By Jyotika Kalra
On Sunday, July 27, thousands gathered at the Mansa Devi temple in Haridwar with hope and devotion, but within minutes, their faith was met with fear. A rumour broke out about a live electricity wire falling on the stairs. This created a sense of fear amongst the devotees and triggered a deadly stampede that killed nine people and injured many.
Early reports indicated that the number of devotees that day exceeded 5,000. They were climbing a stairway that is already crowded on ordinary days, flanked by makeshift stalls, tarpaulin-covered shops, and vendors. Additionally, there was no signage to guide movement, no emergency exits, and no alternate route to relieve the pressure. Still, nothing has come into the public domain about how such tragedies can be prevented in the future.
THE SCIENCE OF CROWDS—IGNORED AGAIN
Fruin’s crowd safety model shows that once a crowd reaches about five people per square metre, things start getting risky, and at seven, it can quickly become life-threatening. While the safe density for walking downstairs and upstairs is defined to be 3.5 and 3.2 persons per square metre, respectively.
It’s not just a matter of discomfort; it’s a tipping point where people lose control over their movement. These numbers aren’t just statistics—they’re warnings that effective crowd management can’t be treated as an afterthought. It is all well-known and documented, so why weren’t the relevant authorities enforcing it?
OFFICIAL RESPONSE: DISMISSAL OVER ACCOUNTABILITY
Officials confirmed the scale of the loss, but words rarely capture what it feels like to lose someone in a place meant to offer peace. What was even more disheartening was the statement of the district magistrate, who was more concerned about dismissing the rumour of a wire falling than acknowledging the precious loss of human lives.
He focused more on insisting that none of the casualties resulted from electrocution and cleverly tried to steer the narrative away from overcrowding, poor planning, and lack of infrastructure—the actual causes of the stampede.
THIS WASN’T AN ANOMALY. IT WAS THE PATTERN
This wasn’t a one-off event. It follows a pattern that’s both tragic and, by now, depressingly familiar.
- July 2024, Hathras, Uttar Pradesh: 121 dead after 2.5 lakh devotees crowded a space cleared for 80,000.
- January 2025, Tirupati: six pilgrims died at the Tirumala temple.
- January 2025, Prayagraj: 30 killed during the Mahakumbh.
- February 2025, New Delhi Railway Station: 18 crushed in a panic triggered by miscommunication.
- May 2025, Goa: six dead, 100 injured during the annual festival of Sri Lairai Devi temple.
- June 2025, Bangalore: 11 dead during an IPL celebration for RCB’s victory.
These aren’t different stories. They are the same story unfolding in different places. Whether it is a temple, a train station, or a riverbank, the outcome remains heartbreakingly consistent. Too many people, not enough space. Too much faith, not enough planning.
WHAT COULD HAVE SAVED LIVES? ALMOST EVERYTHING
What makes the Mansa Devi tragedy even more unbearable is how little it would have taken to avoid it. Real-time crowd monitoring. A digital entry system. A simple loudspeaker announcement to dispel the rumour.
Some devotees told local media that they had pleaded with guards to open an upper gate to reduce the pressure. Nothing happened. Injured pilgrims were carried by hand to ambulances parked hundreds of meters away.
In the days since, the Uttarakhand government has issued the usual statements. A district-level inquiry has been ordered. New crowd management reviews are “underway.” If you’ve followed any of the previous tragedies, you’ve heard all of this before.
THE VICTIMS: DEVOUT, BUT POWERLESS
But the question that won’t go away is this: Can the government pretending concern after every loss serve any real purpose? Why are religious crowds, a known and predictable reality in India, still treated as logistical surprises? Why is safety for the faithful still left to luck and prayer?
Perhaps part of the answer lies in who the victims are. These aren’t high-profile citizens or powerful constituencies. They are the nameless thousands—daily wage workers, homemakers, pensioners, young children—whose devotion is deep, but whose political influence is nil.
FAITH DESERVES SAFETY, NOT SPECTACLE
Pilgrimage is a part of our national rhythm. People will continue to come, whether it is Haridwar or Varanasi, Tirupati or Amritsar. That’s a certainty. Worship should never feel like walking a tightrope.
It’s not enough to offer prayers for the dead. What India needs now is not another committee. It needs a cultural shift in how we approach public gatherings and pilgrimages.
- Holding zones must be constructed.
- One-way systems for movement must be enforced.
- Crowds must be monitored by trained personnel and infrastructure—not by overwhelmed volunteers.
THE SOP OF SHRUG AND FORGET
What we often see instead is a familiar pattern: a committee is set up, an inquiry is ordered, and promises are made. The high-level committee investigating the New Delhi Railway Station tragedy, for example, concluded that a passenger’s headload fell, causing pressure on a staircase. But anyone familiar with Indian train stations knows passengers often carry headloads—should that really be the explanation?
THE COURTS ARE WATCHING, BUT WHO’S LISTENING?
In a recent case involving the management committee of Shri Bankey Bihariji Maharaj temple, the Allahabad High Court observed: “Human life cannot be put at stake just because somebody has an objection… even private temples where devotees come for darshan must treat safety as paramount, and the government is bound to make necessary arrangements.”
We see a stark contrast between celebrating the Hindu faith and neglecting the lives of its devotees. We build grand corridors and televise them, but fail to provide basic security infrastructure. We spend crores on illumination, but investing in safety doesn’t even enter the discussion.
A CALL FOR CULTURAL CHANGE
But perhaps the real shift must come from within. People need to start valuing their own lives—not just spiritually, but practically. Belief shouldn’t translate into blind acceptance of disorder and chaos. You can have faith and still ask questions. You can be devout and still demand safety.
When people continue to die in stampedes year after year, it stops being a one-off tragedy and starts looking like something far worse: a deeply ingrained failure we’ve learned to overlook—and tragically, to normalize.
—The writer is an Advocate, Supreme Court of India, and former member, NHRC