We had to abandon our plans of going by train to Prayagraj because we were unsure whether the train would run or be cancelled. And even if it did go o Prayagraj, would we get to the Tent city from the station? Reports from Prayagraj told us about packed streets with people even sleeping on the roads and traffic restrictions prohibiting any kind of vehicular transport to the KUmbh area. This was an attempt to stop the crowds gearing up for the Grand Bath or Shahi Snan on 29th January.

So we left Varanasi as early as possible, though the taxi driver had insisted on going even before dawn. All was well till we came to a railway overbridge at Andawa, from where all traffic was turned back. The taxi driver then put us into an Erickshaw that took us to our camp in Jhusi. It was quite a bumpy road through farms and dirt tracks, trying to get as close to the Akhada where we were staying. Finally, coming to a roadblock around twenty minutes away from our camp, we had no option but to walk. At that moment, I felt like a refugee, walking on a dusty road with my bag rolling behind me, unsure of what exactly lay ahead of us.

S had a cousin who was part of the Tapisviji Purandas Babaji Ashram at Worli. She also knew a Trustee of the organisation, and they invited us to stay with them at their campsite.

The campsite was very basic, with eight of us sleeping in a room. But the beds were comfortable, the food delicious and the people so warm and welcoming that within minutes, we felt as though we had known them all our lives. we were given badges to allow us entry to the Ashram and shown to our room. It was really hot, but we were assured that at night, we’d need thermals to help us sleep. And this was despite the thick comforter we were provided with.

After a hearty breakfast we wandered off to see what we could of the different camps. Unfortunately, no eRickshaws were allowed so we abandoned our plans of visiting the ashrams of The rt of Living and the ISKON.

We met an elephant along the way and fed him bananas receiving his blessing in return.

Back at the ashram, we gobbled down a wholesome meal and prepared to walk to the river for a dip with Babaji. The idol was led in a procession, changing hands with his followers who wanted to carry him. Chanting the mantra of “Sat Kartar Bedo Par”, we had quite a walk before we came to a secluded part of the river bank. One by one, we had our dip, unmindful of the cold water, just concentrating on bobbing down.

People say that your sins are washed when you take a dip in the holy Ganges, particularly at the confluence of the three rivers or Triveni Sangam. Unfortunately, boats to the Sangam were stopped, so we bathed on banks in the waters of the Sangam instead.

I felt exhilarated, energised and content as I dipped three times into the river. Call it my imagination or fancy, but I felt connected to my ancestors, particularly my parents, whom I lost last year. Somehow I felt they were happy that I had gone to the Kumbh. And I felt a lightness in my being

We spent the rest of the day hanging out with the other devotees and other travellers, sharing experiences of their journey to the Kumbh. We attended the evening aarti and enjoyed the peace of the ashram.

Early the next morning, S helped distribute food for the sadhus who came up to the compound. All three of us helped in the kitchen duty sorting out the vegetables, grating bottle gourds and making balls for chapatis. There were over 100 people fed morning and afternoon.

That afternoon, the food was served outside the compound as there was a security alert. Once again, we were advised to leave earlier than our scheduled 4 o’clock departure, so we quickly packed our bags and walked back to the barricade where we had got off. There, we got into our waiting tax and began our onward journey to Ayodhya.

Ciao