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Kumbha
Mela Story
The Kumbha Mela derives its name from the immortalizing pot of nectar described in India's ancient scriptures. Kumbba in the Sanskrit language means "pot," pitcher," or "jar," and mela means "festival."
There is something about the Kumbha Mela, however, that captivates the Western mind. Some people say the reaction to the Kumbha Mela is so strong because it represents the opposite of Western culture. Others say that it beckons the very soul of our existence, calling our higher self to shake off attachments to worldly life and step toward eternity. At any rate, it stirs the thoughts and emotions of most of us. Kumbha Mela represents all that is India, past and present. One sees represented at the festival all the great spiritual cultures of India. Side by side the ancient traditions stand with a modern, industrialized India with all the latest innovations in television, radio, and computer technology. I attended my first Kumbha Mela in 1977 (and again in 1989). At the time I had little knowledge of what the festival was all about. I had heard mixed reports about what to expect: reports about bad sanitation facilities, dirty water, widespread disease, and overcrowded living conditions; stories about hundred-year-old sages; stories about the magical waters of the Ganges; and stories about yogis with mystic power.
As the days passed, I encountered the wonder and mystery of this grand festival. There was more to see than I was able to comprehend. For the first time in my life, I experienced a cultural shock: not only was it difficult to adjust to the customs and manners of the Indian people, but I also found myself questioning my own Western values. The very foundation of my conception of life, the reality in which I lived, was shaken at its root. I was forced by circumstance to find a new identity within myself and to adopt a completely new value system. My Western values just weren't enough to deal with the profundity of this grand bath mela. What ensued was an unforgettable experience and a true understanding of the Ganges festival. I began to understand why millions of people attend, and I began to imbibe an inkling of their faith.
Trying to describe what people have never seen is difficult. I waited twelve years and returned to Allahabad for this festival. This time I was accompanied by a photographer friend. Equipped with cameras and film, we were determined to bring this wonderful experience to the West in some tangible form, We hope our readers will enjoy this video and gain an insight into the deep spiritual meaning of "the world's largest act of faith." Kumbha Mela Top
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Festivals have
always been an important part of life in
India, where a celebration is held for almost
every occasion. Some festivals are traditional,
like Diwali, the Hindu New Year; some are
ceremonial, like Kojagari, the harvest festival;
and some are religious, like Rama-vijay,
which commemorates Lord Rama's victory over
the demon Ravana. All these festivals are
held with great pomp and rejoicing. But of
all the festivals in India, kumbha mela,
the festival held every twelve years at Allahabad,
on the bank of the Ganges River, is by far
the grandest.
Kumbha mela
is internationally famous as the earth's
largest gathering of human beings. Throughout
the twentieth century, Western civilization
has marveled at the Kumbha Mela. Sensationalistic
and inaccurate journalism-reports of "millions
of ignorant people bathing in the filthy
water of the Ganges," worshiping pagan gods
and performing mysterious sacrifices"—has
given the Western world something less than
a noble appreciation of the Kumbha Mela.
Thus few Westerners have taken the time to
attend a Kumbha Mela or to understand the
esoteric meaning of this poignant event.
My first impression
as I stood on a high bridge
at the northern end of the festival grounds
overlooking an ocean of gray canvas tents
was that it was stunning. There were rows
of tents spread in every direction for as
far as the eye could see. Colorful flags
and banners waved gently in the sky. The
smell of burning wood pierced my nostrils
as the smoke of thousands of campfires filled
the air. Thousands of pilgrims bathed in
the sacred Ganges at sunrise, and dense crowds
filled the streets and thoroughfares.
Returning to
the West, I found my friends and relatives
unreceptive to my experience. It was
was foreign to their world. My words weren't
enough to paint a substantial picture of
this grand festival. I thought of Marco Polo,
who in the twelfth century had also traveled
to India and like me had had a difficult
time communicating his experiences to Westerners.