This Maha Kumbh Mela is the supreme example of both the power and the absurdity of some religious practices. The amazing power of belief that will bring people together from distant places in order to immerse their bodies for a few moments in cold water and pray. The absurdity of choosing painful, sometimes debilitating physical practices, giving up any comfort In this life in hopes of something better in the next. However, I have also seen joy in the eyes of ascetics who have made connection to God. And have felt the force of belief that has supported the very aged to walk great distances to experience a purification of body and soul in the confluence of the water here in Prayagraj.

What an absolutely amazing phenomenon for a population to be so united in their desire to be part of something bigger than themselves! It is not only the pure of heart. Every beggar in India is also here to take advantage of the generosity engendered by the spirit of the event. People, including many young children, are on the side of the roads with tin pans for collections. Many disabled individuals, often without some limb and shaking from some disease, are helplessly lying on mats with relatives nearby to accept donations. And, as Bill thought most uplifting, the many religious sects who are providing free food to all, cooking great vats of rice, fried breads, and vegetables to give away on foil plates. Long lines wait quietly for the food and at one point our guide, who had no breakfast, gets for us a shared plate of some puri bread and potato curry, too spicy for me but enjoyed by Bill and our guide. Our guide, oddly to me, asked whether I had water, took my water bottle and washed his fingers with it after eating and then drank by pouring it into his open mouth without putting his lips on it, but without asking my permission. Our norms are obviously culturally different.

It is a peaceful walk until we reach the other side as the crowds become bigger and bigger as we pick up the outflow of each bridge we now pass. The colors are overwhelming as the women are predominantly wearing a form of red or orange, a color associated with Shakti or power related to Durga, Shiva’s consort. Bright embroidered, spangled, glittering, woven saris, in many cases the best clothing owned by these village women, most likely their wedding saris only worn for very special occasions such as this. There are solo men wrapped in saffron robes with long white beards, some wandering sadhus with walking sticks and head wraps, orange-clad teachers walking with their acolytes. The parade never ends and a new version of human choice suddenly appears a few steps away.

We began the foggy day with our new guide and walk across a pontoon bridge to visit the Akharas. These are groups of sadhus and ascetics in about 13 different encampments within the vast compounds of different Hindu teachers and sects. There are about 19 temporary pontoon bridges which were fascinating to Bill. These bridges were still mostly controlled on this day with the police still wary about the numbers allowed over at one time after the tragic stampede the previous day.

It is non-stop pulsating movement around us as we walk, passing arched entrances to enclosures with banners and photos of the leading gurus of their sects. I do not know Hindi at all but I can read the script from studying Sanskrit so I can see the names of the various groups represented, most of whom I have not heard of. There are tents and meeting halls within each encampment allowing devotees from all over India and the world to gather together during this special time, to chant together and worship together as one unity.

A number of these encampments we pass are providing free food or coffee to the multitudes passing by. There are also sellers of coffee, water, fried foods and people with wares to sell on the ground, piles of brightly covered kum kum powder, amulets and mala necklaces and souvenir trinkets. It is difficult to describe the scene as in addition to the bombardment of people and colors, there are blasting loudspeakers at a dangerous level, with, I am told, public announcements including missing people who became separated. There is a continuous background din from amplified chanting, drumming, music, as well as conversations swirling around. This is not a silent event. Every once in a while there is a police barricade slowing down entry to the next stretch of road and signs to various sectors and important locations. Lines of temporary public outhouses are periodically available, which I used along with Bill (not clean but not impossible like the day before). It is a world unlike any other

We reach the Akhara area. We did not know what to expect and we could not have imagined the reality. A row of small tent-like joined enclosures in which sit holy men who are willing to give a blessing or a talk to the faithful, with the expectation of a small donation equal to $1 – $2. These men vary greatly in their level of asceticism and appearance. From almost naked sadhus covered in ash to men brightly clothed in saffron and red with Beatles-style glasses, teachers with a small group around them, to solo practitioners including one who has held his arm up in the air for 10 years. It is a Fellini-esque vision of another world.
We are taken to the English-speaking American born ascetic called Rishi Bharati, born in Connecticut with piercing blue eyes, with huge mounds of wrapped hair. We are told to sit and bow before him, give our donation, and then ask whatever questions we want. Bill and I have a hard time coming up with appropriate questions but I ask if he fears death and he replies, “No, once you know God you understand there is nothing else.” I also ask how long he meditates every day and he replies “As much time as I have”. Bill asks what it feels like to be him and he replies “Being peaceful”. There is a young Russia woman attending to his needs called “Mata (or Mother) Bharati” and we assume she is his consort or devotee.

We visit the Naga Akharas as well and see the holy men blessing people coming to honor and receive wisdom from them but we are satiated and are happy to stand and look from outside, driven in part by the difficult task of taking off our hiking boots and sitting cross legged on the floor. The wisdom gained for me was how deep the cultural and religious tradition of Hindu India remain, despite its new spirit of education and technology.

Beginning the long trek back to the hotel, a group of young men, some in saffron yellow but not monks, pushed past me and I felt some contact with my body. I soon after realized my iPhone in my pocket was gone. That led to an interesting visit to the police station without results which I will relate about in a later post. This is a place where removal of one piece of material goods may be seen as very irrelevant to one’s life. But I do regret losing all the photos I took today. Perhaps my lesson in impermanence.
We walked about 10 miles today. Bill registered about 29,000 steps. Our feet are tired.

At dinner tonight, like other meals on this trip, I have asked the cook to prepare the brown rice I brought with me. At the camp, I told the head waiter and the chef that they were welcome to taste it when done. The waiter came back and told me he liked it very much as it reminded him of dinners in the village with his grandmother who cooked this kind of rice. I gave him my remaining bag when I left.
This was not an immersion into the waters of the confluence of rivers but into the world of deeply religious Hindu life. It was on so many levels an unforgettable day.
As my phone was stolen, all photos on this blog are by Bill.