Narratives Distant From Reality At Maha Kumbh, Ayodhya
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| To the sceptics, the Maha Kumbh and Ayodhya are nothing more than chaotic meltdowns of mindless religiosity |
This isn't just a religious event; it's a phenomenon of human movement, a testament to India's deep-seated traditions, and a triumph of logistical mastery. But even in the face of this unprecedented turnout, the naysayers persist, spinning narratives that are as distant from reality as fantasy is from fact.
To the sceptics, the Maha Kumbh and Ayodhya are nothing more than chaotic meltdowns of mindless religiosity—an orgy of superstitious fervour rather than a testament to civilizational continuity. They imagine unbridled disorder, a deluge of unwashed multitudes, frenzied rituals devoid of meaning, and a medieval throwback unfit for a ‘progressive’ India.
Never mind the fact that the Kumbh functions with an efficiency that would put most global summits to shame, or that Ayodhya today gleams as a beacon of heritage-conscious urban planning. To them, the very idea of 55 crore people gathering in faith is incomprehensible—unless, of course, it were for a political rally or a pop concert.
In the minds of critics, the Maha Kumbh is a dystopian nightmare—overcrowded, ungovernable, and hazardous. They foresee stampedes at every turn, unmanageable waste polluting the sacred waters, and an overstretched administration failing at every juncture. And yet, what they conveniently ignore is that the Kumbh Mela has, time and again, been hailed as one of the most well-coordinated events globally.
Lakhs of volunteers, an entire temporary city planned with meticulous precision, and state-of-the-art crowd management ensure that a gathering this massive functions like clockwork.
The haters remain oblivious to the medical facilities, the extensive sanitation efforts, and the seamless movement of people on an infrastructure designed to handle the impossible.
They scoff at the idea of crores of people bathing in the Ganges, conveniently ignoring that even the Harvard Business Review once studied the Kumbh as a case of near-perfect mega-event planning.
Then comes Ayodhya—long the focal point of political and religious discourse, now the site of India’s most anticipated temple. To the naysayers, the transformation of Ayodhya isn't a cultural or spiritual reclamation but an ominous sign of ‘majoritarianism.
The temple itself is seen not as a restoration of a long-lost heritage but as a symbol of exclusion. Their imagination paints Ayodhya as a fortress of religious dominance, a city now closed to ‘secular’ values, overrun by saffron-clad zealots forcing a monolithic ideology upon an otherwise ‘diverse’ India.
But what does the real Ayodhya look like today? It is a city being reborn—pristine, inclusive, and breathtakingly beautiful. Roads are wider, facilities world-class, and tourism is booming. The economic upliftment of locals, the surge in employment opportunities, and the renaissance of Indian architecture are conveniently left out of the critics' narrative.
To them, the throngs of pilgrims arriving daily are not expressions of faith but manufactured spectacles designed to impose a particular narrative. They refuse to acknowledge that the crowds come willingly, with reverence, with emotion, and with a profound sense of connection that no propaganda can manufacture.
The hypocrisy of those who deride the Maha Kumbh and Ayodhya is most evident in their selective outrage. When millions throng the streets of Mecca for Haj, it is a remarkable display of faith; when the Vatican draws enormous numbers, it is an awe-inspiring spiritual event. But when Hindus congregate in historic numbers at Kumbh or Ayodhya, it is suddenly an exercise in blind fanaticism.
The same voices that claim to champion freedom of belief are quick to dismiss the devotion of crores as regressive or orchestrated.
They question the expenditure on such events but stay silent when billions are poured into entertainment or political campaigns. If millions of Indians choose to express their faith en masse, it is seen as a problem; if the same numbers turned up at a music festival, it would be called cultural vibrancy.
The 55 crore who have already set foot in Ayodhya and at the Kumbh are not just numbers. They represent a thriving India—one that refuses to be boxed into a colonial, secularist framework that demands the erasure of its past.
The unprecedented scale of participation in these sacred spaces is not just a resurgence of religious sentiment but a reaffirmation of a civilization reclaiming its self-respect.
For the critics, the sight of this faith-driven movement is unsettling because it defies their carefully constructed narratives. It proves that India, despite their dire predictions, is not abandoning its roots but embracing them with pride. And that, perhaps, is their greatest discomfort.
Let them imagine their dystopias. The rest of India, and indeed the world, will witness history being made at Ayodhya and the Kumbh.
