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I arrived in Nashik from Chennai toward the end of August to find out for myself what the Kumbh Mela is actually about and, of course, capture memorable images. I did know that it represented one of the largest gatherings on earth, and peaceful at that. I was also ready for an overdose of the saffron colour, and believed that would be what I would remember the Kumbh by for a long time.
Nashik was what I would call a quaint little town. Not a city. The weather was nice during the day, and the nights a bit cold. It was a welcome change from the searing heat of Chennai.
My first stop was Ram Kund, the epicentre of the ‘Shahi Snan’ or the ‘Royal Bath,’ where it is believed one can wash one’s sins away. In the brown waters of the Godavari. This is where the Vaishnavites go to to have a dip. This is the only Kumbh — there are a total of four Kumbh Mela venues — where sadhus of the two sects have a dip at different venues.
A half-hour drive away from Nashik lies Trimbakeshwar, locked on three sides by mountains, and the place where the Shaivite sadhus take their ‘shahi snan’.
At Ram Kund, the screech of a conch went unnoticed. It had become part of the ‘soundscape’ of the town. The sadhus were yet to come here in overwhelming numbers. And so what drew me in the smaller-than-expected crowd was the sight of boys and girls selling balloons and paper whistles.
A boy, studying in class six, was running back and forth selling balloons. His younger sister was further away. “I make three hundred rupees every day. During the weekends, I make five hundred rupees,” the little boy said.
He and his sister attended school everyday after which they came to the ghats to sell balloons, he said. The two stayed with their grandmother. They gave her the money they made because their aunt needed to be married off. “But my grandmother gets us whatever we ask for. She is very nice unlike the parents of other children who sell balloons.”
Pointing to a girl who sells balloons, he said, “Her father takes away that money and drinks alcohol everyday.”
After talking with him for some more time, I told him that it was time for me to get back to the hotel. He insisted on showing me the way and walked with me for nearly a kilometre. “It was very nice talking to you. I felt extremely nice,” he said as we neared a junction from where I could flag down an auto.
The next day I headed to Tapovan, a place that is said to be where Ram, Sita and Lakshman took refuge after they were sent into exile. Tapovan is also where Lakshman was believed to have cut off Surpanakha’s nose. That scene is played out in a statue at Lakshman Mandir there.
The journey through Tapovan to reach this temple involved passing by camps of various sizes, put up by the numerous ‘Akhadas’ or religious sects, and where speakers blared on both sides of the road from these camps. There were posters all over the place, some large, some small, with photos of the leaders or heads of ashrams and akhadas, welcoming pilgrims and sadhus to the Kumbh.
The size and location of these camps, it seemed, are determined by the clout they enjoy. Many of the akhadas provided free food and accommodation in tents. But, there were simmering differences between the camps, most often of a political and personal nature.
The camps themselves were a study in contrast. One could easily find a large towering structure with the best of tents and sleeping spaces immediately next to a small camp with asbestos roof and tarpaulin floor mats that could barely stop the water from seeping through the soggy mud floor beneath after a night of rain.
Some of the akhadas spent as much as Rs. 6 crore in putting up camps and providing food to pilgrims. Smaller ones are said to spend a few lakhs — they couldn’t afford more.
Elsewhere, in an under-construction building, there were men, women and children, using up the empty rooms to sleep. It was afternoon. But the place was dark and damp, and with sadhus too taking shelter in the building and smoking weed.
The police personnel brought in from different parts of Maharashtra to oversee security at the Kumbh were more or less twiddling their thumbs. Except, on the day of the ‘Shahi Snans’.
At Trimbakeshwar, my mental image of the Kumbh Mela seemed to be turning out to be true. A procession was on as I disembarked from the bus. And all of a sudden, I found myself in the midst of naked sadhus, holding trishuls, their bodies smeared with ash. Their leaders, sporting large rudraksha malas (necklaces strung from Elaeocarpus seeds), were seated on horses. A horse, with its feet and ears painted pink, danced to the tune of the drumbeats, even as chants of ‘Har Har Mahadev’ rent the air.
“This is what I came here for,” I momentarily thought as I clicked away and ran atop a building under construction to get a top angle and shoot more pictures.
The procession at Trimbakeshwar every afternoon was quite a spectacle. People thronged to watch the sadhus. The crowd swelled every minute and at every place. People peered out of their windows and rooftops, and the small streets of Trimbakeshwar ensured that the excitement among onlookers was extremely palpable. There were mobile phones everywhere with people taking pictures of the procession.
Religious leaders sat on what seemed to be expensive custom-made chariots while pilgrims stood by the roadside with folded hands and sought the blessings of every godman passing by. Some of the godmen even obliged the cameramen holding up their hands for a “blessing”.
I thought I had stepped into a totally different world when I paid a visit to ‘Kumbathon,’ an event sponsored by MIT which tries to solve issues at the Kumbh. The inputs provided by the teams were also used by the police and district administration in enabling crowd management among other things.
A medical camp run by Dr. Pratik Shah, a staff scientist at MIT, and his team was experimenting with a small credit card-like device. This device, which can be held in one hand, connects to an app and provides an ECG report. “This will go to market soon and could easily be affordable,” he said.
“A sadhu fell at my feet, because this was the first time in his life that he had had a health check-up. I had tears in my eyes. While we sit in our labs at MIT and Harvard and the like, this is the first time I am seeing for real, the amount of impact our technology is making in people’s lives,” he said.
Over a month after the visit, I still think about this interaction. How much longer do we need before the benefits of technology can be brought to everyone? I also wonder about the little balloon sellers. What would they do when the many events surrounding the Kumbh come to an end, and the processions end? What I know for certain is the enduring colour in my memories of the Kumbh Mela wouldn’t be saffron as I thought initially; it would be brown. And it would be of the Godavari waters.
