Kumbh 2025 attracted devotees from all over India. The author muses about the tale of the two 'sangams', the confluence of the rivers as well as of the human spirit and the divine energy.

Creaking hull and splashing oars heralded the commencement of our journey from a materialistic world to a metaphysical one.

A gentle breeze whispered, as if directing our vision to look for the goal.

The Yamuna stream murmured, as if reminding us of the solemn nature of the occasion. The leaves of the Peepal trees at the banks susurrated, as if cheering for our attempt to be part of history.

A horde of sea-gulls overtook our boat at lightning speed and squawked around us as if teasing and competing for the holy dip at Triveni.

The incessant mantra chants at banks kept droning all the way to the Sangam as if invoking Sun Gods to witness and bless auspicious celestial event.

At the crack of dawn, the oarsmen announced our arrival at the much-coveted place in the universe and urged us to disembark and take the holy dip.

Lo and behold! We were in midst of Sangam, the confluence of three most revered rivers, where the riverbed was only few feet deep.

As Sun rays fell upon the misty surface of water, the fog dispelled,revealing the previously obscure confluence more obvious.

The divine ambience was soon interrupted by roaring chants of "Har Har Gange" as thousands of kayaks loaded with devotees reached the holy site. It was as if whole vignette was straight out of some Rajamouli flick.

The plunge of lakhs of men and women into the middle of confluence was strong enough to send ripples to the banks thousands of metres away.

Every dip was deeply embedded in emotions and reverence.

This scene of tranquil devotion, set in a serene river junction with various hues of sun rays and floating earthen lamps over leaves, forms the perfect kaleidoscopic memory to cherish for the rest of one's life.

It was surreal.

It was transcendental.

It was a spiritual Sangam.

Now fast forward to scene at return journey.

There was sense of achievement among us and that was duly rewarded by an elaborate repast and quick power nap before leaving hotel.

Thanks to some extraordinary management by the administration, mainland Prayagraj looked as normal as any other city.

A corridor dedicated for "devotees on foot" who ply from station to ghats and back was kept earmarked.

Hundreds of cabs carrying "privileged pilgrims" from various hotels, were stopped at the barricades, few miles away from station and were asked to join the humble corridor. A majority of populace, oblivious of worldly comforts were seen marching as if they are foot soldiers of the faith.It was neither a throng nor a crowd but a sea of men, women and children who were in continuous motion from station to Ghat and then back on the same route.

We, willy-nilly joined the peripatetic multitude of devotees. While a day-long exercise reduced us to a pair of groggy eyes and two pairs of ischemic limbs but those from hinterlands, whose large portion were women-folk ,were calm and composed. They were tired but not worn out, their hair dishevelled but face still gleaming with pride.

For them Kumbh appeared more of a civilizational moment rather than any political or religious frenzy.

The Ganga, a primordial mother is close to the hearts of these folks and its celebration, a generational event, embedded in their DNAs.

This amalgamation of urban and rural crowd was truly a poignant moment.

It was humbling.

It was moving.

It was a temporal sangam.

It was the best of times...