures, and rituals, as well as in traditional Indian weaponry and martial arts. Three of the 13 Akharas also have Sikh affiliations.

Kinnar Akhara was formed in 2016 and then became part of one of the main Akharas called Juna (meaning “old”) Akhara with Kinnar’s distinct identity. Since then, they have been participating in the Kumbh. Although not explicitly a transgender deity, the Ardhanarishwar, representing half male (Lord Shiva) and half female (Goddess Parvati), is worshipped all over India. Additionally, transgender people characters play key roles in Hindu scriptures, such as the Mahabharata. While, women, men or transgender can attain the highest spiritual level through their own perseverance, as rightfully pointed out by my friend and college mate Aziz, the transgender community is still frequently shunned by mainstream society in India. Such is the complexity of Indian society.

So, ultimately what does Kinnar Akhara represent? I feel that it represents a broader acceptance of everyday human experiences. In my limited reading of Hindu dharma, this openness to diverse human experiences is one of the main hallmarks of Indian philosophies and history. Since Hindu Dharma is contextual and non-prescriptive in its approach, embracing new cultures, thoughts, and lifestyles must have been practically easier to incorporate into its philosophies. Even atheism (example, Samkhya philosophy) and materialism (known as Charvaka philosophy proposed by sage Charvaka) are accepted philosophies in Hinduism, and Indian temples do not hesitate to display sexual depictions even in sanctums sanctorum. And then, both consciously and subconsciously, such tendencies might have permeated through all aspects of life, influencing societal attitudes and practices, free from taboos, hesitations, or dogmatic constraints.

Am I taking a leap of faith with such an argument? I don’t think so. Historical accounts suggest that when Hindu dharma was being overwhelmed by extreme ritualism and faced potential extinction in the fourth century BCE, Buddhist philosophies inadvertently helped to revive Hinduism. And how did Hinduism reward Buddha? Buddha became one of the ten reincarnations of Lord Vishnu in North India, despite his initiation of another competing religion. India’s history is marked by the arrival of diverse religious and cultural groups. St. Thomas (one of the 12 apostles of Christianity) visited South India in 52 CE and spread Christianity in India. Jews found refuge in India after the fall of the Second Temple. Zoroastrians sought sanctuary on the west coast, and they became the richest businessmen in modern India. Later, the Mughals, British, and Portuguese brought their influences.  Recently, the Dalai Lama found asylum in India. The exiled Afghan government was based in India. This tradition of welcoming diverse groups continues to shape India’s cultural landscape. Can you imagine that after the 2024 Cricket World Cup, the Afghan cricket team captain stated, “We learned ‘love’ from India”?

These diverse groups of migrants and refugees enriched India’s cultural tapestry with their traditions, ideas, and practices. For instance, Portuguese potatoes and tapioca became an integral part of staple foods in religious fasting diets. Most Indians don’t even realize that the incredible 2,500-year-old Indian classical music tradition adopted the harmonium, tabla (a percussion instrument), and violin just 200-400 years ago from Europe and the Middle East. India is the largest democracy, thanks to British influence. But while the rest of the democratic world banned communism in their countries, two states in India were ruled by the Communist Party until just a few years ago. The all-pervasive English language, initially introduced by colonizers, has become the common medium of communication in India. Hundreds of cuisines and languages, thousands of words, so many sects and subsects, and architectures like the Taj Mahal, all are now as integral to Indian identity as much as the ancient epics Ramayana and Mahabharata.

This potpourri of cultures thrives, and diversity is celebrated all over India. It never had to become a “melting pot.” The conventional Western dichotomy of “conservatism” versus “liberalism” doesn’t exist here, because India incessantly adapts to new ideas. India isn’t just a nation, culture, and philosophy; it’s a constantly changing, vibrant, dynamic “concept.” This adaptability might explain why India remains one of only two surviving ancient civilizations. 

For me, Kinnar Akhara represents this core ethos of Indian philosophies and a highlight of Kumbh Mela.

-Nitin Dadhi Anturkar (24^th Feb, 2025)

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called Kumbh Mela. I will be visiting this festival from February 1-5, 2025.)

I returned from Kumbh Mela on February 5, 2025 and found myself paralyzed by the sheer intensity of stories and experiences. I am still overwhelmed, still soaking it in and still struggling for words. It will take a while for me to peel my mental inner layers and articulate the impact of this experience. This article addresses common questions about the Kumbh Mela (Part II). For additional questions and answers, please refer to Part I (1).

Q: What is the size of the Kumbh Mela grounds, and how are the sectors organized?

A: A: The Kumbh Mela grounds span approximately 5,000 hectares (50 square kilometers). While the area is vast for individuals to traverse on foot, it’s awfully compact for accommodating 10-100 million people who gathered on Basant Panchami day during my visit A round trip from my camp to Arial Ghat, through the temples in Sector 4 and the Akharas in Sector 20, and back to camp covered 25-30 kilometers. That is a killer walking in one day. This exhausting journey was necessary for two of the three days, as the administration had banned all vehicles except for ambulances and police transport.

Note that the entire Kumbh Mela is situated within the dusty, sandy riverbed of the Ganga-Yamuna confluence. There are no trees and no shades. At early morning, the temperature is cold 5-8°C (41-56°F). Throughout the day, bright sunshine raises temperatures to 30-33°C (85-90°F). Although toilets were abundant, I wasn’t confident about finding them quickly when needed. Consequently, I limited my water intake, which increased my fatigue.

I had to prioritize my activities. I skipped the temples entirely and used local motorbikes for one day. The walks on the other two days were exhausting but exhilarating, filled with activities and interactions.

Q: How was the infrastructure at the Kumbh Mela?

A: The infrastructure was excellent. As I mentioned above, the entire Kumbh Mela city was built on the sandy riverbeds of the Ganga and Yamuna. The Kumbh Mela area contained 450 kilometers of temporary roads, constructed by bolting 4′ × 12′ × 1″ iron slabs into the sand. The main roads were wide enough to require ten slabs across. Thirty pontoon bridges, each 1.5-2 kilometers long, spanned the Ganga and Yamuna rivers. The temporary city boasted a clean drinking water network superior to those found in many permanent Indian cities. Clean water was accessible every 100-200 meters via ATMs and taps for all visitors. The tent city, comprising 350,000 small tents and several massive warehouse-style structures, had an excellent sewage system. The administration installed and maintained 150,000 toilets. While not connected to the sewage system, these facilities were cleaned frequently. The entire city was brilliantly illuminated with 24/7 electricity, especially for the peak crowds during Brahma Muhurt (the auspicious time from 1-3 AM).

There is a network of speakers across the entire city of Kumbh Mela. With over a quarter million people becoming separated during the festival, speakers throughout the city broadcast lost individuals’ names in both Hindi and their native languages. Many of those who become separated are elderly individuals who can neither read nor write and speak only their mother tongue. Such lost and found centers were located every 400-500 meters along the main roads. To support the primary purpose of bathing in the Ganga, numerous changing rooms (small tents) were provided for women and children. Nine new railway stations handled thousands of daily trains, bringing vast numbers of pilgrims to the festival. Large parking lots were established around the perimeter of the Kumbh city. And, yes, unlike many other Indian cities, waste bins were placed throughout the grounds.

Security infrastructure included hundreds of drones, 2,500 CCTV cameras monitored by a central control room, and 150,000 police officers patrolling by foot, horse, boat, submarine, helicopter, and vehicle. Apparently, the control room used AI to monitor crowd density and redirect people as needed. Barricades in the water kept people within safe, shallow areas, protecting them from the Ganga’s strong currents. Fully equipped hospitals operated on both river banks. According to the doctors in our group, these hospitals matched the equipment standards of modern facilities in cities like Mumbai and Pune.

Should this plan be expected from the government? I think so. Is the plan being executed well? The answer is “Yes”. For that execution, I would give them “A” grade. But now here are the kickers for which the administration got “A+”.

I observed or talked to 20-30 police officers. I have never encountered a more polite police force. One fellow was hurling severe insults at the police with the choicest words (addressing police’s mother!) for not opening the pontoon bridge. And what did the police do? The police responded by respectfully folding their hands in namaste while firmly maintaining that the bridge must remain closed. Wow! Unbelievable scenario! I asked other police about their approach. They explained, “Everybody coming here is a divine being. It’s our privilege to serve them.” What the heck? Really? I would give them straight, straight “A+”.

A 15-meter-wide layer of dry grass lined the riverbanks throughout the Kumbh city. This thoughtful provision prevented sand from sticking to devotees’ feet after bathing—another example of exceptional planning. That is another straight “A+”. Maintaining the cleanliness of both the rivers and their banks was a monumental task. Yet there was no plastic, paper, or even the usual ubiquitous marigold flowers used in puja (prayers) visible on the riverbanks. This level of cleanliness was remarkable and exemplified the exceptional standards maintained throughout the Kumbh Mela. That is “A+”. One may find such “A+” situations all over Kumbh Mela.

However, even the government’s extensive efforts alone would have been insufficient for managing 400 million people. The most significant observation from my visit was the self-managed nature of the Kumbh Mela. I will explore this aspect in greater detail in my forthcoming article.

However, the permanent infrastructure in the state of Uttar Pradesh falls significantly short of expectations. The distance from Prayagraj airport to our camp is at most 15-20 kilometers, typically a 45-minute drive. However, since the Naini Bridge—the only crossing point—was blocked, we had to take a circuitous 300-kilometer route via Mirzapur, which took 5-6 hours to reach our campsite.

Q: If planning and infrastructure was excellent, how could stampedes happen?

A: Two tragic stampedes have occurred during the event. The first occurred during Mouni Amavasya at the confluence at 1:00 AM, resulting in 40 fatalities. The second incident took place at New Delhi Railway Station, 800 kilometers away, involving Kumbh pilgrims. These were heart-breaking episodes. I have developed a deep emotional connection with the Kumbh Mela and its devotees. I literally wept on both occasions. I had hoped for a safe travel for everybody. But that was not to be.

Was I anxious about my own travel after first stampede? No, I was not. For more details, please read my blog post titled “My Journey of Confronting Fear.” (2). It sounds very harsh, but In hindsight, the probability of a stampede occurring was nearly certain. However, the sheer number of attendees meant that the probability of any specific individual becoming involved in a stampede was extremely low.

The administration implemented additional safety measures on the auspicious day of Basant Panchami during my visit. All vehicle traffic was closed. Not even bicycles were allowed. All river crossings were closed, and pilgrims were required to bathe at their point of arrival rather than at the confluence. Pedestrian traffic was strictly controlled in a one-way system. Only media personnel were permitted to observe the sadhus’ procession to the Ganga for their sacred bath. These comprehensive safety measures ensured a secure bathing experience for all participants.

Q: How clean was the Ganga?

A: I swear, I swear, I can emphatically confirm that the water was clean. From my camp, I could clearly see a large school of fish at the bottom of the river, approximately 1.5 meters (4.5 feet) deep. The attached photograph shows birds in the river’s center—a scene impossible to capture in polluted waters.  Throughout my stay at the camp, I did not observe any plastic bottles or paper waste floating in the river. In certain barricaded shallow areas, I did observe marigold flowers floating in the water. But the banks were clean. It helped that Government has enforced shutting down of all the industrial waste water entering the upstream river for hundreds of kilometers. Additionally, visitors were continuously reminded to maintain the Ganga’s cleanliness. Naturally, this wasn’t comparable to a pristine Detroit suburb with manicured lawns. After all, this was a river bed. It was muddy and dusty everywhere, but definitely not dirty.

You might find this difficult to believe. There were millions and millions of people taking bath. The visitors came from towns and cities that typically lack proper sanitation. There were probably merely 50,000 people cleaning this area. AND Ganga was clean! Never ever I thought that this level of cleanliness was possible.

But what about millions of people bathing in the river? What about their perspiration, bacteria and undisciplined secret peeing in the river? Well, unlike a swimming pool, the river’s rapid flow constantly refreshes the water. People bathed here precisely because the water is considered sacred. Those concerned about such matters might want to reconsider visiting the Kumbh Mela.

Q: How was my tent?

A: As a trekker, I was ready for a minimalist tent. However, this tent was exceptionally luxurious. It featured a double bed with a comfortable mattress, comforter, standard pillows, and even decorative cushions. There were sofa and chairs in the main room and easy chairs in the verandah. The amenities included 24-hour running water and electricity, hot showers, Western-style toilets, in-room tea and coffee facilities, ceiling fans for warm afternoons, and fresh towels available upon request. The accommodation also provided secure lockers for valuables, Wi-Fi connectivity, and evening entertainment programs. Can you believe that this entire infrastructure was constructed on sand for just 45 days. Though expensive, the tent exceeded all expectations in terms of luxury and comfort.

The dining hall accommodated 250-300 people and offered an impressive buffet featuring reasonable quality of cuisine. The Ganga River was merely 20 steps away, perfect for quiet prayer, and the entire premises were immaculately maintained.

I have now completed my questions and answers (in this and the last article). In next few blogs, I will try to articulate the impact of Kumbh on me.

– Nitin Dadhi Anturkar (17^th Feb 2025)

Acknowledgment:

The majority of photographs featured in my Kumbh Mela blog series were taken by me personally. Some photographs were contributed by friends who accompanied me to the Kumbh Mela..

(1) https://www.dadhionthetrail.com/2025/02/13/kumbh-mela-4-understanding-its-purpose-scale-and-celestial-significance/

(2) https://www.dadhionthetrail.com/2025/01/31/kumbh-mela-preview-my-journey-of-confronting-fear/

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called Kumbh Mela (festival). I will be visiting Kumbh Mela from February 1-5, 2025.)

I returned from Kumbh Mela on February 5, 2025. I found myself paralyzed by the sheer intensity of stories and experiences. I am still overwhelmed, still soaking it in and still struggling for words.

It will take a while for me to peel my mental inner layers and articulate the impact of this experience. Meanwhile, let’s address some common questions about the Kumbh Mela.

Q: What is the significance of the Kumbh Mela celebration?

A: According to Hindu beliefs, taking a ritual bath at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers during Kumbh cleanses one’s sins and offers mukti (liberation from the cycle of reincarnation). Millions gather at Prayagraj driven by this sacred belief.

The festival also draws sadhus (holy men) from their solitary retreats across the vast land of India. Among them are the Naga sadhus, who have performed their own pinda-daan (funeral rites) to symbolically end their worldly existence. For these ascetics, Mother Ganga remains their sole connection, making their reunion every twelve years deeply significant.

The Kumbh Mela serves as a massive spiritual gathering featuring thousands of sermons, devotional meetings between pilgrims and sadhus, religious discourses, mass pujas (worship ceremonies), exchange of views among sadhus, induction of new sadhus, cultural events and book exhibitions. It’s also a time when new aspirants begin their journey into ascetic life through Sanyas (renunciation of worldly attachments).

Q: Is the expected attendance of 400 million people at Maha Kumbh accurate?

A: This question is completely irrelevant for my experience at Maha Kumbh. Anything above million people was already beyond my imagination. But let me provide my understanding of the crowd size based on my observations.

The Kumbh Mela has no formal entry points or invitations. Pilgrims continuously stream into the 30-by-2-kilometer area via roads and railways, day and night. Apparently, independent organizations verified that the previous Ardha Kumbh in 2019 drew between 200 and 220 million people. Better access, higher population and social media awareness are expected to increase this number dramatically. During Basant Panchami this year, the crowd density was so intense that my walking even a few kilometers meant constant physical contact with others. With the festival 70 percent complete, attendance has already exceeded 500 million people. So, do I trust government declared daily numbers? The answer is “yes”, with few caveats.

The government uses drones, CCTV cameras, and other aerial surveillance tools to estimate crowd size. However, the constant movement of pilgrims can lead to double-counting. Most people visit the river, take a dip and leave the area, all in a single day. But, multi-day visitors like myself are inevitably counted multiple times. Additionally, the tent city houses approximately one million permanent residents—including sadhus, workers, and police personnel—who are also repeatedly included in daily counts.

As a completely side note, capacity planning for such a unique and massive event in the world has been of interest to many researchers (1). MIT researchers ((Ramesh Raskar, Nilay Kulkarni and Abhishek Mehta) have also visited and analyzed supply chain in 2019 and 2025. Their analysis has assumed the flow of 400 million people.

Q: What role do planetary alignments play in determining Kumbh Mela dates?

A: The Kumbh Mela has been celebrated for millennia at four sacred locations in India—Haridwar, Prayagraj, Nashik, and Ujjain. The dates are determined by specific zodiacal alignments of Jupiter and the Sun, based on highly developed ancient Indian astronomical calculations. Jupiter completes its zodiacal cycle in approximately 12 years, while the Sun completes its cycle in one year. These orbital periods determine the timing of each Kumbh Mela, as illustrated in the diagram.

Jupiter’s precise orbital period of 11.86 years necessitates a correction in the Kumbh cycle. After six consecutive 12-year cycles, the seventh Kumbh occurs after 11 years—a adjustment similar to the leap year correction in the solar calendar. Such recent correction happened in Haridwar in 2021. (3)

Additionally, Haridwar and Prayagraj uniquely observe the Ardha (half) Kumbh Mela midway between two Purna (complete) Kumbh Melas, occurring every six years.

Q: Why such specific planetary alignments chosen for Kumbh?

A: One theory suggests a connection to the 11-year solar activity cycle. However, the relationship between increased solar activity and the spiritual significance of ritual bathing remains unclear. Moreover, this theory doesn’t explain why the Kumbh occurs at different times across the four locations.

Q: Why were these four specific locations—Haridwar, Prayagraj, Nashik, and Ujjain—chosen for the Kumbh Mela, rather than other cities (such as my hometown Dombivali, or my current city of Canton, Michigan)?

A: The mythology of the Kumbh Mela, as discussed in my previous blog post (4), provides essential context. During the Samudra-Manthan (the churning of the cosmic ocean), the nectar of immortality emerged in a sacred vessel called the Kumbh. fierce battle erupted between the Devas (celestial beings) and Asuras (demons) for possession of this precious nectar. During this cosmic conflict, drops of the divine nectar fell at four sacred sites across India: Haridwar, Prayagraj, Nashik, and Ujjain. The specific reasons—whether astronomical, political, or cultural—for the significance of these four locations remain shrouded in mystery.

Q: Is there special significance to the 144-year cycle of the Maha Kumbh Mela?

A: My limited research has not uncovered historical evidence supporting a special 144-year Maha Kumbh Mela cycle. If we account for the correction of the seventh cycle across all locations, the mathematical interval between major cycles would be 143 years, not 144. There is also no specific planetary alignment mentioned after every 144 years.

One theory suggests a connection to the six-planet alignment visible since late January 2025, an astronomical event that occurs every 175 years. However, determining the historical cycles of such alignments from several millennia ago requires further research. (5)

The next installment will explore the Kumbh Mela’s layout, infrastructure, the Ganga’s water quality, and the available tent facilities for me.

-Nitin Anturkar (February 13, 2025)

Acknowledgment:

(1) The planetary alignment discussion draws from correspondence with Anil Ketkar, an accomplished astrophotographer and college alumnus.

(2) Most photographs featured in my Kumbh blogs are ones I captured personally. However, I’ve also included images shared by friends who accompanied me to the Kumbh Mela.

References:

1. “Capacity Planning for Large Scale People Movement: Models and Application to Ujjain Kumbh Mela,” by Jyotirmoy Dalal, Ananth V. Iyer, Naval Research Logistics, Wiley Online Library, 2021.

2. Sanskrit shlokas (stanzas) describing the planetary positions of Sun and Jupiter are mentioned in the source below.

Mahakumbh Mela – Astrological Aspect

3. Jupiter takes 11.86 years to complete one revolution around all the zodiac signs.

https://www.indastro.com/planets/jupiter-planet.html#:~:text=Astronomical%20Facts%20about%20Jupiter&text=It%20takes%20around%2011.86%20years,sign%20for%20around%2013%20months.

4. https://www.dadhionthetrail.com/2025/01/18/kumbh-mela-preview-self-exploration-part-ii/

5. https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20250117-planetary-parade-what-the-alignment-of-seven-planets-really-means-for-science

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. This 45-day festival is called Kumbh Mela. I will be visiting it from February 1-5, 2025.)

Why should I discuss “confronting fear”? On January 29th, a stampede occurred at the Kumbh Mela during one of its most auspicious days. More than 30 million people had already gathered near the confluence by 1 AM on that day. Unfortunately, more than 30 people died in this mishap. It was a devastating tragedy. While I was grief-stricken, many friends reached out to check on my safety and expressed their concern for my well-being. At the time of the stampede, I was in Mumbai and unaffected by the tragedy. The administration quickly contained the situation. I plan to travel tomorrow for five days as per my original plan.

I want to assure you that I remain undaunted and would like to share my journey of confronting fear.

It was Friday, December 14, 2018. I eagerly anticipated attending a social event at a quaint church in Farmington Hills, a Detroit suburb. During the event, my breathing suddenly became labored, and a sharp pain shot through my heart. I was having a heart attack. What followed was standard protocol. An ambulance arrived promptly; I was rushed to the nearest hospital, where doctors inserted a stent. What wasn’t routine, however, was my unusual state of mind: I felt no anxiety about the future, no questioning of “what” or “why,” no yearning to live, no fear of dying. It never crossed my mind that I might not see my wife’s serene face or my children again. It was not routine that I was joking with my surgeon, while I was on the surgery table. I was lucky. I was simply oblivious to the fear.

Two years later, our friend Manoj suddenly dropped a bombshell on our close friends’ WhatsApp group. His wife Jyothi, a Vedant teacher, had been diagnosed with stage-four cancer and given no more than a year to live. It was a stark and desolate message, the kind that sucker-punches you and leaves us all reeling, struggling to process the information.  After sharing this news, Manoj posted her recent Zoom recording (1). In the video, her voice was calm and peaceful with the demeanor of unwavering assurance. She smiled even while describing her excruciating pain, her eyes brightening as she spoke about death. She stated, “Birth and death are two sides of the same coin. Since one cannot exist without the other, death should be celebrated as much as birth.” I had never heard of such an open, transparent, unabashed and blatant “celebration” of death. Her words were profound. “Since we don’t know when death will appear at our doorstep,” she continued, “we should transcend time by focusing solely on the present moment, letting go of past and future.”

But, wait a minute! I’m not Jyothi! I’m not enlightened! These techniques are challenging to practice, despite my earnest efforts. The journey remains long and arduous. As a first step, I’ve begun to confront and embrace pain and fear directly. During my long-distance backpacking trips, I regularly envision a snake slithering into my sleeping bag. Will this mental preparation help me overcome anxiety and fear on the trail? Can I maintain composure in such situations? I’ve started openly sharing my experience with a “widow-maker” heart attack, both verbally and in writing. I’ve also had candid conversations about mortality and death with my wife Anjali and our children. These explorations of fear and death continue.

Then I embarked solo on the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail with a strong support of my wife. I had a long list of fears. The fears were numerous: another “widow-maker” heart attack in a remote area, complications with my metal knee replacement, gout attacks, a frozen left shoulder, potential skull fracture on Pennsylvania’s treacherous boulders, the impending emergence of billions of cicadas, the solitude of hiking alone, encounters with poisonous rattlesnakes and camouflaged copperheads, bear confrontations, rats in shelters, bee stings, and tick-borne diseases. The list seemed endless.

Through mental training, I systematically bulldozed these fears. Period.                            

A fearless mind revealed an unexpectedly beautiful world. I observed the glossy-coated bear with wonder, listened to snake rattles as attentively as beloved Bollywood melodies, and walking on the trail itself became a life-time experience! Fearless mind also taught me to live in the moment! No anxieties of the future, no concerns of the past! 1-1, 2-2, 3-3, one breath, one step at a time! Literally! Without realizing it, I had internalized the challenging yogic practice of living in the present moment.

Now I face the sobering reality of the Kumbh Mela stampede as I prepare for my own journey there. Will I have a life-time experience, or will it all be swept away in my fear? Will I achieve self-discovery, or will the crowds cloud my mind? Should I embrace the experience of immersing myself in the Ganges while honoring my ancestors, or should I skip the dip in Ganga? Will I have no stress, no fear, no scare, full focus, full fun and extreme alert, or my mind will be filled with unnecessary anxiety?

What do you think?

– Nitin Anturkar (January 31^st, 2025)

– Jyothi’s video on “Disease, Distress and Death”: 

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. I will be visiting the Kumbh Mela from February 1-5, 2025.)

OMG, suddenly, there is an overwhelming surge of hype, hoopla, and cacophony about the Kumbh Mela across India. There are thousands of videos and news clips blaring every day. Steve Jobs’ wife has allergies after her first dip in the Ganga, another IIT-baba has emerged, one sadhu (monk) grows rice on his head, another has been standing for last 15 years even in sleep, assembly of 400 million people, Kumbh after 144 years, 150,000 toilets built, mystic of unclothed Naga Sadhus, 30 bridges, free food, underwater drones, clean Ganga, good politicians, opportunists politicians, security, videos from train, videos from cars, videos from helicopters… there is no end to the streaming.

Then there are the rituals: offering water three times to three types of ancestors and taking dips only 3, 5, 7, 11, or 17 times (notably all prime numbers). Perform pooja on the banks; leave your body unwiped for three minutes; and visit the Nag-Vasuki temple to earn punya (virtues). Claims range from the highest centrifugal force on Earth being present in Prayagraj during the Kumbh to the Jovian effect enhancing spirituality—the media’s barrage of advice seems endless.

Do I sound sarcastic? I assure you, I’m not. Five percent of the world’s population seeking liberation (mukti) in one place is truly a mind-blowing event! It deserves all the publicity it can get, and more. Today is the fifth day of the Kumbh, and already 45 million people have visited Prayagraj—remarkably, not a single crime has been reported on our typically negativity-seeking social media. For Americans like me, that itself is a miracle. Besides, there is no stampede, no violence, no crushing others, no dirty trash floating in the river! As we say in America, “knock on wood”—may everything continue to go well.

But that’s not why I’m going to the Kumbh. In my previous article, I discussed what my dip in the Ganga symbolizes to me and what I learned from the sadhus I met during earlier pilgrimages (1). Let me continue my thoughts on self-exploration.

Let’s begin with the mythology behind the Kumbh’s origin: the Samudra-Manthan (churning of the ocean), beautifully sculpted in the main atrium of Thailand’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. The Devas (gods) and Asuras (demigods) churned the ocean using Mount Mandara as a rod and the serpent Vasuki as a rope, seeking the nectar of immortality. The Samudra Manthan yielded various substances from the ocean. Then fourteen special gems emerged, including the goddesses of wealth (Lakshmi), sleep (Nidradevi), and wine (Varuni); the god of medicine (Dhanvantari); and the wish-granting cow (Kamdhenu) and tree (Kalpavruksha). Eventually, the nectar emerged in the Kumbh (pot). The Devas and Asuras fought over it. Drops of nectar fell at four places in India, one being Prayagraj—where the Kumbh is now held at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati.

The Samudra Manthan has barely begun in my mind—even the poison Halahal hasn’t emerged, let alone the nectar. Can I confront myself honestly during the Kumbh and spew out this poison from my mind? Where within me is the Lord Shiva who can digest this poison? For example, can I challenge myself on:

– Do I harbor racist and biased thoughts, even subconsciously?

– Do I truly respect everyone—regardless of their gender, religion, actions, or even moral values?

– When I offer namaste, do I genuinely acknowledge the divine in the person before me, or is it merely a formality?

– When I pray Pasaydan by Saint Dnyaneshwar from 13th century, it says, “जे खळांचि व्यंकटी सांडो, तया सत्कर्मी रती वाढो, भूतां परस्परे पडो, मैत्र जीवांचे!” (May the negative karma of sinners be eliminated—not the sinners themselves; may their good karma flourish; may friendship and harmony grow among all beings). Do I truly embrace this teaching, or do I still harbor hatred for the sinners themselves?  

– Can I transcend my ego, hatred, jealousy, anger, and desires to fill my soul with infinite love?

– Should I abandon the Manthan entirely and simply surrender to the divine?

These questions could continue endlessly—the list is infinite. The central question remains: “Will the Kumbh accelerate my Samudra Manthan?”

Perhaps what will catalyze my Manthan is the presence of these massive crowds. Will I be able to feel their reverence and devotion, their pious thoughts, their collective spiritual energy? Imagine all these people saving modest amounts of money from their meager daily earnings, imagine their travel to this Kumbh from hundreds of kilometers to fulfill their lifelong dreams, imagine standing in this crushing crowd for hours and hours in anticipation of the dip in Ganga, imagine three minutes of dip, and then spending the rest of their lives cherishing that brief moment while caring for family, helping others, avoiding hatred, working hard, following the law and one’s dharma, and finding joy in life’s simple moments. That is faith—the truth beyond facts. Who am I to challenge such power? I am but a speck in this vast universe.

What a power of this collective faith at the Kumbh—the spiritual force generated by millions of souls! Will I sense it, will I be overwhelmed, will I feel humble, small, and tearful—just another tiny element in this unabating flow of civilization, in this eternal flow of time?

The validity of this experience ultimately depends on one’s purity of heart, perspective, and approach. Just outside the Rameswaram Temple gates in South India, a signboard displays the excerpt from a speech by Swami Vivekanand, the modern Indian saint. Swamiji’s message was very blunt: he advised devotees against visiting the temple if their hearts were not pure (2). The excerpt reads: “It is in pure and sincere love in heart that religion exists, not in ceremony. Unless a man is pure in body and mind, entering a temple and worshiping God is futile. If a person enters a temple with an impure mind, they add to their existing sins and leave in a worse state than when they arrived.” Why would the Kumbh be any different from Rameswaram?

Have I been drowned by social media? Yes. Will my self-exploration continue regardless? Absolutely. Will my mind be pure enough to absorb the extraordinary spiritual energy at the Kumbh? I hope so. Meanwhile, my seeking continues!

Nitin Anturkar (Jan 17, 2025)

– My previous article on Kumbh,

Kumbh Mela Preview: 1. Self Exploration – Part I

– A speech by Swami Vivekanand outside Rameswaram temple: https://singhruby.com/2018/05/29/swami-vivekanandas-message-at-the-ramanathaswamy-temple-in-rameshwaram/

(400 million people are expected to gather at the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati rivers near the city of Prayagraj for a holy dip from January 13 to February 26, 2025. I will be visiting the Kumbh Mela from February 1-5, 2025.)

Happy new year!

This will be a totally crazy travel! I will be one among 400 million people visiting the Maha-Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj, India at the end of January 2025 (Nope, there is no typo here!). This party without alcohol is bigger than the freaking entire population of the USA. I suspect that these will be the most exciting five days of my travelling life. (FYI, the previous Ardha-Kumbh in 2019 had 200-220 million people as per Government of India.)

I know! Most of my friends’ first concern is about hygiene, especially if I say that I plan to take a dip in the Ganga/Yamuna/Saraswati confluence EVERY day. But how can I resist myself in submerging (literally and otherwise) and surrendering in this experience! I will be staying in a luxury tent and will drink bottled water. My ass will lie comfortably on a proper mattress each night. But I cannot, will not and do not want to be away from 400 million people during the day. Period.

I know! The government administration will be thinking about safety and security to avoid mishaps. They have deployed thousands of AI equipped CCTVs, robots, boats, helicopters and underwater cameras. They have 30 new temporary bridges and nine new railway stations. But all of these fancy deployments are so inadequate for the scale of the gathering. How can they bring one third of national resources to just one city for the gathering of one third of the nation? Authorities will rely heavily on crowd to self-regulate. They will also rely on a history of extremely low crime, lack of endemic outbreak, major stampede or terrorism in Kumbh.

What will I do in Kumbh?

The one thing that I know! I will not hide my tears. Ganga represents me, my ancestors, my intellect, my consciousness, my culture, my homeland, my roots, my books, my biases, my frustrations, my struggles… everything! I know that I will cry when I take a dip. 

Why is such an emotional response? Let me explain. We are steeped in the symbolism. Lord Ganesh’ broken tusk, General Motor’s corporate logo, “Hail to the victor’s” song of the University of Michigan, national anthem while waving national flag – they are all symbols. There is no end to symbolism since ancient civilizations. I suspect that in most cases, we need symbols for non physical entities that we created or imagined, such as religions, corporations, nations, thoughts, principles, spirituality, values and many more (1).

So why would I be emotional when I touched Ganga? Because Indian civilization thrived on the banks of Ganga, and hence, Ganga is a symbol of me, my ancestors, my intellect and everything else that I mentioned above. Essentially Ganga is my symbol, your symbol, and if Ganga represents rivers and their civilizations all over the world, then it is a symbol of everybody in the world.

I know! I will meet as many sadhus (monks) as possible. This is a much-maligned community, thanks to the notoriety in social media of a few bad apples and inherent skepticism among “intellectuals”. But for every bad apple, there are literally thousands and thousands of remarkable, awesome sadhus, who possess profound wisdom and passion with dedicated purpose, pursuing knowledge and truth in solitude. I want to be inspired, awed by their siddhis, their history of giving lives for freedom struggle, their meager living, their philosophies, their stories of their gurus. Trust me, I am not claiming above understanding of sadhus from thin air. My perspective comes from personal encounters with few sadhus across India over the past two years. (Please refer to the photos and the messages of some of those Sadhus below.)

I already know! I will be moved by the faith of the masses, free of caste, gender and other biases. Oh yes, I will watch and “feel” million individual people. Their joy will be infectious. Their wisdom will humble my stupid ego. Hopefully, I will learn! I will surrender!

I know that I will go berserk! I will take 5,000 photos, try not to sleep as much as I can to soak in this crazy place! Wooohooo, I am incredibly excited!

Happy Christmas on the eve of a spiritual time here in the USA!

– Nitin Anturkar (24^th December, 2024)

(1) “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind”, Yuval Noah Harari (2015)

Professor (?) Ma Bhaktipriya in the Gangotri temple. Her message was simple. “Find eternal happiness.” She stays a couple of miles up in the cave throughout the year including winter, when even Ganga deity from Gangotri temple moves to lower hills. She spoke to us in fluent English. Her face had a glow that blew our mind. (October, 2023)

Unknown sadhu in Pandav Cave near Gangotri. His desire was to have an empty mind for ten seconds and then he will be ready to take samadhi! But he himself said, “Any desire is not good. This one will prevent me to emptying my mind.” (October, 2023)

Swami Samanand Giri in Maheshwar, Central India on the banks of Narmada river, who is also an electrical engineer by academic background. He told us, “Go to the nature. Talk to the trees.. alone.” He hugged me for walking on the Appalachian Trail few years ago. (November, 2023)

We met this sadhu in a small ally of Varanasi at a street coffee stall. We invited her while she was walking by and she gladly agreed. She is from Austria and has spent last 25 years in Varanasi. She is associated with Juna Akhada (Old Tradition). (November, 2023)

Fireyogi swami Rambhau is a siddhyogi, known for his ability to stay in live fire for a long time. He is a descendent of a 16th century saint, Samartha Ramdas Swamy from Maharashtra. His ancestors reached Thanjavur from Maharashtra when Sardar Ekojirao Bhosale started managing this area for the regional sultanate. He is fluent in English, Tamil, Hindi and Marathi, worships Lord Ganapati, and follows Tantric tradition (not Vedic tradition). I told him that my father is also called Rambhau. Then he asked me about where I am from. When I said that I am from Maharashtra, he spoke in Marathi and told me that “There is no God who is above one’s parents. Just worship your parents. It is like worshipping Gods.”

Chaitanya is based in Krupalu Maharaj Ashram at Mangadh, North India, and is a brother of our close friend. He is from my college (IIT-Bombay) and PhD. in engineering. Even without saffron color robe, he is as much a sadhu as anybody else. He has dedicated his life to sadhana and Radha-Krishna bhakti (devotion). (October, 2023)

Please review the list of ten prominent sadhus from my college (Indian Institute of Technology-Bombay).

https://www.indiatoday.in/visualstories/education/iit-to-inner-peace-10-iitians-who-became-monks-83380-20-12-2023

For additional context, I recommend this one-hour documentary on Kumbh. While somewhat romanticized, it provides a good overview.

When I heard the news of Mr. Tata’s passing, I was shocked. His presence in the world was my own selfish necessity. Souls like his give comfort to ordinary people like me, reassuring us that goodwill exists. He was the flag-bearer of goodwill. I wanted his physical presence—not just his memories, work, philanthropy, humanitarian efforts, or business acumen—I craved his tangible existence. I longed for his physical presence, but now he is gone.

When my wife was gone to office, in solitude, I was tearful. Hundreds of stories kept pouring in. They overwhelmed me.  I had just finished reading of Dnyaneshwari (ज्ञानेश्वरी). It said, “Let there be a rows and rows of good people in the world.” (ईश्वरनिष्ठांची मांदीयाळी ). But Mr. Tata was the leader of these good people. I longed for his physical presence, but now he is gone.

I was lucky. I was hired by my boss and the Tata group at Tata AutoComp. I was lucky that I met him at the board meetings every three months. He even visited my office and had lunch with me and my boss. Maybe it was an assurance from the almighty that Mr. Tata would be around. Therefore, I was OK to be lucky. I will cherish those memories. But that was not my preference. I longed for his physical presence, but now he is gone.

I guess I am nobody! Just like billions of others, I am nobody! I am not lucky enough! Om Shanti!

I was very very emotional yesterday at Hrishikesh. I touched Ganga for the first time. I drank it by taking a few drops in my hand, and while in the boat, I poured it on my head with both hands.

We are steeped in the symbolism. Lord Ganesh’ broken tusk, General Motor’s corporate logo, “Hail to the victor’s” song of the University of Michigan, national anthem while waving national flag that I experienced just yesterday after Ganga aarti at the banks of Ganga and so on. There is no end to symbolism since ancient civilizations. I suspect that in most cases, we need symbols for non physical entities that we created or imagined, such as religions, corporations, nations, thoughts, principles, spirituality, values and many more (1).

So why was I emotional when I touched Ganga? Because Indian civilization thrived on the banks of Ganga, and hence, Ganga is a symbol of me, my family, parents, ancestors, all books that I have read, all the good and bad thoughts I have had, all the value systems I have been taught, my culture and upbringing, all the food I have tasted, all of my likings and dislikes, all my internal weaknesses and strengths, I can just go on and on. Essentially Ganga is my symbol, your symbol, and if Ganga represents rivers and their civilizations all over the world, then it is a symbol of everybody in the world.

What can I say? Finally, I met mother Ganga. She hugged me and she was happy to receive a couple of tears from her son.

(1) “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind”, Yuval Noah Harari (2015)

Nitin Dadhi Anturkar (October 2023)

There was a discussion on the National Education Policy (2020) in India on our college (The Indian Institute of Technology, Bombay, called IIT in this article) batchmates’ WhatsApp group. As per this policy, local Indian language as the medium of instruction is mandatory until 5th grade, while English language as a subject can be continued in the schools. The medium of instruction can only be shifted to English at that point, if desired. (That is how we all understood this policy). Debate continued among my college mates about the merits and demerits of such a policy. However, I am writing it here because one of the friends wrote his personal story, and I responded with my story. They are described below (with my friend’s permission, of course). 

If you are not from India, you may need to know the following two things before reading below: (1) There are multitude of Indian language, not dialects, with their own scripts, grammar and words, and (2) similar to many countries, there is multi-layered privileges in the Indian education system. One such privilege, at least in India, is the medium of instruction in which you are taught various subjects.

—————————————–

Friend 1: 

As a Gujju (a colloquial slang word for a Gujarati person) born in Hyderabad, the first language I was taught is Hindi (Hyderabadi flavor). That’s because back then, our interaction was mainly with ayahs, maids, neighbor kids and nursery classmates. And we continued this tradition with our kids and grandkids too. The only Gujju I spoke was with my grand mom.

But I was sent to the elite HPS (Hyderabad Public School) where even the dining hall bearers and school bus drivers spoke in English. My days at school convinced me that in order to excel in physics, chemistry and other science subjects, and get admission into engineering college, English was the only language that could do it for me.

When I came to IIT, I experienced some kind of a cultural shock…. So many guys from the vernacular medium…(students whose medium of instruction was the local Indian language). How did they write the formula for Copper Sulphate in Marathi? How did they know about differentiation and integration? About sp3 hybridization and bond orbital formation?

To my pleasant surprise, I found these guys from the vernacular medium to be some of the most brilliant minds that I’ve ever met and the net result was that I would often seek their help in clearing my doubts. (on the few occasions that I tried to study seriously)

And sometime during our second year, I read one article by Mahatma Gandhi published in Young India where he denounces the English language (and ironically, the denouncement was in English) and mentions the example of Japs succeeding in technology and electronics without the use of English. And that led me to think that yes… Come to think of it… The Japs, the Russians, the Germans, the Chinese… All have done well in managing economies, spacecraft, science and technology without needing the English language.

And finally, I came to the conclusion (and still believe) that the primacy of English language in India is a curse which has created an inequitable elite and now, we’re too deeply trapped in it to be able to overcome its necessity.

BTW, these cross-cultural linguistic influences have led me to know English, Hindi (Dakhani), Hindi (normal… Textbook type), Gujarati and Telugu… In this order. But sadly, I cannot claim proficiency in any of these languages. 😞

——————————————————

Nitin (Dadhi): 

OK, my story is exactly opposite of yours. 

At the end of 10th grade, for the first time ever, my teacher showed up at my home. Suddenly, my home turned into a high-stress chamber. She told my parents that “Nitin is good in science and math, but he can not survive with a score of 46/100 in English in his life. His future is in trouble.” My parents had never gone to college and were barely conversant with the English language. But they had started one of the successful schools in Dombivali, my hometown (call it a paradox, irony or whatever English word you want to use!) and had great contacts all over our town. I was promptly connected to the Professor of English, Professor Gadgil, from the SIES college. On a side note, the Head of the Department of the English language at that time in the SIES college was the most influential Marathi poet, Vinda Karandikar, who won the prestigious Dnyanapith award, not in English, but in Marathi. Professor Gadgil offered to review my two essays per week, and asked me to start reading English books, such as Enid Blyton. Believe it or not, even in the 11th grade, I could not figure out the head or tail of such elementary story books. Over time, I developed an all-crucial skill of survival by securing passing grades with 37/100 in First Year and 39/100 in Second Year English at the SIES college before heading to the engineering college. It may appear to be a “proud” story of struggle and survival. But trust me, this was and still is a pretty embarrassing story of my struggle of learning English (and missing out on some incredible novels and poetry in this language). 

Back in Dombivali, we were told that rich students with a fancy English accent are typically ignorant students (maybe to mitigate the inferiority complex of vernacular students). When I entered IIT, it was a shock! Here, I could not believe all these brilliant students, deep diving into Asimov’s Sci-Fi literature, narrating stories from R K Narayan’s books and fluently quoting Khushwant Singh, then editor of the “Illustrated Weekly” magazine. Obviously, it did not help me to overcome my inferiority complex! It was a long long climb out of the ditch! And then finally being able to introduce my father proudly to the friends as a “daily wage earning kamgar (blue-collar worker)”. 

Here are the two associated anecdotal stories!

After the first semester, I realized that I got an “A” grade in MA101 (the subject in which the class did not do well). I came back to the Hostel 5 dining hall and screamed in the usual IITian lingo, “बना दे! (super work!)”. The friend sitting next to me said, “Nitin, I did not expect it, man!”. Even in my overwhelming emotions of jubilation, I still noticed this comment. I asked “ahh, why?” He said, “Nitin, your English is not that good!” Yes, there are many apparent contradictions in his comment. But the real story is that I ACCEPTED his statement as a matter of fact at that time without noticing the contradictions !!

Next story happened in the USA. Mike and Betsy and their children are our family from another continent. When my mom was visiting them here in the USA, she was embarrassed that she did not know English to converse with them. When she mentioned it to Mike in her broken English, he said in his usual humble manner, “Your English is better than my Marathi.” I neither had this perspective of my Marathi vs English, nor was it drilled in my head by anybody during my formative years.

One clarification! When I read my story again, one thing does not come out explicitly. So let me write it down. My inferiority complex was self-inflicted. If at all, my fellow friends pulled me out of it in IIT. I cannot thank them enough!

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Friend: 

Opposite story… True. But the end result is the same I think. Both of us learnt that there is merit in vernacular and that English creates an unnecessary class divide

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Friend 2:

A few months back I watched the movie ‘Hindi Medium’ that playfully highlights the challenges of securing admissions in prestigious schools in India and the extent to which parents will go to give their kids a good start in life. The words ‘Hindi Medium’ strike a chord in my heart. My earliest memories are of a small village in the faraway district of Palamu in Bihar (Jharkhand today). The village had only one school operated by the Company for all children in the colony & the adjoining villages. Naturally Hindi was the medium of teaching. So off I went learning in Hindi. In my third grade my father was transferred to the city of Porbandar at the other end of the country and the choices of learning were between English and Gujarati. Strange as it may sound today, until then I did not know a word of English! For the two weeks we took getting there including a stopover to see my grandparents, my mother taught me English using a pen and paper. I had never read the language in print. When the school Head Master asked me to try reading a few words, I stumbled at the first – dog! The ‘d’ and ‘o’ I understood but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what a letter with two circles connected by a line was! My test had ended on the first word with a big failure! The Head Master was Oxford educated and made a gentle but futile attempt to persuade my father to start me off from grade 1 all over. My father was having none of the arguments about the psychological damage that pushing me to learn in a totally strange language could do. I must have done pretty well in the first set of tests a month or so later. I recall it moved the Head Master to come bounding into our class and congratulate me while berating the rest about how a student had come in from so far behind to score better than them!

Although I completed the rest of my education in English, I never could say my multiplication tables in the language. Much to the consternation of my teachers I would generally do well in Math but flunk the orals when asked to recite ‘Two Threes Are’.  It was always ‘Doe Tiya Chhe’ in my mind!

Midway through the year, we found ourselves deep in the heartland of Tamil Nadu (Madras state as it was called then). Even though I went to an English medium school, my struggle had not ended as the teachers wrote in cursive script and I would sit in class with a blank look on my face. Once again it fell to my mother to bring me up to speed in the new script.

Fast forward thirty odd years – when our son was born my wife and I decided we would start him off in Marathi. We knew eventually he would speak English and worried if he did not know Marathi during his early years he would never eventually learn his mother tongue. We were living in the upscale Mumbai neighborhood of Pali Hill then. When it was time to get admission to school, the teacher was dismayed and asked me how my son could join the school since he did not know a word of English. Gently I asked her, ‘Madam, if I teach him English are you going to teach him Marathi?’. That is where it ended. By Grade Eight my son’s English Teacher was reading his essays out to the graduating high schoolers.

In our family my wife is another example. Today she converses pretty decently in English. Her friends and many acquaintances have been surprised to learn that she has done all her education in Marathi and started to speak English only after we were married and moved to Gujarat, later Mumbai and thereafter outside India where she was compelled to speak in English.

My take away from these experiences is that the human brain has a humongous capacity to learn new things especially languages. Never underestimate your capabilities and especially those of children. I am somewhat dismayed when I see parents avoiding teaching their children their mother tongues for fear of ‘confusing’ or ‘overburdening’ the child. I feel like narrating my experience and that of our family. If we could do it so can you!

English language fluency is a strength that India definitely has. It is important to know the language well for people aspiring to make a mark in the world. However, knowing your mother tongue gives you the appreciation of your culture. Those roots are critical foundation to sculpt a strong edifice of one’s life.

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Nitin (Dadhi) Anturkar (December 2023)