Devotion Deathtrap

It has happened again. Eight people dead and over thirty injured, trampled not by divine wrath but by administrative negligence and preventable chaos. The stampede at the Mansa Devi temple in Haridwar on a crowded Sunday morning is a disgrace. Every such calamity leaves behind familiar echoes of bereaved families, panicked eyewitnesses and hollow promises from those in charge. What remains unchanged is the state’s inability or unwillingness to learn.

The sequence is grotesquely predictable. A rumour, this time of a snapped electric wire, triggered panic and inadequate crowd control did the rest. The hilltop shrine, popular during the auspicious month of Sawan, saw a deluge of devotees - many of them Kanwariyas - seeking blessings. But what they found instead was death.

Officials, as usual, have been quick to deflect with the administration insisting that barricades were in place. But if the preparations were in place, why did the system collapse the moment crowds surged? Why were shopkeepers the ones performing rescue, when the police were nowhere to be seen?

The stampede at Mansa Devi is part of a bloody ledger India refuses to close. Besides the stampedes that take place at the Kumbh mela, to just enumerate some high-toll ones: in 2013, more than 110 people were crushed to death at the Ratangarh temple in Madhya Pradesh. In 2008, over 140 perished at the Naina Devi shrine in Himachal Pradesh. The 2005 tragedy at Mandhar Devi in Maharashtra killed over 300. Each of these incidents occurred at religious sites during peak pilgrimage seasons. Each was preceded by warnings about crowd mismanagement. And each was followed by inquiries that went nowhere.

Pilgrimages in India are deeply embedded in its cultural fabric. Yet, time and again, they are treated as spontaneous spectacles rather than foreseeable logistical challenges. Governments deploy police only after stampedes occur. Temple trusts take refuge in divine will. And the average pilgrim is left to navigate chaos barefoot and alone.

Uttarakhand’s state machinery, in particular, has had ample warning. The Kumbh Mela in Haridwar in 2021, held in the midst of a pandemic, exposed the state’s poor crowd control. The Char Dham Yatra each year sees roads choked and hospitals overwhelmed. Yet, the template remains unchanged: token barricades, a smattering of volunteers and prayers that disaster won’t strike.

What Uttarakhand needs is preemptive action. That means fixed caps on daily footfall, real-time surveillance, mandatory registration, clear signage, emergency corridors and trained personnel.

It also means accountability. Not a single official has been prosecuted for criminal negligence in past temple stampedes. Until bureaucrats, police officers and trustees face legal consequences, there is no deterrent against repeating these deadly lapses.

India’s spiritual fervour is not in question. But blind belief must not extend to assuming that divine intervention will compensate for human incompetence. Faith deserves respect. But more urgently, it deserves safety.

Until that becomes a priority—not just in press conferences but in practice—the next stampede is only a rumour away.