The greatest show on earth

To witness this greatest show on earth is to see demonstrated, in grand style, humanity’s shared longing for meaning and transcendence.

Since I was about eight years old I was always fascinated by the mysteries of astrology, but as a young child it used to be a perilous disposition. If my father, the late neuroscientist, Professor Sir Gabriel Horn, caught me browsing the stars section of the daily “whatever,” I risked a severe clip round the ear. Such spiritual pursuits of mine were always frowned upon as a boy, but later in life, having had the good fortune of witnessing the phenomenal festival of Kumbh Mela, in which the schedule of a 30 million-strong gathering is determined by the relative positions of moon, the sun and Jupiter in the zodiac, my sense of being an odd one out evaporated completely. At Kumbh Mela, more than a few folk believed in the power of the stars and heavens as much as I, but such is the unprecedented scale of this mass expression of fervour for the divine here, that I found being part of it imbued me with a curious sense of rediscovering my lost spiritual community.

To witness this greatest show on earth is to see demonstrated, in grand style, humanity’s shared longing for meaning and transcendence. Whilst Indian culture highlights that there’s definitely much more to life than just Ferraris, and while life over here in the UK might focus primarily on living standards etc. the burgeoning of the Kumbh Mela makes one wonder if now is not the moment the two weltanschauungs aren’t getting together.
Although steeped in ancient tradition, the current scale of Kumbh Mela is a modern marvel that has become possible through a herculean effort of modern efficiency and know-how. From policing to sanitation to infrastructural development, the phenomenon of Kumbh Mela is the product of a canny state’s astonishing technical expertise.

Calls to my mind the dated idea of marrying efficiency-based UK values with Indian wisdom and insight that used to be compared to the win-win teaming up of the blind and the lame man, where the lame man who can see is carried by the blind man who can walk. Some might actually partly attribute the booming Indian economy to a beneficial hangover from colonial days that has left India with a commercially viable second tongue, and conversely that the prominent presence of the tremendously successful Indian community in the UK has meant that people here have spiritually benefited from being educated in the significance of sacred Hindu traditions. Not by chance did the UK recently vote in its first Indian Prime Minister. Rather this reflects that the UK’s population, by and large, have come to an appreciation of the many benefits of Indian mysticism, yoga, meditation, puja, natak, prasad, Bhagavad Gita, the holy mandir and murti, and now, the massive gatherings at Prayagraj, so momentous that they’re visible from outer-space.

But the insights gathered from the great Kumbh Mela are particularly profound. Prayagraj is a sacred place because it was here that a drop of the legendary nectar of immortality fell. In a way, the story behind Kumbh Mela, namely that the demons and the gods got together to churn the ocean in order to get hold of the nectar drink of immortality, seems reflective of a universal aspiration for deathless existence. Whether believer or non-believer, aspirations for immortality are in both. The attempt to be deathless through some ingenious means of preventing the process of biological ageing, for instance, could be characterised as a faithless party’s attempt at immortality, whilst the Devas’, or faithful persons’ prayers and sacrifices are his means to find immortal salvation.

From the Kumbh Mela legend we are informed that, without exception, every human being hankers for immortality, and why would this be so if the soul were not eternal? Indeed as soon as the nectar of immortality had been conjured from the waves into the hands of the gods, the wicked demon Rahu (cad and bounder by nature) became so incensed to get hold of some, that he stealthily disguised himself as a god. No sooner had he supped a mouthful of the divine beverage than Vishnu beheaded him. Which goes to show the risky lengths demons go to, to prolong their lives. The story may also be hinting that when it comes to securing immortality, you’re probably better off in the gods’ camp where you have the protection of the Supreme Lord Vishnu. Or, if you like, if you want happiness and liberation, make it easy on yourself and be a bit more spiritual, be faithful.

But, talk about inclusivity. As a devotee and translator of ancient Sanskrit dramas, there is one Sanskrit word which I have always loved. One that is most suitably ascribed to the great Gandhi. I am referring, of course, to the word “Mahatma.” Mahatma infers high-mindedness and broad-mindedness. At Kumbh Mela, one is thrillingly exposed to a cornucopia of mind-blowing faiths all coexisting in one place, and all are operating beneath a glorious metaphorical banner that declares “many paths, one mountain.” Despite Englishness, I am proud to be familiar with Krishna’s statement that “everyone follows his path in all respects,” (Bhagavad Gita 4.11). This seems to me the bedrock understanding of all the great souls, or mahatmas celebrating at this festival who accommodate each other’s differences with admirable broad-minded acceptance. One might say that Kumbh Mela is the mother-par-excellence of all inclusivity flagships.

Another of my favourite Sanskrit words is achintya, which means imponderable. To ponder the gargantuan scale of the logistics involved in organising Kumbh Mela is perplexing. One suspects the feat must surely be beyond mortal capabilities. One wonders if there might not be a divine hand involved in its success. That perhaps the very fact it exists at all is testimony to divine intervention. The 120 million pilgrims attending the 2013 Kumbh Mela were in need of some 20,000 toilets and had an army of 30,000 police to take care of them. Some days saw Triveni dippers dipping at the rate of 100 per second, devout pilgrims worshipping the river that has sustained, nourished, cleansed and sanctified their existence since God was a boy.

But the sight of so many joyous pilgrims bathing in the sacred Mother Ganges convinces you that this appreciation of such an interminable flow of goodness is an exultant expression of divine human consciousness. And a greater understanding of how we are all in thrall to a benevolent mother nature worthy of our deepest veneration, wouldn’t go amiss. Especially now. Taking mother nature much too for granted doesn’t seem to be turning out so well. And what an amazing tribute to Indian culture that it has been their great leaders of antiquity who have always led the way, bathing in Prayagraj’s Sangam and worshipping sacred waters since time immemorial.

King Ramachandra of old, for example, is revered as India’s greatest monarch, both in the sense of his being an avatar, and in the way he upheld and personally represented the principle of justice and fairness for all (Dharma) regardless of station. King Ramachandra is often cited as having established the first conception of Rule of Law, where Rule of Law underpins the guarantee of wrong-doers being taken to task, and arbitrary power mongering being curtailed. In other words, the foundations of civilised society and civilised governance were apparently laid by King Ramachandra in the first place. Since King Rama’s life constitutes the subject of the Ramayana, we may easily turn to the pages therein which describe the time Ramachandra his-self spent in Prayagraj, bathing daily in the confluence of the rivers Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati all those thousands of years ago, at the beginning of his odyssey. Literally scores of millions are following Ramachandra’s example at Prayagraj today, and the vaunted peace and order that prevailed in Rama’s kingdom certainly makes you want to take a leaf or two out of his book.

I have had the fortune over a long period, through my association with liberal Vaishnavas, to have been acquainted with the Mahabharata epic in detail, and the following words of its hero, Yudishthira, in the Vana Parva, always stand out to me as being the most incisive in identifying spiritual action: mahajano yena gatah sa panthah. Which simply means, for any who don’t already know, that if one follows in the footsteps of mahatmas, or great souls, one can’t go wrong. In fact, what is good enough for Lord Ramachandra certainly seems good enough for the likes of Richard Gere, Pierce Brosnan and Madonna, even—but a few noteworthies who have deigned to take advantage of the sacred waters at Prayagraj. I dare say what is good enough for them is undoubtedly good enough for me too.

Arjundas Adhikari is the pen name of British translator and traditional Indian theatre connoisseur Andrew Horn, who has spent two decades as a devoted Hare Krishna monk.