At one moment in northern India, a crowd of tens of thousands of people, mostly women, packed tightly together under a vast tent, were singing and swaying with devotion to a revered saint standing before them on stage.
But as soon as the Guru left, people began to jostle and push to escape the cramped space below the pavilion and the silent, stifling heat. Some began to fall into the muddy ground below or into the adjacent ditch. There was panic and screaming, and bodies piled up everywhere.
By Tuesday night, the toll from the tragedy in Hathras district of Uttar Pradesh was devastating: 121 people, mostly from poor areas, were killed and dozens injured.
Families went to multiple hospitals looking for their loved ones’ bodies, with the search continuing until after midnight.
At Bagra General District Hospital, where the 34 victims were taken, bodies lay on slabs of melting ice in a corridor. Their faces still bore the scars of the afternoon’s terrifying mob stampede. Chunks of mud dripped from their hair and dried blood ran down their skin. The corridor’s green carpet was soaked with mire and mud from the shoes and slippers of distraught relatives.
Dozens more slabs of ice were piled on the balcony outside. Ambulances continued to bring in the dead. Police officers, accompanied by family members, walked from body to body, taking down details in red notebooks.
A husband crouched on the wet floor beside his wife’s body and banged his head against the hallway wall. A grandfather grabbed the tiny fingers of his only grandson. A son bent down to search, trying to find his mother’s body.
The eerie silence of the hospital was frequently broken by anguished cries as victims were identified.
Narayan Sakar Hari, known as Bole Baba, was a government official before he became a self-described Hindu guru and attracted a large following, and villagers say he has become a symbol for Dalit women, who are at the bottom of India’s strict caste system and have historically been marginalized as “untouchable” and barred from entering temples.
Tuesday’s rally brought people by bus, train and taxi, then spilled into tents set up in farmland near the highway. They came from all over the state, some walking from nearby neighborhoods. Some came alone, some with neighbors, friends, children and grandchildren. It was a rally they didn’t want to miss.
Hans Kumari, 40, arrived by taxi with 10 other women. She had started following Bole Baba in the hope of finding a cure for chronic health problems – knee pain and sleep disorders. Several women from her village had told her the saint could help her, so she began attending his meetings regularly.
“I got here early yesterday to get a good spot,” she said.
Ms Kumari said the commotion began after Bole Baba finished his sermon, got off the stage and left in his car.
“People started running like crazy, mostly women,” she said. “I slipped in a ditch and walked over what looked like a pile of bodies. I saw the bodies of two women and a child at my feet. Bodies were piled up like mountains.”
Kumari said that despite suffering bruises on her skull and all over her body, she managed to escape by “keeping her head down, reaching out and continuing to cut”.
Others weren’t so lucky.
“The bus carrying devotees had returned to the village. My mother was not on board,” said 29-year-old Bunty Kumar, hair disheveled and in tears, as he arrived at the government hospital. “We finally found a photo of my mother lying on a slab of ice on the internet. That’s when we realised she had passed away.”
Farmer Saudhan Singh, 62, sat silently beside the body of his only grandson, Rehansh, aged 2, lying on a slab of ice. Rehansh’s short hair was sticking out in all directions. Parts of Rehansh’s yellow T-shirt were visible from under the white sheet. His father was too distraught to come and identify the body.
Rehansh was a devout devotee and had come by bus with his mother, who frequently attended religious meetings, according to Singh. Both men have since disappeared.
“He came by bus with his mother,” Singh said. “She had attended his sermons many times before. I have also attended a few. He teaches us about brotherhood, humanity, peace and love.”
His sadness was clear as he spoke of his love for his mischievous child: “My grandson called me ‘Old Hag,'” he said. “He asked for sweets, bananas and biscuits.”
Mujib Mashal Contributed reporting from New Delhi.
