Opinion: What it means to take a holy dip

The Kumbh festival along the sacred Ganges river means something different to each of the millions of pilgrims who attend.

Raman NandaJanuary 15, 2010 06:54Updated May 30, 2010 12:18

Sadhus, or holy men, jump in the water at the confluence of three rivers — Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati — during Ardh Kumbh Mela in Allahabad, Jan. 19, 2007. (Adnan Abidi/Reuters)

NEW DELHI, India — Sixty million pilgrims can’t be wrong. But even so, I questioned the point of dousing myself with holy water from the Ganges that looked muddy and uninviting.

It was 2001, and I was living at the Mahakumbh grounds in the north Indian town of Prayag as part of the U.K.-based Channel 4 television team covering the year’s kumbh festival, which is an ancient Hindu gathering featuring holy bathing, prayer and devotional music along the banks of sacred rivers.

The Kumbh festival, which begins again this week, is held every third year. It rotates among four cities: Prayag (near modern day Allahabad), Haridwar, Nasik and Ujjain. This week, an estimated 30 million pilgrims — or three times the population of Los Angeles — will gather in Haridwar, for a “small” three-month kumbh. The duration of the festival, which has been called the largest gathering of humanity in the world, is dictated by planetary alignment and varies from one kumbh to the other.

The full or Purna Kumbh, which occurs every 12 years in Prayag at the confluence of Ganges, Yamuna and the mythical Saraswati rivers, attracted 60 million the last time it was held in 2001.

Then, a tent city stretched for miles. The food was strictly vegetarian. Alcohol was taboo. Marijuana, though not legal, wasn’t exactly frowned upon. You could smoke a joint with the myriad holy men scattered about. The whole affair had the relaxed ambience of a village festival attended by the poor of India.

Peering over the river’s edge, the water looked dirty. I could imagine it was freezing, though each and every pilgrim who emerged from the opaque waters had a glow of happiness and contentment. One is told that the Ganges, originating in the Himalayas and flowing all the way to the Bay of Bengal beyond Calcutta, is a sacred river.

Back at the Prayag campsite, I asked a priest about the ritual associated with this so-called holy dip.

I was told to stand in the river. Collect some water with joined palms and throw it back over my head as an offering to my ancestors, he said. The priest told me to think about my loved ones as I dunked my head beneath the water. It all seemed simple enough.

On one particularly auspicious January morning, I decided to join the stream of humanity headed for the river. Wedged between bodies on all sides, I was carried like a leaf atop the current to the river where I managed to find standing space in the ice-cold water.