The Call of the Sangam, Mahakumbh 2025 - A journey that was destined! Chapter 2: The Prelude

Short Stay in Jaipur, Makar Sankranti - The Prelude to Kumbh Mela

My flight touched down in New Delhi around 2 PM on January 11th. A pre-booked taxi awaited me for the five-hour journey to Jaipur. What should have been a straightforward drive turned into a test of patience and nerves as we navigated through thick, unrelenting fog. The driver was seasoned and guided us safely although the visibility as low as 50 meters in some stretches. We finally pulled into my home around 9 PM, where Mumma and Papa greeted me with warm embraces and a light dinner that felt like comfort itself.

There was something quietly symbolic about this trip. For the first time in twelve years of owning my trusty rucksack, I was traveling internationally with just that—no suitcase, no excess baggage. This was backpacking in its truest form, and I found myself appreciating the ruggedness and freedom it offered. It felt fitting for a journey that would soon take me to the sacred confluence of the Sangam.

The next day (12th Jan) unfolded and surprisingly there was no jet-lag. Honestly, I had no time to waste.  Errands at the bank, conversations with family, familiar greetings from neighbors completed the first half of the day. Lunch was a special treat—Undhiya, a traditional Gujarati delicacy lovingly prepared by Mumma. In the afternoon, I made the mandatory visit to my in-laws in Bapu Nagar, for their their blessings and warmth before heading back.

On the morning of the 13th, Papa and I ventured to Chaura Rasta, one of Jaipur's bustling markets, to purchase a Jaipuri Razai (quilt) to be sent to my sister. 

That evening was Lohri, the North Indian festival celebrating the winter harvest. Our dear neighbor, Babban Bhaiya, joined us to light a bonfire in our courtyard. It wasn't a grand affair, but it was deeply heartfelt. The crackling flames, the warmth against the January chill, and the spirit of togetherness made it memorable. The evening culminated in a sumptuous feast of Makki ki Roti and Sarson ka Saag with Meethe Chawal—rustic, earthy, and deeply satisfying. Earlier in the day, another thoughtful neighbor (Veenu Bhabhi) had sent over snacks, including my absolute favorite: chane aur gurr ki patti (roasted gram and jaggery brittle). She never forgets.

As the night deepened, Papa and I sat together preparing our kites for the next morning. The anticipation was palpable. Makar Sankranti—the festival of kites, the festival that marks the sun's journey northward—was upon us.

                    

Makar Sankranti: Flying High with Papa

The morning of January 14th dawned clear and crisp. I woke with the kind of excitement I hadn't felt in years. Kite flying in Jaipur is no casual pastime; it's a competitive, passionate affair. The skies become a battlefield, strings slicing through the air, kites tumbling in defeat, and victors soaring higher.

I hadn't flown kites since 2017, but muscle memory kicked in instantly. By my fourth kite, I had already claimed 12 kills—a strong start that filled me with quiet pride. The kill score of theday plateaued slightly after that, with each subsequent kite averaging around three to four kills. But the thrill never dimmed.

Around 11 AM, Papa joined me on the terrace, arriving with a platter piled high with Daal ki Pakodi (lentil fritters)—crispy, piping hot, and utterly irresistible. His start was a bit shaky, but he soon found his rhythm. Still, it was mostly me handling the kites while he cheered, strategized, and occasionally took over.

Post-lunch, my uncle 'Daddu Mama' arrived, adding to the lively atmosphere. But the highlight came just as dusk began to settle. I was flying the penultimate kite of the day, and it was unstoppable—27 kills. The terrace erupted in cheers. As darkness fell and customary fireworks began to light up the Jaipur sky, we called it a day. The spectacle was breathtaking—bursts of color against the violet twilight, echoing the joy and energy of the festival.

                  

Amidst the revelry, I couldn't help but notice something deeply moving. Scattered across the city were numerous bird rescue centers, entirely volunteer-run. During Sankranti, kite strings often injure birds in flight, and these compassionate souls dedicate themselves to rescuing and treating them. A local newspaper reported an estimated 4,000 such centers operating around Jaipur that day. It was a beautiful reminder of humanity's capacity for care, even in the midst of celebration.

The Final Day: Blessings and Farewells

The morning of January 15th—our wedding anniversary—began with an attempt to visit the Govind Devji Temple, a sacred site deeply revered in Jaipur. Unfortunately, we missed the darshan window by just a couple of minutes. Disappointed but undeterred, I spent the afternoon back at my in-laws' home, seeking their blessings and bidding them a heartfelt adieu.

The evening was quiet and reflective. I sat with my parents, chatting about everything and nothing, savoring these last precious hours. As I packed trusty my rucksack for Prayagraj the next morning, I felt the pull of two worlds: the warmth of home and the call of the Sangam. The prelude was complete. The pilgrimage was about to begin.

Train to Prayagraj: Meeting Baba and the Army Mess

On the afternoon of January 16th, I hailed an auto-rickshaw to Gandhi Nagar station to board my train to Subedarganj in Prayagraj. As I settled into my seat, a delightful realization dawned on me—this would be my very first First Class AC experience on Indian Railways. After years of traveling by train across India, somehow this luxury had always eluded me. The universe, it seemed, was aligning everything perfectly for this pilgrimage.

Better still, I had the coupe entirely to myself until Aligarh. The solitude was welcome. I watched the landscape shift outside my window—the familiar plains of Rajasthan giving way to the heartland of Uttar Pradesh—and felt the journey deepen with every passing kilometer. This wasn't just a train ride; it was a transition from the warmth of home to the sacred unknown.

The train ran slightly behind schedule, but there was no anxiety. Baba had already reached Prayagraj on time and was comfortably settled at the Officer's Mess, well ahead of my arrival. By 8 AM on the 17th, I stepped off the platform and made my way to Trishakti Cove Officer's Mess in Prayagraj Cantonment.

The reunion with Baba was effortless. We had both managed to catch up on sleep during our respective journeys, and the energy was high. After a quick shower and change of clothes, we headed to the dining hall for breakfast.

What greeted us was the quintessential military hospitality. The duty JCO (Junior Commissioned Officer) served us with precision and pride—piping hot Aloo Paranthas, perfectly crisped on the edges, accompanied by steaming chai. And, of course, a crisp salute. It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of respect, discipline, and camaraderie that defines the armed forces.

We ate heartily, fueled by anticipation. Day 1 of the Kumbh Mela awaited us—and little did I know, it would be the day my fitness band would go absolutely bonkers counting the steps walked....

The Call of the Sangam, Mahakumbh 2025 - A journey that was destined! Chapter 1

For many who grew up in India, particularly in Hindu families, the concept of pilgrimage is woven into the fabric of our identity. We hear stories of sacred journeys from a young age—to the Char Dham, the 12 Jyotirlingas, or the powerful Shaktipeeths. But among all these, the Kumbh Mela holds a unique place. It’s more than a pilgrimage; it’s a spiritual phenomenon. We know it through headlines: the world’s largest gathering of people, a spectacle visible from space, a confluence of sadhus from ancient akharas. Yet, for me, it remained a distant legend—until it became a personal calling.

The Seed of an Idea

My first conscious awareness of the Kumbh Mela’s pull came in 2013, during the Maha Kumbh at Prayagraj (then Allahabad). As a 28-year-old, I felt a spark—a pure, quiet intuition that I would attend a Kumbh one day. The "when" and "where" were unclear, and the impulse wasn't strong enough to act upon immediately. Through subsequent editions in Nashik, Ujjain, and Haridwar, the feeling lingered, a gentle but persistent idea at the back of my mind.

Working in the tourism industry, I’m conditioned to track major global events, assessing their impact on travel. So, when I noted the dates for the 2025 Maha Kumbh Mela in early 2024, that dormant spark was ignited. This wasn't just another event on a calendar; it was a deadline for a dream. I knew, with sudden clarity, that I had to be there. I was randomly asking my acquaintances in Vancouver, if they know about the Maha Kumbh and if anyone is thinking of attending it. 

The Practical Dilemmas

However, reality quickly introduced its complications. I was already planning a trip to India in May 2024 for my son’s Mundan ceremony. A second trip within eight months, especially during a peak event like the Kumbh, is a significant financial undertaking. Flights and accommodation prices soar, making it a substantial investment.

Yet, the timing was also deeply alluring. The Maha Kumbh was scheduled from Makar Sankranti (January 14th) to Mahashivratri (February 26th). This meant I could potentially celebrate the kite-flying festival in my hometown of Jaipur with my father—a cherished annual tradition—before journeying to the Kumbh. The thought was incredibly powerful, a chance to weave together familial joy and spiritual quest. Little did I know it would be our last kite festival together.

Just as I was reconciling the costs, a second family commitment arose. My sister was planning her son’s Mundan ceremony for 2025. After much coordination, the date was set for March. My heart sank. Traveling to India twice in two months was simply not feasible. With a heavy heart, I accepted that the Kumbh was not destined for me in 2025. I let the dream go.

The Rekindling Flame

Couple of months later, in early October, during a birthday conversation with my childhood friend, Baba, I shared my disappointment. To my surprise, he was immediately captivated by the idea. "If you decide to go," he said, "I'm in."

His enthusiasm was contagious. I revisited the idea with my wife, and with renewed hope, I reached out to a friend in the Indian Army. I recalled the serene Allahabad Cantonment from my past SSB visit and wondered, almost impossibly, if accommodation might be found there. To my astonishment, the answer was a tentative "yes." They just needed dates.

The plan crystallized instantly: celebrate Makar Sankranti with my family in Jaipur, then take a train to Prayagraj with Baba for a three-day immersion in the Kumbh Mela.

From Dream to Reality: The Execution

What followed was a whirlwind of divine coordination. I called Baba with the tentative dates of January 17th-19th. His answer was an instant, unwavering "Yes."

The logistical pieces fell into place with surprising ease. I secured our train tickets from Jaipur to Prayagraj and back to Delhi, booked my international flight from Vancouver, and, most miraculously, received final confirmation from the Officer’s Mess in Allahabad Cantt. Within a week, a dream that had flickered for over a decade was suddenly, tangibly real—a testament to both meticulous planning and the incredible camaraderie of 111-Nirantars and of the uniformed forces.

My journey to the Kumbh was no longer a distant legend. It was an itinerary, a promise, and a pilgrimage finally coming to life.

Pre-preps and the itinerary

Although everything was falling into place very quickly, it was still 2 months for me to leave for India. A lot of preparation had to go into how my work will be handled and how the household responsibilities will be taken care of back in Canada. All kudos to my boss- Santosh for being most accommodative. He was aware that I am travelling again to India in March and yet he approved this leave knowing how dearly I wanted to be at the Kumbh Mela. 

My friends in the army, shared numbers of the mess JCO and NCO who spoke to me with utmost respect, knowing that their CO (super boss) is my course-mate from the NDA.

Baba was moving a bit slowly thought. Eventually, by early December his tickets were booked too. He was flying from Hyderabad to Lucknow and then taking a train to Prayagraj. Baba's train was due to reach at 4 Am and mine at 6 Am on the 17th of Jan. I mean what an immaculate plan! 

My flight to India was booked for the 10th of Jan arriving in New Delhi on the afternoon of 11th. I was to spend 11th to 16th Jan in Jaipur with my parents and take a train to Prayagraj on the afternoon of 16th, thereby taking a train to New Delhi on the evening of 19th. 

All this was happening between 15th Nov and 20th Dec 2024. I was doing a side gig at my friend Ankur's pet food business to fund some part of my last minute trip to India. I used the festive deals to upgrade my phone, so that I can get the best shots from a phone camera whilst avoiding the need to carry a larger one. I thought a bit ahead and purchased two waterproof and airtight phone pouches. This product certainly made my life easier when I took a holy dip in the Sangam. 

The day of travel was nearing and while that was to happen my little one was to join his new daycare. We were concerned that, him being just a 3 year old might take a little more time to adjust to the new place and my timing of travel to India might be a hinderance to this. I really appreciate my wife who lived up to the occasion to let me travel worry free for something that comes once in every 144 years. Yes, this was the exact time, when the news buzz picked up around the Kumbh Mela talking about its significance. I had known this fact for almost a year now, but this was now getting mainstream and picking up steam. More people were searching about the Mela and I was feeling really proud about confirmed train tickets, confirmed officer's mess accommodation and a chance to fly kites with my father. 

Story continues in the following chapters....