Cannabis and the Kumbh
With tens of crores of expected visitors, the Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj is among the largest human gatherings in the world. The mythologies associated with the Samudra Manthana and Shiva’s affinity for bhang often associate it with spiritual cannabis use, too.
In September 2024, Afzal Ansari—an MP from Ghazipur for the opposition Samajwadi Party in Uttar Pradesh—came under fire when he allegedly advocated for the legalization of ganja, the illegal narcotic produced from the fruiting tops of the cannabis plant. Ansari said that “millions of people consume ganja during large religious gatherings, where it is referred to as ‘God’s prasad’ and considered as a sacred herb.”
The ‘religious gathering’ remark, was specifically a nod to the Kumbh Mela, the grand festival for Hindu pilgrims celebrated approximately every six to twelve years, and often considered as the largest human gathering in the world. The 2025 Kumbh is the Maha Kumbh, a grand version of the event that marks the completion of 12 Kumbh cycles, and is being held at Prayagraj (formerly Allahabad) in Uttar Pradesh from January 13 to February 26. Within its first two weeks, twenty crore participants had already flocked to Prayagraj for the festival; the state government is expecting that number to balloon to 45 crore by the end of February. That is almost one-third of the population of India—the world’s most-populous country.
Pointing specifically at the Kumbh, Ansari added that “an entire goods train” filled with ganja would be insufficient for the festival’s potential cannabis intake. The comments were received with sharp ire and an FIR was lodged against the politician under section 353 (3) of the BNS 2023. Representatives of various Hindu organizations, including the Akhil Bharatiya Sant Samiti and religious leaders like Mahamandaleshwar Atuleshanand Maharaj of Ujjain criticized Ansari’s comments for being disrespectful and provocative.
The controversy was, of course, shaded with a political and communal tinge. Ansari is a Muslim representative of an opposition party, in a state ruled by a heavy Hindu-majority under the BJP. For the chief minister Yogi Adityanath, the Kumbh is a crowning glory of politically-slanted spirituality: the state government has reportedly spent ₹7500 crores to build the infrastructure for this year’s Kumbh. Any insult to sanctity of the said event, thus, is not only an insult to the religion, but to these grand public expenditures, too. The celebration at Prayagraj turned tragic near the end of January, as the chaos of large, mismanaged crowds led to a serious stampede, resulting in dozens of deaths and many more injuries during a significant bathing ritual at the Kumbh’s Mauni Amavasya.
Ansari later apologized for his comments, stressing that he only wanted to “highlight ganja smuggling and drug issues”. Despite the supposed slander in his provocations, however, Ansari’s claims weren’t that off the mark: any attendant truly immersed to the Kumbh will hardly able to deny the omnipresence of this ‘sacred herb’: the sharp smell of marijuana in the air, the whiffs of smoke floating out of chillums (smoking pipes), the many circles of sadhus and other adjacent ‘holy men’ celebrating this confluence of spirituality with some tokes of the nation’s favourite narcotic.
Cannabis is mostly illegal in India. In 1985, the Indian Parliament enacted the Narcotics Drugs and Psychotropic Substances [NDPS] Act into law, officially prohibiting the production, manufacturing, cultivation, possession, sale, transport, storage, and/or consumption of cannabis and other narcotics (including cocaine, heroin, LSD, opium, and methadone). According to this act, cannabis is defined in the forms of ganja (the flowering or fruiting tops of the cannabis plant), charas (the separated resin obtained from the plant), or any combination of the two.
Notably missing from this policy is any preparation of cannabis in the bhang form, which is the paste obtained by grinding the leaves and stems of the cannabis plant. States in India are allowed to make their own ruling on bhang under this national guidance. Under the full legal purview, bhang should not include flowering tops of the cannabis plant or its resin—the parts of cannabis high in THC content. And yet, any bhang consumer knows fully well that this edible drug (whether mixed in your milky summer beverage or a sugary dessert) leaves one in a stoned stupor, too, with a sense of eerie ‘otherness’ that ganja or charas provides: a feeling of elation, a pacing heartbeat, and paranoid jitters.
Why this exception? India’s legal and social stance towards bhang is related directly to the very mythologies associated with the Kumbh Mela—creating a complicated confluence of virtue and vice that makes the policing of cannabis a daily paradox in our country.
It all stretches back to the story of the Samudra Manthana—or the ‘churning of the cosmic ocean’—which is one of the most consequential episodes in ancient Indian mythology. According to legend (mentioned in the Vishnu Purana and elsewhere), a grand celestial battle was fought between the devas (gods) and asuras (antigods). The two sides eventually came to a cordial understanding: they would join forces to churn the great cosmic ocean, the Kshira Sagar, to yield amrit—the mythical nectar of immortality.
The god of medicine Dhanvantari appeared with a ‘kumbha’ (a vessel, or a womb) containing the amrit. Soon, however, the temporarily-reconciled devas and asuras turned foes again, setting off into another mighty battle. The devas turned to the eagle-like divine bird Garuda to fly away with the nectar of immortality; their aim was to drink the nectar all by themselves. As he escaped, Garuda spilled four drops of amrit spilled on Earth from the kumbha at four different places: Haridwar, Prayagraj, Trimbak, and Ujjain (some say that the gods chose to temporarily hide the kumbha—with its nectar of immortality—in these locations). The four spots hence became the four destinations of the Kumbh Mela, originating the belief that a bath by the river here will grant immortality beyond the Hindu cycle of rebirths.
But there was a side-effect to the great churning, as it also released a poison called halahala, which released toxic fumes upon the cosmos and all the celestial beings that inhabited it. It was in the face of this grand threat that the gods turned to Shiva, ‘the destroyer’, the grand deity known to protect and transform the universe. Shiva consumed the halahala, saving all of creation in the process.
The venom drenched Shiva’s throat with a blue hue; he’s been known as Neelkantha (the blue-throated one) ever since. And some believe that the only way he could find some respite for that burning in his throat was through the refreshing, healing powers of bhang.
The venom drenched Shiva’s throat with a blue hue; he’s been known as Neelkantha (the blue-throated one) ever since. And some believe that the only way he could find some respite for that burning in his throat was through the refreshing, healing powers of bhang.
There are many other myths and tales—and Shiva fan-fiction—that associate the ‘Supreme Being’ with cannabis use. These stories are directly responsible for Shaivites around the world incorporating the use of cannabis into Shiva iconography and legend, whether it is the consumption of edible bhang mixed into a drink or a confectionary, or popular images of Shiva portrayed holding a chillum, smoking up the substance in its ganja or charas forms.
Now, Shiva isn’t the only of the major Hindu deities to be associated with cannabis/bhang. The ritual offering of bhang is common at many temples of Vishnu and Krishna (an avatar of Vishnu). It is traditional for statues of Balarama (the god of architecture and farming) to be bathed with bhang. As a result of these ancient cultural beliefs, bhang is legally available in government-licenced shops in various holy cities around India, including Varanasi and Mathura in Uttar Pradesh, towns across Odisha, Jaisalmer and Pushkar in Rajasthan, Hampi in Karnataka and more.
And it is the direct relationship of bhang with Shiva and the story of the Garuda’s spilled amrit that makes the Kumbh Mela an epicentre of recreational cannabis use. In these large gatherings of millions, there is hardly space for any niggling nuances between the form of the plant consumed: it is smoked as ganja leaves, placed upon pipes in its charas form, mixed into bhang-infused cocktails. It is smoked openly on the streets and in grand encampments, around braziers prepared for worship, by the waters of the blessed holy rivers. It is smoked by sadhus and saints and pilgrims and tourists.
For many, the spirituality associated with the Kumbh would simply be unfathomable without it.
Like every Kumbh year, the large demand for cannabis will directly impact the supply-chain for both the legal bhang (collected and transported via government warehouses) and the narcotic ganja/charas (obtained by farmers or dealers via illicit means). Despite the massive amounts of crop destroyed or seized in India every year, the country has no shortage of wild cannabis growth, which sprouts without much tending or assistance across the vast landmass of the country.
Perhaps Ansari’s comments were a purposeful provocation, a political jibe at an opponent before their grand celebration. But the jibe only highlighted India’s larger, paradoxical relationship with the cannabis plant: an ample homegrown resource that faces criticism and celebration under the same umbrella of orthodox religiosity.
Once again, there will be crores at Prayagraj—tens of crores—an awesome gathering of humanity like rarely ever-assembled. Devotees will salute to their almighties, take a dip in the Ganga, seek a small dose of amrit that they believe was once churned out of celestial waters. And they will indulge in cannabis use, too—for the herb has held a close relationship with civilizations across the subcontinent long preceding the ancient religions and mythologies of the land. Facing the noxious halahala of mortal life, there are many who will look upon Shiva’s favourite little tipple for respite.
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Karan Madhok is a writer, journalist, and editor of The Chakkar. He is the author of Ananda: An Exploration of Cannabis In India (2024) and A Beautiful Decay (2022), both published by the Aleph Book Company. His work has appeared in Epiphany, Sycamore Review, Gargoyle, Fifty Two, Scroll, The Plank, The Caravan, the anthology A Case of Indian Marvels (Aleph Book Company) and The Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English 2022 (Hawakal). You can find him on Twitter: @karanmadhok1 and Instagram: @karanmadhok.
