2018 update coming!
2012 narrative-
For a long time, I have been seeing congregation of sadhu’s and pilgrims at Esplanade and Babughat in Kolkata in the first half of January. They come in large groups, often in a bus marked with a number plate of other state- Gujarat, Maharastra, Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are the most visible ones. I heard that they are heading towards “Ganga Sagar”. So in my third year of travel to socio-religious congregations in different parts of India, I decided to check out Ganga Sagar Mela 2012.
My trip to the fair was an eventful one. I started researching the place and the event about a month before the trip. The first thing that I realized after investing considerable amount of time was that hope of finding a proper hotel-type accommodation is pretty futile. The island has less than 20 proper accommodations, divided between tourist lodges (such as Larica Sagar Vihar), Government accommodation (such as Public Health Engineering Department) and religious organizations (such as Bharat Sevasram Sangha). Now all available rooms, except in religious organizations, are taken up by the South 24 Pargana District Administration a week in advance of the Fair. I decided to go ahead and book a camp accommodation of Bharat Sevasram Sangha from its office in Ballygunge. They charge Rs. 50 per person per day, including food. The organization has a strong presence in the island, and plays a significant role in organizing the event in tandem with the administration. Next thing to figure out was how to reach. For details regarding travel information, read my supporting blog. I also took the trouble of researching the river tide information, to plan for the best time to arrive at the ferry boarding point. Very few vessels ply on the river during the low tide. The draft of the river during peak of high tide is about 5 meter, and the timings are around 12 midnight and 1 pm in the afternoon. The low tide draft is around 1 meter only, and occurs at around 7 am and 7 pm.
Armed with all this information, plus the contact numbers of a number of senior district officials of South 24 Pargana district who were on duty at various important locations of the route and fair site, I started by travel on Saturday, January 14 at 6 am. I was hoping to reach the venue by 2 pm. I was so wrong! My onward journey took 12 hours and return took 9 hours. I boarded the CSTC bus from Esplanade at 7:30 am and it was cruising along merrily till we crossed Diamond Harbor in good time and reached Kulpi in about 3 hours. Then the bus was pulled aside to a holding bay, in company of few dozen other buses. We were told that there is no place for additional buses at Lot 8, so we need to wait until the congestion cleared. It took about 2 hours for us to roll again. Finally reached close to the Harwood Point/Lot 8 approach road, which was choked with hundreds of buses. I decided to get down from the bus and start walking for the remaining 500 meters. Following the stream of people, I reached Lot 8, where the volunteers and locals started giving contradicting direction of which way to go. The were no signs to direct people to the different queues at the 3-4 boarding points. I found myself in a queue that was caged with bamboo barricade along the sidewalk of a motor road that led to the ferry point.
Several big groups were walking past us along the wide road, while our queue was snaking along at snail’s pace with no destination in sight. I was advised by some people who have been here before that it is better to stay in this line rather than cross over to the main road, as police will eventually stop them and turn them back o the end of the queue. That eventually turned out to be a wrong piece of information, as the main road was actually leading to a point where a large vessel carrier was deployed to ferry pilgrims, in groups of 3000 passengers or more at one time. I stuck to the painstaking progress of the narrow line. I diverted my attention to the missing person’s announcements, where they allowed everyone to make their own fervent appeals to “Gangu ki Maaa” and “Maruti Gupta” to reunite with them at the Bajrang Parishad camp. It was evident from the array of names that pretty much the northern India was represented in the crowd. I also managed an interesting video of pilgrim’s progress in my handycam- sat down along the barricade and recorded the brisk feet of the people heading for their destination.
The crowd density started becoming pretty intense as the queue approached the ferry point- everyone was at their nerve’s end with the 3-4 hour wait in the queue. The administration tried doing crowd control by allowing a small group of people at a time past every barricade- that however made things worse in my opinion. The only saving grace was the crowd themselves were remarkably disciplined and there were sane voices within the group telling people no to push and shove. It was intriguing to see a big group of pilgrims from Uttar Pradesh being escorted by a Communist Party leader carrying a party flag. The state elections are round the corner- I reminded myself. It was a great relief to board the ferry finally. The Muriganga river looked vast and beautiful. I was finally being rewarded for my effort! I got some interesting faces and colorful attires on board the ferry and clicked some satisfying pictures. After a brief respite, the struggle began immediately after reaching the other end at Kachuberia. The buses were extremely crowded and pre-paid taxi stand was empty. Finally, as expected, a helpful-looking person came up and offered to provide a car for Rs. 500, to be shared with a group. The drive up to Ganga Sagar was quite charming. The island is very green, very rural with no visual irritants like billboards to interrupt the view. A lone strip of road leads from one end to another. Within half-hour, we were at the Mela Ground. Bharat Sevasram allocated the camp cottage quickly, complete with entry permits and food card. Then a volunteer led to the cottage. I have been trying to figure out how these camp cottages are on the internet, without much success.
Here I found that these are made of local “Hogla leaf”, supported on a bamboo structure, a tarpaulin covered roof and complete with a flexible door which looks like a thick mat. The structure is quite thoughtful, as it is fully weather-proof and meets the need of privacy and shelter to a large extent. There are rows of such cottages in a large camp ground, which also has a large and clean common toilet facility.
Not wanting to waste any time by resting, I started almost immediately to check out the mela. It was around 8 pm then, and the place was buzzing with pilgrims. Many kinds of products were being sold in the fair, but some of the merchandise seemed to be standard commercial stuff that you would see in any fair- garments, women’s fashion accessories, children’s toys and food products. The really local ones seemed to be the wood and cane crafts, gamcha, shell art, conch shells and Hookahs (Indian style smoking pipes).
The last one being my object of fascination, I stopped to buy one. It is not easy to find these traditional Hookahs made of coconut shell and wooden stem anymore. I knew that it is still somewhat in vogue in this district. After the price was negotiated, the husband-wife team worked in tandem to finish my product to perfection, and even add a bit of customization which I requested.
Further down towards the shore, I reached the precincts of the famous Kapil Muni Temple. Because there was no crowd at that hour, I could walk straight up to the temple and have a good view and even opportunity to take clear photographs.
The sage is seen in a jogasana; his eyes wide open, looking towards the sea. The idols of Ganga and King Sagar flank Kapil Muni and the horse of the sacrificial yagna stands at a distance. For the mythology surrounding Kapil Muni and Ganga Sagar, and the importance of Makar Sankranti day on which Ganga Sagar Mela is held, read my supporting blog on the subject. Near the temple, is the Akhara of the Naga sadhus (ascetics). They were naked as per their custom, smeared in ash, had long matted locks and were seated in separate enclosures on a raised platform.
The Nagas are a subgroup of the larger Dasnami order which traces its origin to Shankaracharya in the eighth or ninth century A.D. The Dasnami Nagas are militant ascetics, worship Lord Shiva and imitate His lifestyle. During the period of Mughal rule in India, Nagas actively recruited across all castes and fought to defend Hindu shrines and monastic institutions from aggression and destruction. For the Nagas, fighting became an integral feature of their identity. Nagas practice physical penance so as to make themselves physically fit and immune to pain. In the post-independence era Naga sannyasis further translated their martial art into less aggressive terms. They now practice wrestling, gymnastics, and other forms of physical exercise. The Juna Akhara is the largest and is based in Benaras. There is a defunct wrestling akhara on Manikarnika Ghat called Naga Akhara. The Juna Akhara always has the first right in the Kumbh Mela to take the Shahi Snan. In Ganga Sagar however, the Naga sadhu’s were absolutely at peace. The devotees thronged near them and they generously blessed everyone with what looked like a soft broom mounted on a wooden pole. It was intriguing to see that men and women were oblivious to their nudity and were not embarrassed to approach them up close to seek their blessing. I talked to one of them briefly. He was happy to chat, and told me that he travels and mediates in the upper reaches of the Himalayas for half of the year till November, then comes to the Gangetic plain to attend the Kumbha Mela or similar other religious congregations in January-February, and then travels for some months to Nepal where his Guru stays. The conversation just started to flow when an enthusiastic traveler group butted in with request for a photo-opportunity with him.
I decided it is time for dinner and some rest before coming back to the sea shore during the auspicious moment of Mahendra Jog of 3:45 am. I opted for a simple vegetarian meal at one of the local-run eateries. The happy ladies of one family were working hand-in-hand to prepare the bread, cook the food and serve the guests. It was evidently one happy day in their lives, when the sale is brisk and the atmosphere very different from the slow and sleepy life on this remote island. My hand sanitizer drew some amused looks, but soon the “foreignness” got drowned in conversations regarding food and the fair. I retired in to my camp cottage to rest for a few hours.
The Bharat Sevasram Complex, which is spread over a huge area, was abuzz with activity.
Over thousand pilgrims were staying here. Monks and volunteers were busy ensuring the administration runs smoothly. Food was being served to a few thousand people. Religious discourse was being held in a large courtyard in the center of the Ashram. Hundreds of devotees gathered in this place, some listening with rapt attention and some curling up in blanket to catch some sleep before the early morning ritual. I walked past them to reach my cottage, not before having to flash my resident card at two security check-points. The selfless service and the cold efficiency of the administrative arrangement touched my heart. It almost seemed that in my fence-sitter status of being neither a pilgrim nor a volunteer/administrator, I am taking advantage of their devotion to the cause without contributing anything. The small charge that I paid for the cottage and food (Rs. 50 = $ 1) did not even cover the cost of food that they were serving. This is something that needs more introspection. “We” must be more relevant, respectful and supportive of such initiatives undertaken by organizations such as Bharat Sevasram Sangha to support the expression of faith of millions. It was an experience to sleep on the hay bed (I had a bed sheet to lay over it, and my air pillow) and get used to life without concrete walls. Every word spoken in the adjacent cottages, even in hushed tones, seemed to be transmitted without any loss of decibel to me. The sound of footsteps seemed to head straight towards me! And the 5-foot partition wall with the adjoining cottages left about a foot open at the top- a new experience of shared existence too. Nonetheless, I fell asleep and woke up after a few hours when it started getting busy outside. It was around 3 am. I readied myself for the morning chill, slung my camera and handycam and started off for the beach to capture the experience of Ganga Sagar snan at Mahendra Jog starting at 3:36 am. I had researched that the most auspicious timings were 3:36 – 4:19 am, then when Shankranti sets in at 6:14 am, and then two Amrita Jogs, between 7:05-9:13 am and 12:36-2:54 pm on January 15 (Sunday).
The short walk to the sea beach through the fair was chilly and charming. Bharat Sevasram was already abuzz with activity. People wrapped in blankets were either sleeping all around, or were staring to walk towards the confluence. The road was well-lit. Beggars were getting ready for their most important day of the year.
Shops at the fair were open. The various night shelters along the way, set up by various NGOs, religious organizations and district administration was coming alive too. The soft sand of the fare ground soon gave way to hard, clayey sand of the Ganga Sagar shore. It was a vast, open area with the water line quite some distance away. The waves were placid. The entire area was well lit, with a private company (Aksa) providing additional lighting using an illuminated light tower powered by a small generator. The priests were ready to help pilgrims who would seek help with the rituals. One intriguing ritual that is opted by some of the devoted pilgrims is the symbolic crossing of Vaitarani River, holding the tail of a cow.
This river, according to the Garuda Purana and various other Hindu religious texts, lies between the earth and the infernal world (hell), the realm of Yama- Hindu god of death. While the pure souls see it filled with pure water and those with good “karma” do not even have to cross this river to reach the doorstep of Yamalok (abode of Yama), the sinners have to cross this river and see it filled with blood and all kinds of danger. A sinner can hope to cross the river safely by doing some noble deeds such as donating a cow, food or wealth. He can also cross the river holding his spiritual Guru's hand. So, in Ganga Sagar Mela, some priests are seen with a calf in tow. A person hoping to get rid of his sin will offer prayers as suggested by the priest, then hold the tail of the cow and walk a few steps- symbolizing safe passage across the dreadful river. In the light of the night, I scanned the waterfront for signs of devotion. A few thousand brave souls were seen to overcome their mortal fear of catching pneumonia and venture in to the icy water at that hour. Several more people were focused on offering prayers at the shore. The simple prayer ritual was to light a small lamp and some incense sticks in the sand, along with some fruits and flowers. I noted one Naga Sadhu taking his bath- his lean figure towering over the water and creating an impressive silhouette. Several family groups could also be seen. A young, urban woman was seen waiting for a few minutes in waist-deep water before overcoming her hesitation and taking the dip before rushing back to the shore, shivering and cold to her bones.
My camera was inadequate for good night shots, so after a while I returned to my camp to complete the morning chores before returning to the waterfront around 6 am again. By this time, many more people had congregated- the crowd must have swelled to over a lakh now. Because the shore was long and wide, the crowd was well spread out and everything seemed very peaceful and orderly.
The early morning daylight was perfect for photography- I started happily clicking pictures. I concentrated on two types- a wide-angle view of the events around me, and close-ups of interesting characters or situations. The mix worked out quite well. The moment of sunrise was memorable- the crimson skyline merged with the ocean, which also curved in to the shore in the east. So I could capture the sunrise, water and people all together in the same frame.
Coast Guard and Bharat Sevasram volunteers were relentless in their assignment of maintaining order.
I saw the volunteers grabbing a few young boys and village women and landing a few blows of their baton on them. It turned out that they were loitering in the water and were a potential law and order problem. It is a ritual for some to throw away old clothes at the time of taking the bath- symbolizing a fresh new beginning. People also throw coins in the water, signifying donation of wealth. I later saw these boys trawling the sand beneath the water with a wire mesh- an innovative contraption to catch any coin which will be settled in the shallow bathing zone. A few East Asian looking tourists were conspicuous by their presence. They were evidently here for the experience and photography. A group of bath-ready Bengali pilgrims requested them for a photo-opportunity, which one of them happily obliged.
A newly-wed Bengali couple made for an amusing spectacle. The man was dressed in corduroy suit, his head wrapped tightly in a muffler and then capped with a woolen cap. He was posing like a peacock for the photographic pleasure of his wife, who herself adorned shoes with heels and a cap
with an unusual peak that almost seemed to conceal a lunch box inside.
A favorite "find-me-here" marker for the village groups seemed to be a pole with something unusual tied to the top. My favorite was one that a frail village woman was carrying, even in to the water- a packet containing three colorful plastic balls. This had to be the grass-root equivalent of a GPS system.
The men in the village groups played the role of dutiful custodian- holding the clothes and belongings of the womenfolk who went about offering prayers and then going in for their dip in the ocean, and also helping women dry their sarees. The headgear and expression of some men were particularly attractive to my camera.
The waves of humanity kept coming, some in processions grouped under banner of some religious organizations. Having captured the sights and sounds of Ganga Sagar to my heart content, I looked at the watch and decided it is time to leave in order to avoid getting caught up with this momentous crowd trying to return to the mainland soon. I started walking back. The road was now lined with beggars- several of them handicapped in some way or another. But what was disgusting is several of them were evidently with make-up, trying to garner sympathy by showing a gaping wound or a horrible infection. To make it doubly heart-breaking, they were crying relentlessly to catch attention. I had made up my mind to donate a certain amount of money and was carrying the pre-determined mount in a wad of currency notes. I managed to give to some legitimate-looking people in theearly morning, but during the return trip it seemed a hopeless task trying to identify the legitimate from the fakes. I rationalized with myself that my burden of sin was standing between me and the intended good deed. After the core area, I gave some money to an ascetic, who was taken by surprise at the unsolicited show of philanthropy but recovered to bless me profusely before I slipped out sheepishly from under his palm. It was time to pack up and leave. I thanked and conveyed my appreciation to the Maharaj at the Bharat Sevasram reception for the kindness and selflessness of the Institution, which made it possible for me and thousands of others to be part of Ganga Sagar.
The feel-good of the morning however evaporated completely when after a short walk to the bus stand I found that already tens of thousands of people were vying already for a transportation option to the ferry point 30 km away. The number of buses was horribly inadequate. The police barricade intended for crowd control made it worse, and the nerves of the volunteers and police were frayed after sleepless two days and this last major crowd situation staring them at their face. There were no pre-paid taxi in sight as well. Gauging the situation and fearing a stampede-like situation, I managed to shout my way out of the barricade and convinced a local hospital ambulance to give me a lift halfway to the ferry point. The kindness of the driver did not go unrewarded, but he richly deserved it as he saved me from a disastrous situation and my hookah and shell-art purchases from being crushed to bits. From where he dropped me, a footboard ride in a local bus took me to the ferry point. There again, had to navigate a situation when the crowd was seething in anger and agony at the frustrating wait for the gates to be opened which would allow them to board the next ferry. My secret back-up numbers for emergency call helped again- a call to the ADM and in charge of the ferry point helped draw the attention to the crowd situation and soon enough I found myself inside a huge LCD vessel, which is normally used to ferry buses and trucks across the river. After soaking up a crowd of few thousand of the in its belly, the giant vessel took us to the mainland. When it finally anchored to the Lot 8 jetty in Kakdwip, whoops of joy went up from among the passengers. The rest of the journey to Kolkata was uneventful. The body and mind seemed to have finally realized that they were put to severe stress in the last 36 hours, so they tried to shut down even in the bus. Only a warm shower and the relief of being back at home revived the mind later in the evening- body would take a day more to recover.
It was a momentous experience on several counts.
First of course was to be part of such a momentous occasion of mass expression of faith. It was nothing short of the month-long Kumbh Mela compressed to within a day. The positivity and the charged atmosphere of the event left a lasting impression. Second was the realization that human endurance is of a much higher order than we the urban bred and privileged population can fathom. The poor and often illiterate villagers had traveled for days in utterly crowded transport, carrying their belonging on their head, with only a vague idea of how to reach and no assurance of food and drink along the way. They completed the journey with a smile and chanting “Gaga Maiya ki Jai” all the way. Third, I felt enriched with the opportunity to interact with people from so many different parts of the country, each from a different social/religious/economic class. I learnt a few lessons of patience, endurance, coexistence, philosophy and devotion in this trip. Finally, the entire journey was like a survival skill workshop. I had to stay alert 24X7 to figure out my way in and out, to avoid being stranded or stampeded upon, to decide when to grin and bear and when to raise my voice and shout. It certainly made me a little more of a man. And confirmed again what I have been suspecting in the recent years ever since I started my tour of socio-religious events in different parts of India: a very large piece of ancient Bharat lies embedded and engrained within the modern and shining India.
