LOST AND FOUND IN KUMBH

Matru looked around wide eyed. He had never seen so many people congregate together in one place. For one, because of his age and height which were ten years and a bit less than four feet, he could mostly see legs and hips, so that made it double the number of people that were there. The only times when he could properly see everybody was when his father hauled him over his shoulders. But that too didn’t make too much of a difference as now he saw heads of men and women, a vast sea of them, there was no end to this surge of people here. Periodically, there were maelstroms in this melee where people shoved and pushed and fell, got up and without raising even their eyebrow, began their journey again.

They were in Allahabad (now Prayagraj) for the Kumbha Mela or festival, to have their holy baths. This took place every four years in the confluence of the holy rivers Ganga, Yamuna and the mythical Saraswati. It is believed that whoever takes bath in this trinity of rivers at this time gets his or her sins of the last seven births, washed. Hindus believed in this fervently. In any case who wouldn’t like to wash off his or her sins by bathing in these holy rivers. It was as simple as that. And so much fun too. The entire scene was a brouhaha, but a positive one. There was color everywhere, from the clothes to the tents and many other things. There were too many mouthwatering delicacies too. There were stalls selling samosas, kachoris and gulab jamuns. Other stalls were selling puris and aloo ki sabji, gajar ka halwa and lassi. The ubiquitous Allahabadi guava was everywhere.

Matru’s mother held his hand tightly. She knew that in this vast melee of humanity it was quite easy for a child to get lost. They shouldn’t have brought him this year, but they were so steeped in their beliefs that a bath in these holy waters during this particular month would erase every human being’s sins of his/her past births. He could begin afresh in this birth with a clean slate. The Kumbh mela had become famous all over the world and the number of foreigners kept on increasing every time the mela took place. The frenzied melee more often than not turned into stampedes too, and it was quite common for children and old people to get lost. In fact, the lost and found theme at one time was the favorite leitmotif of Bollywood movies. Many superhit movies had the story line of children getting lost in the Kumbh mela and then getting reunited with their folks, sometimes after decades. The mela was not as organized as the present times, but it still warranted unprecedented attention and attendance.

The happening took place with Matru about ten years back. It was his tenth birthday. His parents thought it was the greatest gift they could give him and Matru was game for it. He was a hyperactive, happy but slippery child. His mother never really had a hold on him. In their village, he would run all over the place inside and outside their house, mostly outside. It was a small village where everybody knew everybody, hence his mother was reassured that Matru would be looked after. His father wasn’t really bothered and Matru felt wonderfully comfortable with him.

The inevitable had to happen and it did. Suddenly there was a big rush of people from behind. They pushed the people in front of them, probably they too were being pushed from behind. Matru’s mother fell down along with Matru. Her hand loosened its grip, and he was lost, as another wave of humanity hit them. It was over in a matter of minutes. He shouted for his mother and father, his mother screamed his name, and his father also became worried, but nobody could hear anybody. They kept on shouting for each other in vain. His mother began crying. But Matru was not scared or frazzled at all. His was an independent spirit. If anything, he was a bit relieved to be out of his mother’s clutches. Now he would be free to explore the Kumbh Mela the way he wanted to explore it. His parents just wanted to complete their bathing ritual and leave. They were uncomfortable in this crowd. Not so with Matru. He had never seen so many people in his life and at the back of his mind he knew this too, that he would not see so many people again, at least in the near future. The sand on which they walked was whitish and beige, but it had become grey because of the thousands and lakhs of footfalls. He searched for his parents, but when he did not find them, he somehow went to the side of the crowd and thought that he would wait for his parents there. Periodically there would be chantings of ‘Har Har Mahadev,’ which was a hail to Bhagwan Shiva or Mahadev around whom this festival was based. The chant would periodically turn into a roar, then peter down for some time, then pickup again. Its ululating effect was mesmerizing and Matru participated in it wholeheartedly, shouting himself hoarse and adding to the din. He had seen his parents too chanting “Har Har Mahadev’, so it was obviously a good chant. Sometimes he did a jig too when the roar went too loud. He was so obviously enjoying himself that it did not cross anyone’s mind that this child was lost, not that anybody was bothered. Everybody was looking for a shortcut for his or her own salvation.

After some time, hunger pangs began hitting him. He was reassured on that issue too. His mother knew that it was a possibility that Matru could temporarily get lost. She had given him two hundred rupees in denomination of ten-rupee notes. She had repeatedly told him to use the money only in emergency. Two hundred rupees was a lot of money for Matru. He had felt like a king when his mother gave him the money, but he almost forgot about it in this fantastic festival. He remembered it now that he was hungry. Food was available everywhere here, from the langars, where anyone and everyone was fed free by the organizers and others who distributed food in charity. Thousands of people were fed any time of the day. The food was simple but tasty comprising of puri, aloo ki sabji and halwa. Matru knew that he could eat here any time, but he wanted to eat the delicacies that he had seen some time back. He wanted to eat the hot Gulab jamuns and the savoury chaat and the yummy Dahi vadas, gajar ka halwa and of course sweet lassi with a shot of malai or clotted cream on top.

This was the great and gigantic Kumbha Mela. If you were lost, then you were really lost. Matru went back the same way that he had come with his parents. He remembered crossing a pontoon bridge and going to the other side. He had seen the food stalls just before they had entered the pontoon bridge. Now he could not find the pontoon bridge itself. Not to be deterred he asked a few people. They pointed out to the general direction. Matru went in that direction, but got lost again, this time not in the frenzied crowd, but by women singers and dancers. They were wearing bright colored lehengas and heavy jewelry. They were dancing on the ground as well as sitting on camels too. Their singing was raucous and loud, but harmonious too. A huge rapt crowd had gathered around them. Their tunes were filmy, but the words were all in praise of Mahadev. Matru wriggled his way inside the crowd and watched from the first row. The camels were standing indifferent to the whole fiesta, chewing their cud but sometimes obliged the crowds by moving their legs to the beat of the drums. Matru soon got bored of the dance and went in search of food again. This time he did find it, that even on this side of the pontoon bridges. He knew he was near food when delicious smells began permeating his nose and emotions. For a moment, his mother’s face floated in front of him. Before he could think more, he found himself standing in front of a stall selling Gulab Jamuns, small balls made of evaporated milk, fried in clarified butter and then dunked in sugar syrup. They were hot and heavenly. He had three of them for six rupees. There were so many food stalls, all having mouthwatering sweets and savories. He then bought one plate of his favorite chaat, which was Aloo ki tikki, covered with yoghurt, green chutney and sweet tamarind chutney and sprinkled with finely cut onions, coriander and fine sev. He enjoyed every spoon of it. The plate was a bowl made of leaves and the spoon was an ice cream stick. His hunger now abated, he turned and bought an orange ice cream. He licked it and debated whether he should go to the pontoon bridge or not. What if his parents were searching for him this side of the bridge? He decided against going to the other side. He was walking aimlessly when a huge crowd began assembling again, this time there were several policemen too. Curiously, he again wriggled to the front of the road and looked around. What he saw amazed and shocked him. There were innumerable number of sadhus chanting ‘Har Har Mahadev,’ going towards the confluence. Their bodies were smeared with ash, and on their foreheads were three horizontal lines made with sandalwood. The shocking part was that they were totally naked. Matru did not know that they were known as Naga sadhus, who considered themselves the greatest devotees of Bhagwan Shiva or Mahadev. 

Matru was thrilled to bits. This was an unimagined adventure. There was so much color, such mind-boggling things to see, so many trinkets to buy, so much food to eat. What was there not to like? There were boisterous sounds everywhere. On top of that there was police everywhere, unsuccessfully trying to regulate the traffic. Some of them were shouting on their megaphones, to which no one listened, because they could not make out what was being said. Matru approached the shops out of curiosity. There was a stall selling dumrus. These were small two headed pellet drums. Beside the Dumru stall was a stall selling tridents. Both these things were supposed to be the weapons of Mahadev. Here most of them were toys, though some of the heavier and bigger ones were being bought by the mendicants too. Matru tried one damru, rotating it this way and that way. It made a loud guttural cacophony. Matru was thrilled. He bought a trident also. The shop keeper made the sign of a trishul on Matru’s forehead and adjusted the scarf on his forehead.

“Bhaiya, you must buy this Rudraksha mala too, then you will be qualified to bathe in the river. This is real Rudraksha too, but I will give it to you for only five rupees. I’ll give you this conch also for only ten rupees.”

“Okay,” Matru bought the mala and wore it. He looked at himself in the mirror hanging on the stall. Why, he did look a genuine pilgrim now. He tried blowing on the conch, but no sound came.

“You’ll have to practice beta,” the shopkeeper told him.

 Chuckling delightedly, Matru went to the third stall. It wasn’t even a stall. An old woman had spread a sheet on the ground and had laid her wares on it. They were colorful cheap bead necklaces and earrings and bracelets. They were blinking in the light of the sun. It seemed to Matru as if they were winking at him. He bought two strings one red and one yellow, for his mother. The old woman wrapped it in a news paper and gave it to him. A feeling of belongingness had now come to Matru. There was so much more to see and discover. He was not scared of being lost. At the back of his mind, he was wary of the idea that he might be found too soon.

There was a mini stampede again. A group of mendicants were going somewhere, all the time chanting, ‘Har Har Mahadev.’ With all his purchases, Matru now felt fully qualified to take part in the procession. He twirled his damru, carried his trident with confidence and ran to the front of the procession and loudly chanted, ‘Har Har Mahadev.’ He didn’t know where they were going, but with his enthusiastic chanting, it seemed as if the mendicants were following him. On the way there was a huge statue of Mahadev. The chantings grew louder as they walked past the statue.

After some time Matru met another procession. Matru’s eyes widened. These people were not Indians. They were foreigners, men, and women both. Apart from that, there was no difference. They were wearing Indian clothes, mainly in saffron and white and were singing Indian bhajans with all the enthusiasm of any Indian devotee. They were beating on their drums along with their percussion instruments. They were enjoying themselves so much that Matru decided to join them. In all the melee nobody was bothered about anybody. There was single minded devotion and focus to bathe in the confluence of the holy rivers.

Matru’s mother was beside herself with worry and anxiety. In this gigantic, frenzied crowd, he could be anywhere, and anybody could kidnap him. She too has heard many stories about people getting lost in the Kumbh Mela. She cried silently as she didn’t want to worry her husband more than he was at the moment. Her husband was her greatest support. She knew that he too had the same thoughts. They could not leave each for fear of getting lost themselves. They asked everybody around. Nobody had seen such a child. After one hour of frantic searching, they saw a few policemen who were directing the flow of human traffic. They approached one policeman and told them their plight. This was an experienced policeman. He had been deployed in the earlier Kumbha Mela too. He knew that getting lost in this maze of humanity was a commonplace incident. He directed them to a police station there where they made the anxious parents sit and offered them water and a cup of hot tea. There were other people sitting there too, everyone reporting about some loved one missing, either a child or an elderly relative. They heard Matru’s parents patiently and wrote down all the details of Matru and where and how he was lost.

“Don’t worry sir, we’ll definitely find your son,” one of the policemen reassured them, “We find almost everybody here. What you hear are exaggerated tales meant for Bollywood consumption. We have many teams of expert searchers here and sometimes some private organizations also help us. Since your child is young, I will send you to a private organization too. Please give them the details of your son. With both of us working, we’ll be able to find your son much faster.”

Matru’s parents went with a policeman who took them to a hut like tin structure. A board hung over the tin shed. On it was written, ‘We reunite lost people.’ It was as simple as that. Like in the police station, there was a long line of distressed people waiting here too, “These people will also help you in searching for your son. Give them all the details,” the policeman instructed Matru’s parents, then left.

About five minutes later, a man with a pencil and notebook came towards them. He took all the details, “Don’t worry, if your son is on this side, we will find him very fast, but if he has crossed to the other side, it will take some more time, but don’t worry we will find him,” saying this the man went around with a megaphone and began shouting Matru’s name and description. Matru’s parents did not know what else he did but sure enough, after half an hour they saw Matru walking towards them. His mother rushed towards him and held him so tightly that he thought that he would break. She was crying. He tried to wiggle out, but for the moment he was no match for his mother. His father silently patted his head. He then took out some money from his wallet and tried to give it to the man who had found him. But the man refused, “We don’t take any money. The happiness on your face is our payment. But yes, let’s get a photograph taken.” They agreed immediately and obliged.

It was a harrowing day for everybody, so his parents decided to go back to their hotel and return the next day.

This time while returning, even his father held his hand. Matru was slightly disappointed, there was so much more that he wanted to discover, but he soon perked up. There was still the ritual bath tomorrow. He went to sleep immediately the moment his head touched the pillow. After all, tomorrow was a big day.