After several months, I finally left Delhi on Saturday night for a day long trip to Allahabad to attend Maha Kumbh Mela. The whole journey, without a break, was eventful.
After deciding the mode of transportation, we went to railway station. As expected, all the comfortable seats were sold out. We bought four tickets of the notorious general compartment. General compartment does not have a seating plan; anyone sits anywhere, everyone sits everywhere. Inexperienced, I was excited. At platform, feeding my excitement, the train was filled to doors with passengers. Many doors were forcefully shut to keep from overcrowding. Fortunately, we managed to hop into an almost filled sleeper compartment. Sleeper compartments are meant to provide every occupant a bed to sleep. Many passengers, including us, were extra and thus, illegitimate. Every such passenger got a square foot of space to stand or sit on floor. Unfortunately, the square I was placed in gave me a sneak peek into the backyard toilet through a crack below the basin. I managed to sit in the beginning but as night grew, surroundings began to expand. At one point, I saw a round and short figure wearing a cap and uniform trying to enter our compartment. A giant from fables, he made his way through a floor of bodies, stepping on some, kicking others, tumbling from one side to another in resonance with train. He took tickets from illegal occupants and asked for a hefty fine. Scared, I reached into my pocket to pull out an equivalent amount but few wise men talked him into settling for a bribe, one-third of the penalty. Amount paid; he returned our tickets, stained red from his tobacco-chewing, spit while talking mouth. People settled down, surroundings expanded again, I felt squeezed and had to stand up out of discomfort. Consequently, I spent 6 hours of the ten hour long journey on feet. Similar fate met other members of our group. Overnight, my excitement had transformed into annoyance. We were desperately waiting for Allahabad station.
Pour chewing tobacco from a thin white packet, contained in a transparent zip-lock pouch, on your palm. Add to it a pinch of lime from a tiny plastic bottle, contained in the same pouch. Seal the pouch. Peacefully, rub ingredients on your palm with a firm thumb into a fine mixture. Batter it with soft hand to filter coarse particles. Fill the space between your teeth and lower lip with this mixture. Use your tongue for a flat and even spread and squeeze your lip upward to enjoy the flavor. Among us illegitimate travelers, a large number followed this practice obsessively.
We reached Allahabad Station late in the morning, stretched our bodies and began searching for a comfortable hotel room. Spread out over the bed, I felt my legs breathe and fell unconscious. It was one of the best sleeps I had in recent days. After resting for a couple of hours, we checked out from hotel and started towards the Ganga riverside. On our way, we were offered food, for free, in the form of prasad. Prasad was distributed by three different stalls placed in succession. First stall provided snacks in the form of fried sandwiches with tea; second fed us the main course, that is, aloo poori and last stall had a huge serving plate filled with a pile of jalebis. Healthily walking with the crowd, we continued. Music from bhajans and announcements from Lost and Found booth were the accompanying noises. At one point, we had to ascend a slope and then descend along its opposite side. As we reached the summit, we saw a huge mass of crowd proceeding towards Ganga. The site was overwhelming. Though, in the view, crowd had a daunting density, being a part of it was smooth and easy. We reached the riverside which had turned into a picnic spot. Groups of people spread over their respective cloths; some preparing for the holy dip; some returning drenched and others like me looking at the amazing view, amazed.
From past experiences I have learned that crowded places are breeding grounds for eve-teasing and ensuing skirmishes. Standing there, eying for hotspots, I found none; no angry voices, no brawls, no sudden rush.
Women were changing clothes in makeshift cardboard structures. But no one was interested or were they tempted yet afraid? Were these urges thumbed under for the fear of god? India, in recent times, has gained infamy as a place unsafe for women. Did their faith, then, give domestic women courage to be a part of this crowd and perform rituals with a zeal equivalent to that of men? Most people carried with themselves a plastic bottle filled with dirty/holy river water back home. These superstitions, I believe, are a part of the super structure that religion provides us. For, we do need a common faith to be able to work in unison. Possibly, this is the reason god and religion exist and will continue too.
We went into the water, played for sometime; one of my wise friends performed the rites. It was fun. A mela! A huge congregation of people of all sorts; sideways strewn with hawkers, food tents, relaxation camps; groups of babas smoking chillum (a greedy call from one of my friends to joining the group and smoking a mild chillum that set our laughter rolling); a foreigner photographing a baba with the most swollen eyes; brushing river sand off our wiry hairs; the same friend wanting to digress towards an old fort but tired, we continued on our long way to the bus depot.
Reaching bus depot, we realized the struggle had not ended yet. All buses were flooded; disappointed, we started walking towards the railway station only to find ourselves join a huge rush of people; scared, we turned towards a travel agent who had already doubled its prices. Defeated, we decided to gain strength from a McDonalds outlet. After a couple of hours of rest and nutrition, we set out again and in a flash, found an
empty bus headed to Agra. Merry over freedom from being trapped, we boarded the bus and fell asleep. I woke up after a few hours and perceived the changed surroundings. Smoking a cigarette with this new man, I came to know that the water we bathed in was less holy and the real spot, Prayag at confluence of rivers Ganga and Yamuna, was a boat ride away. Also, the missed opportunity of watching naked saints smeared with ash, holding a sword could be grabbed at the spot. Satisfied still, immersed in night, refreshed by wind against my face, I hummed the songs flowing inside till we reached Agra in morning. Smoothly, we boarded a deluxe bus to Delhi and fell asleep again for the four hour journey.