Kolhapur’s Pilgrimage Paradox

Kolhapur: Even as the state government clears the first tranche of Rs 1,500 crore under an ambitious Rs 5,000-crore plan for the development of Kolhapur as a major pilgrimage centre, the ground reality for devotees tells a far less reassuring story. Each month, the temple’s donation boxes swell by an estimated Rs two crore, while crores more lie parked in bank deposits earning interest. Yet, for the thousands who arrive daily to seek the blessings of Goddess Ambabai, the journey to the...

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Kolhapur: Even as the state government clears the first tranche of Rs 1,500 crore under an ambitious Rs 5,000-crore plan for the development of Kolhapur as a major pilgrimage centre, the ground reality for devotees tells a far less reassuring story. Each month, the temple’s donation boxes swell by an estimated Rs two crore, while crores more lie parked in bank deposits earning interest. Yet, for the thousands who arrive daily to seek the blessings of Goddess Ambabai, the journey to the sanctum begins with an ordeal—walking barefoot on scorching roads under an unforgiving sun. With temperatures in Kolhapur soaring past 40°C, asphalt and concrete roads leading to the temple radiate intense heat. For devotees—many of whom travel hundreds of kilometres—this translates into a painful trek, quite literally. The situation is particularly harsh for senior citizens, who are often seen hopping from one foot to another in a desperate attempt to avoid the burning surface. In such conditions, the absence of even basic protective arrangements raises uncomfortable questions about priorities in pilgrimage infrastructure. Stark Irony The irony is stark. While policy blueprints and financial approvals move through bureaucratic channels, immediate, low-cost interventions remain unaddressed. Simple measures—laying heat-resistant carpets along key approach roads, ensuring regular water sprinkling to cool surfaces, and erecting temporary shaded canopies—could significantly ease the devotees’ distress. Such steps do not demand massive outlays, only administrative initiative. As chairperson of the temple trust, the Kolhapur District Collector is uniquely positioned to catalyse this response. The summer vacation period only amplifies the challenge. Families flock to Kolhapur in large numbers, often combining visits to Ambabai temple with pilgrimages to nearby shrines such as Jyotiba. The surge in footfall transforms the temple precinct into a sea of humanity. Yet, the infrastructure has failed to keep pace. A similar concern was flagged last year as well, with limited, ad hoc relief provided by a few local traders who laid makeshift carpets for their customers. This year, however, little appears to have changed. Humane Pilgrimage The issue, therefore, is not merely administrative—it is collective. The responsibility to ensure a humane pilgrimage experience cannot rest solely with the temple trust or the municipal corporation. Traders and business associations operating in the temple vicinity, who benefit from the steady influx of devotees, must also step forward. Kolhapur has historically demonstrated remarkable civic spirit during festivals such as Navratri and the Rathotsav. Extending that ethos to provide shaded pathways during peak summer would be a meaningful gesture of reciprocity. Across India, leading pilgrimage centres have invested in visitor comfort—air-conditioned waiting areas, chilled drinking water, and clean sanitation facilities are increasingly the norm. In many cases, nominal user charges are levied, and devotees are willing to pay for such services. Kolhapur risks falling behind if it does not address these gaps with urgency. At its core, the issue is one of dignity. Devotion should not come at the cost of physical distress. Until basic amenities are ensured, the promise of transforming Kolhapur into a premier religious tourism hub will remain incomplete. For now, the pilgrim’s experience continues to echo a troubling refrain: first the searing heat beneath the feet, and only then, the grace of the goddess.

When the Princess Left Her Fortress…

Anishkaa Muthe
Dec 30, 2024
4 min read

Updated: Jan 2, 2025

I recently saw a movie, it had this dialogue “teenage girls are psychopaths” and maybe it is right, maybe we are a generation full of messed up kids trying to survive in this deathly jungle we’ve created for ourselves. And this survival gets harder when you’re a 16-year-old that moves into a city way bigger than their own, to ‘step into the world’ with rosy dreams and rosy expectations. I am one of those 16-year-olds, who with very romanticised notions, very naively decided to step into the ‘City of Dreams’: Mumbai.

Mumbai, is probably 10 times the size of my not very humble, but very little town. Moving to Mumbai was my dream since 1st grade, and when that dream manifested, I was on Cloud 9. I thought my life would be perfect, I’d have the perfect group of friends, I’d go to fancy parties, I’d do lots of events in college, I’d be known, I’d be in my ‘Academic Beast’ ‘It Girl’ era and what not; but reality is pretty far from any of that. Back in my town, I was the top of the hierarchy, the Perfect Girl, centre of attention, the Lovely Queen; after moving to Mumbai, my life of the last 13yrs came crashing down on me. I became this introverted, invisible person; the friends’ group or lots of parties definitely did not happen, neither did the academic beast and It girl era.

I came to realise that Mumbai, no matter how pretty, beautiful and picture-worthy, is very harsh and extremely tough. No matter how much anyone says ‘Mumbai embraces all’, the ‘All’ still do feel left out to some extent, when everyone around you is this confident Mumbai Kid and you’re this awkward girl from out of town who knows nothing about the city, its people or its ‘culture’, who’s trying to push through this humongous crowd that’s, without trying very hard, swallowing you down; but standing here, watching this city move past me, I wonder Does Mumbai really not bother about anyone Or Is it just not willing to let you in?

But there’s still something to hang on to, somewhere to belong, isn’t there? When you go back home and you have friends there; Spoiler Alert: you don’t. When I went back home for my first holiday, I realised I didn’t belong there anymore, now I was the Mumbai Girl; 13yrs lost and forgotten, within 3 months. That’s when it hit ‘I’m all alone now’ neither do I belong in Mumbai, neither do I back at home. Trust me, I have never felt more lost in my life.

I’m the kind of people who thrive on attention and external validation, to have that very thing taken from me was very hard to live with. So, I chose to cope by holding on, holding on how? Well, simple tactic, making an indirect statement saying “you excluded me, but I belong in places better than you” how I did that? I held onto my past self, my actions were based on how pretty, fun and ‘happening’ my life was to look on Instagram. I did have fun, not that I didn’t, but most of it was for the eyes of the world and not my own satisfaction [it still is that way, I haven’t gotten any better yet].

Then came my midterms, and I wasn’t as great as I thought I’d be and my extracurriculars weren’t anything major either. That made me realise that I was like any other kid around me here, unlike when I was back home, always the different one, the one that stood out, and suddenly I didn’t anymore, I was ordinary. The realisation hit me, right in the face, hard and strong, that in this huge ocean, I was no whale or shark, just another little fish in the Shoal. My future suddenly became scary, thinking about college and university became terrifying and I just wanted to avoid it all, simply run away [I still do, sometimes] And now, I’m a mess.

But not all of it was bad honestly, Mumbai taught me a lot of things, it humbled me and it helped see: within myself and so many things about myself that I never really knew and were suddenly crystal clear in front of my eyes, as if a very loud noise had been shut down and I could hear clearly again. Back at home, I had this persona designated to me: ‘The Perfect Girl’ and suddenly I didn’t have to be anyone anymore, it was harder that way honestly, to not have a script to follow anymore. I had to discover myself and who I truly was for the first time Ever; I think that’s what I’m doing now, getting to know myself beyond who I was 6 months ago.

Things aren’t any better right now, I don’t think they will be for very long and sometimes moving here may seem like the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. So, this new year I have one resolution: I’m going to find who I am, a new persona, a new person, not defined by her past self, past life and this Social Jungle of teenagers she’s surviving in. This new year will be of rediscovery. So, here’s to 2025 and to all of us, whose lives changed because they stepped into the big, bad world out there; let us all be proud of ourselves as this year ends, because leaving our homes and lives behind is not easy and we lived that down: The Shift, the way it hit our egos and shattered our sense of belonging, but we didn’t run away, we strived through it and are surviving to see the light of day.

So, A Very Happy New Year People.

(The author is a student of St. Xavier College, Mumbai.)

1 Comment

Jayaram Kousik .

Jun 12, 2025

Great write, yes Mumbai is a jungle and you have to fund your true bearings and none towards your destination