Gupteshwar Yadav’s fingers tremble as he holds up his phone. On the screen is a photo of his wife, Tara Devi (50), captured in a moment of calm — her blue saree draped neatly over her shoulder, red sindoor bright against her forehead, her wrists adorned with bangles.
“I lost sight of her in the crowd,” the 52-year-old murmurs, standing on platform 14 at New Delhi Railway Station on Sunday, where the worst of the stampede had unfolded the night before.
“I waited for her, but she never came.”
The stampede turned what was meant to be the family’s pilgrimage to Kumbh, on board the Swatantrata Senani Express, into a night of devastation. At least 18 people died in the chaos.
“It was impossible to move on your own,” Gupteshwar says, recalling the events that unfolded on Saturday. “I was just being pushed along.”
As the crowd swelled, he had turned back, searching for his wife, but the sea of bodies made it impossible to see beyond a few feet. “Everyone was just trying to survive, but there was no space, no air, nothing to hold onto,” he says.
In the frenzy, he felt himself shoved sideways, stumbling toward the platform and all he could think was, “Where is Tara?”
He and his brother Chhiteshwar spent the night combing through hospitals, searching through the rows of bodies, and clinging onto a sliver of hope that Tara survived.
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“I think she is no more. But we can’t give up,” says Chhiteshwar.
For 12 years, Gupteshwar Yadav has been running the small Geeta Press bookstall on platform 14. (Express Photo)
A few feet away from where Gupteshwar now stood, 40-year-old Digamber Mandal watched it all unfold.
For 12 years, he has been running the small Geeta Press bookstall on platform 14. He has seen crowds swell during Diwali and Holi, watched impatient travelers argue with ticket collectors, and even witnessed the occasional scuffle over a reserved seat. But nothing prepared him for the terror of last night.
“At first, it was just another busy evening,” he recounts. “Devotees heading to the Kumbh Mela filled the platform, their bags heavy with belongings, their voices raised in excitement. Then came several announcements of trains being shifted to different platforms.”
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“That’s when it started,” he says. “People panicked. No one knew which way to go. The foot overbridge was already packed, but suddenly, everyone was rushing towards it. It was so crowded that people like me could not even go forward after a point.”
He watched helplessly as the crowd got swept into the narrow staircase. “I wanted to help,” says Mandal. “But I couldn’t move amid the sea of bodies.”
As the minutes stretched, station staff arrived — too late to prevent the tragedy, but in time to carry the dead away.
Mandal says he saw bodies being pulled from the stairway and couldn’t bring himself to look at them. “I didn’t want to see,” he admits. “That’s why I didn’t take the stairs when I closed my shop later in the night. I crossed the tracks instead, just so I wouldn’t have to step over the dead.”
By Sunday morning, the platform has been cleared. Ropes now sectioned off the areas where the worst had occurred and guards stood at every corner. The crowd is more orderly. But for Gupteshwar and Chhiteshwar, and for families still searching for their loved ones, normalcy would not return so easily.
“We woke up again at 7 am and started searching for Tara,” Chhiteshwar says. “But we just can’t find her.”
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During the day, a high-level committee from the Railway arrives to begin the investigation. “We have secured all CCTV footage,” says Narsingh Deo, Principal Chief Commercial Manager (PCCM), Northern Railways. “We are looking into all possible angles. Once the investigation is complete, action will be taken accordingly.”
As trains arrive and depart, Gupteshwar continues staring at the sea of faces, searching for the only one that matters. He then heads to platform number 16 and files a complaint with the Railway Protection Force.