Mahakumbh Snan

 

February 25, a visit to the Mahakumbh mela. The more we feel the pangs of profligacy, the more we feel the need of rituals awaiting antiseptically to treat the germs of guilt born of an inner feeling about our wrongs in actual deeds, thoughts and emotions. The growing spasm between the set of moral values that we worship and our actual deeds is impulsively held tight under our instinctive dive into the pool of rituals. No wonder we have a buxom blossoming of rituals even in the modern age. Sullied with sins, we take holy dips to absolve the self from sins.

Even tragic news are attractive. Many holy-bath aspirants have died in stampedes. But instead of deterring the people, it’s attracting still bigger crowds. The government of course has a political agenda, which is its right just like any other political party, in publicizing the event. Millions throng a limited space on a daily basis. Irrespective of untoward instances, the arrangement is commendable.

Since it’s the shahi snan on Mahakumbh’s concluding day, there is extra rush to Prayagraj. The bus starting from the town is full. There are many old people. A group of young revelers on the last seat in great festive spirit. They shout Lord Shiva’s name in not so decent slang, raise a ruckus, shout, play cards, drink alcohol secretively mixed in coke bottles.

A man is travelling with his wife. He finds the drunk din rising from the last seat offensive. There is an argument. A policeman—in civil clothes—is also going to purify his body and soul. I ask him to intervene. The couple is offered a seat in the front section, away from the din. The party at the back goes as before.

By the time the bus stops at a rundown dhaba for dinner an old man is moving on unsteady legs. He is clearly drunk but still has a quarter left. He buys a small coke bottle, empties half of it as an offering to mother earth and refills it again with the contents of liquor from the other bottle. He was the most sober voice when the brawl took place earlier in the journey. He had spoken like an elderly sage, ‘Brothers you should mind the fact that he is traveling with his wife. With a woman of course one would have less digestion for such fun and cry. Even you would have found it offensive if you were in his place instead of being the merrymakers on the last seat.’

Two farming women seem to be really loyal to their bedtime. There they lie to sleep in the narrow aisle, shaken to sleep by the rattling tin cradle. About 80 km from the destination the clutch system of the bus gives in. One can see smoke near the driver seat and a burnt smell fills the bus. The engine stops. Now is the time to chant Shiva’s name with pure intensity. The older passengers remain inside. The rest of us get down to push the bus. The driver has given up hope and wants us to push it to a patrol station a few hundred meters away, visible with its hazy mercury light. He intends to park it there. And then allow the things to take their own course. But surprisingly the engine flutters to life after a few meters of pushing. It continues to run till 100 meters from the Nehru parking, the final destination. We are happy to reach despite the technical snag. I have been chanting Mahamrityunjay mantra all along the journey. So I take it as my reward for my chanting the Lord’s name with focus and dedication. 

They are minting money at Prayagraj. From Nehru parking, we ride a bike (200 rupees/passenger), travel for 12 km across the post-midnight mercury-bathed sleepy holy town and get dropped about 3 km from the sangam ghat. It’s about two in the morning and a huge crowd is merging on the point of salvation. It’s a shahi snan day and everyone must be having the thought of stampede deaths that occurred a month back. One can feel nervous air around the mass of pilgrims.

Millions of people have been visiting daily for the last month and a half. The facilities have been stretched thin, almost to the breaking point. Temporary toilet boxes are literally gas chambers. They can blow you off your senses. A person with delicate nature will surely faint within a minute if locked inside. Most of the babas have gone to Banaras to pay homage to Lord Shiva at Kashi Vishwanath temple. It feels good. The probability of being beaten by an irate naga sadhu without any provocation is very less now. Many videos have gone viral showing the nagas abusing and hitting people without any reason. They seem to be enjoying the show like little children. It’s good that most of the people take the beatings as blessings.

The crowd moves carrying a hum of faith, almost sleepwalking into the arms of divinity. Me and my friend take many dips. Millions of Her children have dumped their sins in the stream of Holiness. The water is murky. But it hardly matters to anyone. It’s about being here with openness and acceptance. Emptying yourself of your strong sense of ego and Her blessings flow in like water filling an empty vessel.

Thousands of more pilgrims arrive with each passing minute. The administration is tense. There is a public announcement going on asking the pilgrims to leave immediately after taking holy dips to avoid overcrowding. As we get out of the bathing area, thousands are moving with us, humming with happiness for having taken the holy dip.

Again a bike ride to the parking lot. And just as we reach the spot, a UP Roadways bus to Delhi is waiting to be filled. We get the last seat. The suspension system looks rudimentary. It bumps up and down like a cart even on the smooth road. The jolts put the intestines in a knotted, defensive posture. It makes the task of forgetting the morning’s call of nature quite easy. The bowl movement gets driven out of rhythm. It shuts off its operations to deal with the jolting emergency. Because in such a crisis the intestines have to save themselves first. Performance is secondary. It helps though, because there is hardly any usable toilet all along the journey. The system would stabilize only after a night’s rest.

I’m happy that I went for this holy bath. It had been playing in my mind for the last many weeks. It’s better to let the desires flow out instead of letting them stay in your system in a twisted form.