One among over 600 million dips at the Triveni—was mine any different? Was it an experience beyond words, or merely a fleeting moment lost in the tide of countless others?
A holy dip in the Triveni defies expression. It is at once exhilarating and exasperating, fulfilling and frustrating, invigorating and intimidating. And yet, something sets it apart—something beyond the mere act of immersion. As the icy waters embrace you, sending a shiver that cuts through flesh and bone, the shock is immediate, almost brutal. But in the very next breath, a paradox unfolds. A strange serenity takes hold. An unearthly warmth seeps through the cold, and a lightness—unfathomable, weightless—begins to course through your being.
For a moment, you are neither body nor thought, but something in between—a traveller between the tangible and the divine. The waters do more than cleanse; they unburden. As you emerge, the sins of a lifetime seem to slip away, dissolving effortlessly into the sacred confluence. And in that fleeting instant, something shifts. Something beyond words, beyond reason.
If Varanasi could be described as divine chaos, then Prayagraj during the Maha Kumbh must be a cosmic confusion- a confluence, a celestial theatre of faith where millions converge in an unprecedented human spectacle. To witness and partake in this grandest of gatherings is to step into an ocean of devotion, where the tide of humanity moves with singular purpose, driven by faith, tradition, and an inexplicable yearning for transcendence.
The experience of reaching Maha Kumbh and have a holy dip in the Triveni, or for that matter, on any one of the ghats, is difficult to describe in words. It is both exhilarating and exasperating, fulfilling and frustrating, invigorating and intimidating. But one thing is sure, after the dip in the cold waters, one feels a strange serenity and a unique and inexplicable surge of energy.
Millions trudge towards this sacred destination day and night, relentless in their pursuit, unwavering in their faith. They do not complain or crib, nor do they bemoan their hardships. Instead, they submit themselves willfully and happily to the discomforts and inconveniences, as though these very hardships are a part of their spiritual journey. The sheer magnitude of human endurance on display is awe-inspiring. The discomforts are immense—long walks, crushing crowds, biting cold, and endless queues—but they are borne with a smile and an inner calm that is deeply reflective of the Sanatan tenet: to endure pain and hardship as intrinsic to life’s journey.
This ocean of humanity is a microcosm of India itself. The highest and the lowliest come to bathe, the richest and the poorest, the mightiest and the weakest, the most powerful and the powerless. Villagers and city-dwellers, the educated and the illiterate, men, women, and children—all converge at the same destination, bound by a singular purpose. Celebrities and commoners alike descend upon these sacred waters, shedding their worldly distinctions in a moment of shared sanctity. Here, at the Maha Kumbh, every individual is equal before the divine, immersed in the same sacred waters, seeking the same spiritual transcendence.
The mission of taking a dip is a project involving several hours on the date of execution, and several days or even weeks to prepare for this odyssey. And the challenges are many and intractable. One’s faith is put to gruelling test. A crowd that is as dense and as packed as the space will permit, a long and tiring walk to the banks of the rivers, infinite patience to negotiate this journey, and the inner strength to plunge into the cold waters, whether at Sangam nose, or at any of the many other ghats designated for bathing.
But one thing is certain. When indeed, you immerse yourself in the flowing waters of the Triveni, and when the cold waters touch your body, and eventually envelope you, the feeling is magical. The embrace of the water first chills you to the bone, sending a shiver down your spine, and then, in a paradox almost divine, fills you with an inexplicable warmth and lightness. The sensation is both shockingly physical and profoundly spiritual. A moment ago, you were shivering in the biting air; now, you are weightless, cradled in an element that seems to wash away not just the fatigue of the journey but also the burdens of the soul. The rejuvenation is instant and dramatic.
This is a feeling which is universally experienced by each one of the devotees. Whether it is the magic of faith and devotion, or whether it is the play of elements, or whether it is a divine impulse and sensation, it is difficult to say. But it is transformative, catapulting one to a never-before experienced realm of bliss and peace.
Many decades ago, standing and waiting to have Darshan of Lord Pashupatinath in Kathmandu, a fellow devotee, finding that I was a little fidgety, offered a very comforting advice. ‘Illat, Zillat, and Killat, are the three eventualities that you must be ready to encounter and accept ungrudgingly, when you come to the abode of God. Illatis botheration, standing in a queue, waiting patiently; Zillat implies humiliation, humiliation of being restrained, being spoken to rudely, disregarding your status and station in life; and Killat means the feeling of poverty and want, because you may be wanting to do more than what your financial condition permits you to do. If you are ready to happily endure these three conditions, you should come to the God, or else remain at home.’
The millions and millions who are visiting Maha Kumbh every day facing immense hardship and discomfort are able to do so perhaps because they are indeed practicing the advice long ago given to me.
What does this experience of having a holy dip at Maha Kumbh leave us with? It is immensely fortifying and extraordinarily nurturing. It soothes our souls and strengthens our corporal state. It is distressing and disorienting, but it also gives us the euphoric feeling of being able to control and conquer our mundane frailties. It leaves us with a quiet confidence, a realization of our own resilience, of our ability to negotiate life’s journey with patience and perseverance. The sacred waters do not merely cleanse the body; they awaken something deep within. They offer a moment of clarity, a fleeting glimpse of the infinite, an echo of something ancient and eternal.
If there are spiritual spin-offs, which are substantial, they are the icing on the cake—the blissful resolution of strengthening the good and the pious, reinforcing the fledgling sentiment of looking beyond self, embracing the sublime feeling of service and empathy for the world at large. It is in this transient moment of immersion that one feels liberated, no longer just an individual but a part of something boundless.
The Maha Kumbh is not just a festival; it is a phenomenon. It is a moment when the earth trembles under the weight of devotion, when the rivers themselves seem to swell in anticipation, when time bends to accommodate the timeless. And in that fleeting moment, as one emerges from the sacred waters, the sin and self-doubt painlessly dripping down one’s body, there is but one realization—something ineffable has shifted within, something eternal has been touched.
The Maha Kumbh, in its grand and cosmic scale, is not merely an event but a revelation. And the holy dip is that magical moment that manifests this consciousness—one that humbles, uplifts, and transforms.
*The writer is a former Secretary, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India. He also served on the Central Administrative Tribunal and as Secretary General of ASSOCHAM.
(By arrangement with Perspective Bytes)
