This February, I found myself standing on the dusty banks of the sacred Sangam in Prayagraj — the confluence of the Ganga, Yamuna, and the mythical & mysterious Saraswati. It was the time of the Mahakumbh, a gathering so massive that it felt like the entire human race had shown up, draped in color, faith, and a deep hunger for something they couldn’t always name.

Millions of people had come, seeking something — moksha, answers, healing, peace, blessings, forgiveness, closure, clarity, even miracles. Some knew exactly what they were looking for. Others had no clue. I was firmly in the no clue category.

I didn’t go to the Mahakumbh with a specific prayer or a checklist of spiritual goals. I went because… well, something called me. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the stories I’d heard of cosmic alignments and the energy vortex that opens up during the Mahakumbh. Maybe it was just a calling really.

But mostly, I think I went to soak in whatever that sacred space was overflowing with.

And overflowing is the only word that fits.

From the moment I stepped onto that holy ground, something inside me went quiet. Not silent — just quiet enough to actually hear. The chatter in my head softened. The questions paused mid-sentence. There was no rush. Just a sense of… being held.

What I found there wasn’t some dramatic spiritual awakening. There were no lightning bolts or floating yogis (I did want to visit the sectors where the Yogis were). What I found instead were:

• Helpful people: Locals and strangers who guided me through crowds, offered directions without being asked, shared their smiles like it was the most natural thing in the world.
  
• Kindness that didn’t wear a robe or chant mantras, just showed up in the simplest acts.
  
• Food that was so basic — dal, roti, sabzi — yet felt like it had been cooked in someone’s heart and served with invisible blessings.
  
• Skies that looked like paintings — bold strokes of pinks, oranges, purples, with birds flying in meditative patterns.
  
• River Ganga, who didn’t just cleanse me, but completely engulfed me. Like she knew exactly what I didn’t. Like she had decided, “I got you.”
  

When I stepped into her waters, it wasn’t just a ritual bath. It felt like a full-body exhale. Her flow carried away more than just dust. It took something deeper — things I hadn’t known I was carrying. And when I emerged, I didn’t feel brand new. I felt… remembered.

What I didn’t know I was seeking — lightness, stillness, reassurance, a gentle nudge to trust life again — found me.

That’s the funny thing about seeking. Sometimes we go hunting for something, only to find what we really needed, not what we thought we did. And sometimes, we don’t seek at all, and life drops a lesson in our lap with a quiet, cosmic wink.

So yes, what you seek is what you find.
Even if you don’t know what you’re seeking.
Especially then.