The Maha Kumbh: A sea of humanity in perfect harmony

There are some experiences that defy words, moments so colossal and awe-inspiring that any attempt to capture them in writing feels inadequate. The Maha Kumbh Mela is one such phenomenon—an ocean of faith, discipline, and sheer human endurance. For three days, I walked amidst this unparalleled convergence of humanity, and not once did I see anger, impatience, or even a trace of irritation. If anything, the intensity of belief and the collective resilience made it one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

The sheer numbers at the Maha Kumbh are staggering. This year, the estimated crowd over the weeks was beyond 500 million, a figure that surpasses the population of most countries. The Mela grounds, sprawling across 4,000 hectares, seemed to expand and contract as tides of pilgrims flowed in, carrying their worldly belongings on their shoulders, small children in their arms, and sometimes even tying themselves together with ropes or sarees to avoid getting separated. Despite these precautions, many still got lost in the human flood, yet a strange order prevailed in the apparent chaos.

To put things into perspective, Delhi, one of the most crowded cities in the world, has a population density of around 14,500 people per square kilometer. On peak days at the Kumbh, the density soared to nearly 1.5 million per square kilometer.

Managing such an influx of people is something no private sector entity could ever fathom, and no civil administration in the world, apart from India’s, could even dare to attempt. Yet, the police, the sanitation workers, and the volunteers—despite their exhaustion—carried on with an unwavering commitment.

Not once did I see a policeman lose his temper. They were visibly tired, worn down by the relentlessness of the crowd, yet even when faced with impatient vehicle owners insisting on driving into areas where movement was physically impossible, they handled it with humour. One police officer told a stubborn driver, “I don’t see chopper blades on your car… I’m afraid you can’t go there.” That ability to remain composed, even inject humour into chaos, was refreshing and disarming.

Was the city really clean

Much has been said about cleanliness at the Kumbh. It’s easy to be critical, but what many fail to consider is the density of people—thousands of times more than any urban setting. Given these conditions, the amount of visible garbage was astonishingly low. In fact, I dare say the Kumbh was cleaner than many so-called modern cities like Gurgaon or Bengaluru. The effort to maintain hygiene was visible everywhere, and the relentless cleaning crews ensured that the grounds never descended into an unhygienic mess.

The nerve center and one of the heros of the show

Perhaps the most mind-blowing aspect of this entire operation was the Integrated Command and Control Centre (ICCC). Over 2,800 cameras, drones, and AI-powered analytics monitored every inch of the Mela grounds. Pan-Tilt-Zoom cameras followed crowd movement, anticipating congestion points before they became bottlenecks. This wasn’t just about surveillance—it was an intricate system of managing human flow, ensuring that no single location became dangerously overcrowded.

When managing rush at religious places, the challenge is unique. Unlike other events where crowd control is relatively predictable, here, people trudge for hours, sometimes days, just to take a holy dip. And this isn’t a fleeting moment like temple darshans where devotees are moved along within seconds. At the Kumbh, bathing rituals take time—some wish to linger, others perform elaborate rites, yet the space remains limited.

I was reminded of something Mr. Nripendra Mishra, Chairman of the Ram Temple construction committee, once told me about darshans at the Ayodhya Ram Temple: “You take so long to come, and then are allowed no more than seven seconds.” The same principle applied here, but in an even more fluid manner. The crowd at the ghats was a never-ending current, and time spent in the water varied.

Also, most of us use the Western concept of crowds and their management as a benchmark. However, the crowds in India, especially at the Maha Kumbh, are an entirely different entity. The most crucial distinction is that Western populations are accustomed to a much larger personal space or ‘bubble’ per person, whereas Indians prefer close proximity, often moving as a unified mass. This fundamental cultural difference significantly impacts how crowd behaviour is managed. Unlike in the West, where an increase in density can lead to anxiety or panic, Indian crowds, particularly at religious gatherings, tend to be more accommodating of the closeness, functioning almost like a single organism rather than a collection of individuals.

The ICCC team took this into account, regulating entry and exit paths, ensuring that the stream of humanity moved steadily without any abrupt halts or unsafe congestion.

The system also sent alerts predicting how long it would take for devotees to reach certain points, whether there was sufficient space at a ghat, and which alternate routes could be opened to redistribute the influx. The entire network functioned 24/7, its operators often spending weeks away from home, yet never once showing signs of fatigue or frustration.

For an event of this magnitude, incidents are inevitable. Yet, never once while navigating through the dense crowds did I feel unsafe—not even for a moment. The presence of security was reassuring but not overbearing. Water ATMs were everywhere, clean changing rooms were well-maintained, restrooms were functional, and there was an unspoken discipline among the people. If only our cities were as well-organized as this temporary settlement!

The Maha Kumbh is not just an event; it is an ecosystem, a microcosm of resilience, faith, and exceptional management. It is proof that when necessity demands, humanity can operate on an unfathomable scale without descending into disorder.

As I left, the sight of endless processions walking towards the ghats remained etched in my mind. Some carried only their faith, some had their entire families in tow, some were alone, yet they all trudged on—united by a belief older than time itself.

A note of caution on Google Maps

Don’t follow Google Maps, especially if you’re in a car. While it may be accurate with directions, it is completely clueless about blocked routes. Often, what appears as a blue, clear path on the app is actually a road closed off for security or crowd control, leading to needless backtracking. And this isn’t an occasional glitch—it’s the norm. One would have expected Google to have made some intervention to ensure these things were accounted for at an event of this magnitude.