‘Kumbh Mela’ – Getting to Haridwar for the Second Royal Bath

My day started with a 4:00am yoga session on the rooftop of my guest house in Varanasi, one of my favourite places in the world. After yoga, I had to make a quick trip to the hospital for a rabies shot; a few days prior I was bitten by a small domestic dog (lightly bitten but enough to draw blood) and this dog had unfortunately been bitten by a street dog two weeks earlier. After a quick jab from the doctor, I was off to the train station and on my way to Haridwar and Kumbh Mela, a mass Hindu pilgrimage and the largest religious gathering on the planet.

I was in sleeper class and so after spending the day on the train, at about 9:00pm I settled onto the upholstered piece of wood that would be my bed and fell asleep. At 2:00am I woke up to much noise and to find that sleeper class was becoming general seating. As we got nearer to Haridwar, at every stop the train made, more and more Hindu pilgrims were piling onto the train on their way to Kumbh Mela. By the time we reached Haridwar, our car was completely packed with people, and I mean packed.

The train arrived at about 4:00am. After watching an insanely mad rush to get out of the train car, I headed for the station’s baggage storage office where, fortunately, I was able to leave my backpack. ‘Fortunately’ because I don’t think I’ve ever gone to a train station baggage storage office in India without seeing some distressed foreigner leaving, carrying a backpack, box, musical instrument, or bicycle and cursing the luggage storage attendants. Rule #1 of many: ‘No lock, no storage’. “How can I put a lock on a box?” or “My sitar case has locks on it already, see right there and there, it would be physically impossible to put a padlock on it!” are just a few examples of futile attempts to rationalize and hopefully elicit some sympathy from the storage attendants. But once an Indian has said ‘No’ or there are set rules in place, no matter how illogical they may seem to foreigners, there really is no point in trying to convince them otherwise (of course this is based on my experiences only).

After my bag was stored, I walked out of the station to find hundreds of Indians sleeping on the grounds in front of the entrance. After sneaking through bunches and groups of bodies, I made my may to the main street where a procession of thousands were walking down the road. Since I had been to Haridwar a few years earlier, I was confused as to why everyone was walking away from the river and so I asked a young Indian man about this. “The police have blocked off the quickest way to the river so everyone has to walk this way around and then go back” was his response. Shaking my head and laughing, I joined the never-ending line of people and followed the procession away from where we all wanted to go.

After walking for a kilometer or so we did in fact cut back towards the river like the young man had said. After another few kilometers and we arrived at a ghat (steps leading to the water) at the bank of the river. It was still dark but there were already thousands of people bathing in the water and making offerings to the holy river Ganga. But this wasn’t ‘It’ for me; I wanted to be in the heart of it all and so I re-joined the convoy and continued on towards the main bathing area.

Another kilometer of walking and I approached what would be the first of many obstacles. The police had set up a road block in the middle of the street and were diverting people away from the river. However, dozens of pilgrims were pushing through the police and the police were fighting off the crowd with their batons. The sky was just starting to lighten now and I definitely wanted to make it to the main bathing area before the sun fully came up, so I joined the group trying to push through the police barricade. But a 6 foot 3 inch white guy doesn’t blend into the mix in India and a police officer quickly had his baton in cross-check position on my chest, pushing me back to where I had come from. “Can I please get through?”, I pleaded. Of course, you know his response.

Not giving up, I walked to the left side of the road block where a little, elderly woman was crawling through a small opening in the steal barricade. I stood there for about 30 seconds and just kept looking at the barricade, sizing up the situation, and trying to figure out how I was going to get through. Then this gentle-looking Indian, who was around the same age as me, came up beside me and got my attention. He could tell exactly what I was thinking and so he smiled at me mischievously and whispered “Go!” “How?”, I asked him. We both stood there for about a minute and then, when the timing was right, he quickly grabbed the barricade, which was on wheels, and flung the whole thing towards the police officers on the other side. He yelled “Go!” Then he grabbed my hand and we, and dozens of others, sprinted through the opening and up the street; leaving the police officers to fight a hundred other people off and re-establish the road block.

I was laughing out loud and we were both smiling at each other as we slowed down about a block away from the mess we’d created and left behind us. Despite the fact that each of us was unable to speak more than a few words of the other’s language, a definite bond had been created. We were now in this together. He told me that his name was Naresh. I then noticed that Naresh had three friends traveling with him and each of them looked as gentle as my new friend appeared; you could just sense that these were decent guys. Each of them had a definite and evident wholesomeness about him. Naturally I fit right in with them… ;-)

I thought we were set now; we’d conquered the road block and surely we’d be at the main bathing area in no time. Of course I was 100% wrong. Every two to three hundred metres the police had another barricade waiting for us. At the next diversion there were again a few hundred Indians trying to fight their way through the police. Naresh once more grabbed my hand and led me away from the barricade, this time down a side road. The five of us then cut through a narrow alleyway, made our way over some huge piles of garbage and steal poles, and then squeaked through a small opening between two concrete buildings. We were around the road block and back on the main road.

At the next barricade we again cut through a side alley. This time we came out at an opening where a few hundred Indian’s were running across a rocky ditch, up the embankment of a small hill, and towards a huge chain link fence. Once I reached the top of the hill, I noticed that someone had cut a small square opening in the fence and so a line of elderly women and men were passing through this spontaneously created passageway. Everyone else was going over the fence. Men and women and boys and girls were all climbing the chains. Numerous adults were lifting babies and children who we were too young to climb over the fence and these little ones were being received by friends or family members on the other side. I was blown away. I couldn’t believe it – all this effort just to get to the river to bathe, make offerings to the river, and pray – it was absolutely beautiful. I was so grateful to be part of it and absolutely loving that my four new friends and I were totally carrying out our journey ‘Ninja-style’.

Once we’d crossed over the fence, we made our way to the next road block where we simply had to duck walk through a huge crowd going the opposite direction, un-noticed by several police officers. After making it past the police, we could see the huge crowd at the main bathing area. It was beautiful; I couldn’t even guess how many people were there washing in the river. The sun was coming up as we made our way through a man-made maze of roped off paths leading to the main bathing area. But just before we crossed the bridge that would enable us to reach our destination, the police stopped us and checked my bag. Of course all I was thinking was, “Oh no, not again” (see previous blog post labeled ‘Thai Cops’).

This time there were no problems with the police and they waved us through. As soon as we got to the water’s edge Naresh stripped down to his underwear and was down the concrete stairs leading to the water and into the river. I watched as he cupped his hands together and took water from the holy river. He lifted his arms up so that his hands were above his head and then offered the water back to the river by letting the water pour out over his finger tips. Then he washed his body before going fully under the water three times.

Once he finished his puja and re-joined us, he asked if I was going to go in. Of course I wanted to. I looked around and saw that there were other foreigners around but none of them were going in the water. I was unsure. Then I looked back to Naresh who was giving me this ‘you stealth-styled it all the way here and now you’re not going to go in the water’ look. Just then, out of nowhere, dozens of police started blowing whistles and dragging people out of the water. I couldn’t really understand why this was happening and so I just watched the police clearing the steps to the water. Naresh again looked at me mischievously and I’m certain that we were both thinking the exact same thing: ‘They must be clearing the steps for you Ryan.’

So off came my shoes, t-shirt, and jeans and I went down the steps and into the river. The water was freezing and the current was strong. I copied what I’d seen Naresh and countless others do. I made offering; scrubbed my face, arms, and chest; and then went under the water three times. After going under the third time I emerged from the river, toweled off, and put my clothes back on. I felt absolutely amazing. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful experience. I think I might even be enlightened now. ;-)