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POSTCARD FROM | CABANA TRAVEL | WORLD OF CABANA
Although writer and editor Noni Ware has always thrived on the constant ebb and flow of crowded cities, little could have prepared her for Kumbh Mela, where the scale, volume and movement of people is so huge that it becomes hard to tether the figures to reality. Noni shares with Cabana an exclusive postcard from the largest human gathering in the world.
BY NONI WARE | CABANA TRAVEL | 9 MAY 2025
I grew up in a small village in Dorset, with a population of approximately 900. Every three weeks the population increased by one, when Dennis the local travelling man arrived in the village to stop at various houses collecting candles, home-made sandwiches and soup. For Dennis, a life spent living in one of the sparsely populated villages that made up the Bride Valley was inconceivable - too many people in one place for him.
I, on the other hand, left the village as soon as I could, heading for London and then Hong Kong, seeking out places where I could be swept into crowds, into other people’s lives and to feel as if mine had finally begun. It is important to set this scene, a brief background to a life that has embraced densely populated pavements and thrived on the constant ebb and flow of crowded cities. But for this journey, to Kumbh Mela, the largest human gathering in the world there can be no preparation; the scale, volume and movement of people is so huge that it becomes hard to tether the figures to reality.
We arrived on the back of mopeds, three journalists travelling with The Explorations Company and the Uttar Pradesh Tourist Board. The 40-minute journey from the town to the banks of the River Ganges felt, I thought, like taking part in a video game controlled by a sugar fuelled eight year old child: avoid the cows, swerve the brightly painted ‘Jingle trucks’, side-step the hand-pulled fruit carts and keep looking straight ahead. We joined the flow, all heading in the same direction towards a long metal bridge crossing the immense river. A triumphant, noisy cavalcade to herald the beginning of our immersion into one of the largest human gatherings on the planet.
Kumbh Mela is a Hindu festival, normally celebrated every six and 12 years. But 2025 was the year the stars were aligned, as well as most of the planets; Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and the Moon each playing a role in this astrological symphony. Their energies combined to create a potent and collective spiritual awakening. It was, in part, this astrological occurrence that accounted for the sheer number of people who decided to make the pilgrimage to Kumbh Mela. Between January 13 and February 26, over 44 days, 660 million people took part in the greatest voluntary migration on the planet.
Arriving from every state across India, on foot, by plane, in cars, trucks and motorbikes people arrived day in day out and throughout the night. They crossed the 30 bridges constructed for the festival and arrived at the Triveni Sangam on the River Ganges to wash in its waters. To dissect these figures, to tether you back to reality, this is almost twice the population of the USA, and more than the population of all the countries in Europe combined. The magnitude of this migration is almost unfathomable.
There are four holy sites for Kumbh Mela (or ‘The Festival of the Sacred Pitcher’), Haridwar, Nashik, Ujjain and Prayagraj. Prayagraj in Uttar Pradesh is considered to be the most sacred, where the Ganges, the Yamuna and the mythical (unseen) Saraswati rivers converge, and it is only here that the Maha Kumbh Mela (the great Kumbh Festival) takes place, a once-in-several-generations moment, every 144 years. Our arrival also coincided with one of the most important dates at Kumbh, 26 February, the Maha Shivratri Festival, which celebrates the divine union of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Over 15 million people arrived to bathe on this day alone.
We swept along with them, deposited on the banks of the River by our moped drivers and left standing in our dusty clothes. In front of us was the Ganges, small areas partitioned off into ‘ghats’ where the bathing takes place. In the river, on the river and by the banks were people, hundreds of thousands of people, pinpricks of color; yellow, pink, emerald green, set against the backdrop of the wide grey expanse of water. Across from us, on the other side of the Ganges we could see floodlights, blindingly bright, guiding the pilgrims to the River on the path to enlightenment.
The greatest congregation of people gathered by the battered wooden boats that had come to ferry people to the sacred spot where the three rivers met. Fishermen in India do not make much money, it was for them a time to reap the spiritual rewards of a once in 144-year occasion. We were happy to pay the price, as onlookers rather than bathers. We joined the floating city of boats, centred at the converging rivers, and watched as the Ganges swept the ‘sins’ of its people downstream. All the while, the sacred Saraswati River flows silently below the wooden prows of thousands of boats.
On dry land as dusk fell, the relative silence of the river was quickly forgotten. Every 10 yards, loudspeakers alternated between desperate calls to people who had become separated from families, to prayers and music, all transmitted at maximum volume. This was a 10,000 acre site (hence the loudspeakers and lost people) with over 6000 religious and cultural organisations setting up tents where spiritual gurus and Akharas greet their followers. There are 13 Major Akharas, each headed by a Mahamandaleshwar, a spiritual authority who ensures adherence to Vedic codes. The Naga Sadhus, with their much photographed ash-covered bodies and matted hair reflect devotion to Lord Shiva. Our slightly randomly chosen ‘Guru’, who was surprised to see three Westerners arrive in his tent, looked calmly at us with kind eyes and merely blessed us, a hand atop our heads and a Prasad in the form of a sugared piece of pineapple.
We walked past blankets laid out with families who had spent the full month at Kumbh Mela, their pots and cooking utensils neatly delineating their tiny plot. Stalls selling long wooden beads, pyramids of orange carnations and mounds of bright spices were set up every few yards, while the smell of Indian snacks, oily and spicy, was irresistible. There was no choice but to keep moving, absorbed into a mass of people who were celebrating life, carried along by the joyous celebration of a moment to wash away the bad bits.
I spent only two days at Kumbh Mela, a night spent in a tent listening to the music and chanting, the continuous beeping of motorbikes. But during those two days and the weeks that followed I began to understand why - despite the overwhelming amount of people and chaos, which made any kind of spiritual awakening almost impossible to manifest - I had found Kumbh Mela extraordinarily moving.
It is rare to watch humanity move on such a scale. We are confronted daily with images of people who are forced to flee, from famine, fire and war, running from starvation, illness and death. Flights of fear. But here I was, from a tiny village in Dorset, and I had joined millions of people observing the alignment of stars and planets to converge on the banks of the River Ganges. People had come to seek salvation, bound by a powerful spiritual connection to cleanse souls of negativity and help them attain “Moksha”, freedom from the eternal cycle of life, death and rebirth. It was a once in a lifetime journey and felt, just for a moment, that 660 million people were united and I was, incredibly, a part of it.
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Noni Ware travelled with The Explorations Company.
www.explorationscompany.com
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