“The majority of kanvarias reach Haridwar by train or bus and resolve to go back on foot to their villages and town in northern India. One group for example had come from Meerut. They planned to cover the 175 km in three days. There were several women, stoically walking along. Apart from the kanvar, many seemed to carry nothing else.” – Maria Wirth
All over India, an interesting phenomenon can be observed. On one hand, materialism is on the rise, and on the other hand, spirituality is also on the rise. Even difficult poojas, like the Chhat Pooja, and arduous pilgrimages, like the Kanwar Mela, attract huge crowds, most of them young. It shows that in spite of modern life style and western influence, the ancient bond to the spiritual dimension is strong. The majority of Indians still feel connected with the invisible power behind the visible forms and to the Gods who represent this unimaginable truth.
On July 13th, the first day of Shravan month, the Kanwar Mela will start again. Two years ago I mingled with the kanvarias in Haridwar. I post here, what I had written then. It is still valid:
Sitting in Dehradun, I could have got the impression that the Kanwar Mela is mainly about traffic jams, and about young rowdies who want to race on motorcycles through Dehradun and up to Mussoorie, if the police would let them. Most of my ‘secular’ friends consider the kanvarias as a big nuisance and heave a sigh of relief when it is over.
As over one crore kanvarias come to take Ganges water from Haridwar during the first fortnight of Shravan, there are bound to be some trouble makers, as well. Yet from my own experience, the overwhelming majority are amazingly good-natured and cheerful, though they are actually the ones who have a hard time. The people of Haridwar of course also have to put up with great inconvenience, especially towards the end of the mela, when those who walk the whole distance back home on foot have left the city and when it is the turn of trucks, motorcycles and loud music. Around 50 000 vehicles entered the city on each of the last 3 days of the Mela.
The number of kanvarias has exploded over the recent years. In 2012 more than 12 million pilgrims came. The huge crowds everywhere take a toll. All the more, the genuine friendliness of the kanvarias and the tolerance of the Hardwar residents stand out.
I went to Haridwar during the early days of the mela and coming in by train overlooking some city roads was a spectacular picture. As my sister called just then from Germany, I gave her a running commentary of the milling crowds, dressed in orange, and mainly young men. I am sure she could not have pictured it. We simply don’t have an equivalent in the West. Maybe that is the reason why I appreciate and enjoy the atmosphere and my western orientated Indian friends don’t. They seem to be irritated and embarrassed by such display of religious fervour. Maybe they feel that it shows India in poor light. They don’t realise that this living spirituality makes India special in the international community. The western attitude of ignoring and even denying the invisible power behind the visible has made our lives empty and barren. Natural joy, cheerfulness and a solid grounding in human values are lacking without being connected to the spiritual dimension. No surprise that mental depression is so rampant in western societies.
In the West, we try hard to enjoy ourselves and to have a ‘good time’ on holidays. There are many options, like going out for meals, walking around street festivals, going for sunbathing to a lake in summer or into the mountains for trekking, and of course not to forget, the one thing many people live for—the yearly vacation in some far away dream country. And indeed, we might have a good time, provided nothing gets on our nerves. At the same time, a sense of futility creeps in. Back from a holiday, everyone is likely to say how wonderful it was. But for many, it turns wonderful only in retrospective, while boasting before friends.
In India, celebration and enjoyment are ingrained in the culture and mostly connected with the Divine. Almost all festivals have a religious nature. A beer festival like the Munich Oktoberfest is simply out-of-place. And an egg throwing competition, as it was held recently in some western country, and competitions about who can eat or drink most in the shortest time span that happen regularly there, leave a bad taste in India.
In India, divine power and sacredness are still taken for real and the tradition of doing tapas is still alive. The Kanwar Mela is all in one: enjoyment, bonding with family and friends, adventure, trekking, devotion and rather severe tapas, i.e. sacrificing one’s own personal comfort as an offering to the divine. There is a sense of purpose. In the back of the mind, there is the link with Shiva. “Bum Bum Bhole” and “Jay Shiv Shankar” reverberate. There is still the acknowledgment, if not a sense of wonder and genuine devotion, regarding the invisible power behind the visible forms.
This attitude makes Indians cultured, even if they come from a very poor background. They have certain guidelines they stick to, and being good-natured and accommodating towards others is one of them. This is not so in the West. Egoism is the main guideline there. I remember a discussion in psychology class. “Is it good to be selfless?” was asked. “No, it is not good”, was held, “because to express and fulfil one’s own needs has to be first priority to stay psychologically healthy”.
In Haridwar, I watched the unending stream of kanvarias walking back home, carrying fancily decorated bamboo structures, called kanvars, with containers of Ganga jal dangling at both ends. Even in pouring rain they continued walking. Several wore bandages around their calf muscles and ankles. One young man, barefoot, was limping. Even one blister would make every step painful. Two handicapped men pedalled along in their decorated wheel chairs. Some middle-aged men did not carry the kanvars but had two containers with Ganga jal hanging around their neck. Yet, although tired, all smiled easily and waved, while I took photos.
Strangely, even 20 years ago, there was no Kanwar Mela in Haridwar. Kanvarias have been traditionally associated with Baidyanath Dham in today’s Jarkhand. How did it happen that the Kanwar Mela became such a huge event in Haridwar—after the Kumbh Mela the biggest religious gathering worldwide?
“You know, in Hinduism, we don’t have fixed rules how to worship. Everyone is free to do as he pleases”, an old Haridwar resident answered my question. “During the holy month of Shravan, there were always people coming to Haridwar to take a bath in the Ganga and then they would offer water in the local Shiva temples or go to Neelkanth Mahadev near Rishikesh. At one point, someone must have got the idea to carry the Ganges water all the way back to his hometown. And then next year, more people did it and so on. And now there are over 10 million people who carry Ganga jal home to their respective Shiva temples. A new form of worship has been born,” he chuckled.
This flexibility regarding worship in Hinduism, allows also changes in tune with the times. Nowadays, many pilgrims make use of trucks and vans, yet in an original way. The trucks are only the support system. It works like this: Relatives or villagers get together and rent a truck for the pilgrimage. Cooking utensils, stove, provisions, sleeping mats etc. are carried in the back of the truck, and a wooden platform above the luggage is packed with passengers. Once the holy water is taken from the Ganga, it is, however, not placed in the truck, but reverentially carried on foot by the young men of the group in a relay. At least one man at a time runs behind the truck with a Kanvar over his shoulder and when he is tired, another man takes over. This gives a chance to older people and those who are doubtful whether they can walk long distances to be part of the Mela.
Undoubtedly, nowadays even young kanvarias are not used to walking long distances. Yet the majority of kanvarias reach Haridwar by train or bus and resolve to go back on foot to their villages and town in northern India. One group for example had come from Meerut. They planned to cover the 175 km in three days. There were several women, stoically walking along. Apart from the kanvar, many seemed to carry nothing else. Some had a small pack strapped on their back.
From where I watched the stream of pilgrims, they had not yet walked ten kilometres from Har-ki-Pauri. How will they feel after 100 kilometres? It is certainly an arduous journey. Yet along the route, several Hindu organisations and even some individuals offer food and shelter for the kanvarias and stands to hang their kanvars on.
“Those facilities were not there in the old days,” a man from Bihar told me. In 1965, as a 20-year-old, he had walked the 120 km from Sultangunj, to Baidyanth Dham. “The path through hilly terrain was very rough, often littered with pebbles as sharp as needles and we all walked barefoot. I had blisters as big as cricket balls”, he remembered. Had he wished for something from Shiva? I asked. “No, I had gone in thanksgiving. I had promised to do the yatra if a certain thing would happen. It did happen and I fulfilled my vow”, he explained.
Many of the kanvarias may have come to thank Shiva for fulfilling some desire; others may have come to ask for some favour. For many it is a special outing, physically demanding yet, ultimately far more fulfilling than simply ‘having a good time’, thanks to the heartfelt connection with their beloved Shiva. Bum Bum Bhole! Jay Shiv Shankar!
The Kanwar Mela goes back a long time, and was originally connected with two popular Shiva shrines – Baidyanath Dham, also called Deoghar, in today’s Jarkhand and, to a lesser extent, Taraknath in West Bengal. Devotees traditionally worship Lord Shiva with bel leaves and water. The tradition to pour water over the Siva lingam is supposed to have its origin in the churning of the milk ocean. Before the kumbh (pitcher) with amrit emerged, poison wallowed up that threatened to destroy the world. Lord Shiva came to the rescue, swallowed it and kept it in his throat. His throat turned blue and the Gods rushed to pour water over him to mitigate the effect of the poison.
And to this day, devotees pour water over the Shiva lingam. It can be done any time and with any water, yet Shravan month, which falls in July/August, is devoted to Shiva and Ganga jal is said to be especially dear to Shiva. After all it was He who had cushioned the impact of Ganga’s descent to earth in his matted locks.
During Shravan (July/ August), devotees traditionally carry Ganges water from the place nearest to those two temples—from Sultangunj, which is 120 km from Baidyanath, and from Sheoraphuli, which is around 65 km from Taraknath. The pilgrims walk barefoot through difficult terrain, carrying kanvars. The Shiva Bhaktas are required to maintain utmost cleanliness, austerity and penance. Once the kanvars contain the holy Ganga jal, they must not be put down on the ground.
Until around 1990, the Kanwar Mela was a local affair in Bihar and West Bengal and still continues to be highly popular there. Yet since the 1990s, the Mela expanded in a surprising way. Har-ki-Pauri in Haridwar, where a drop of amrit had been spilled during the chase after the churning of the milk ocean, became more and more the focus. Millions of kanvarias now fetch Ganges water from there, carry it in kanvars to their home towns in northern India and pour it over the lingam in the local Shiva temple at Shravan Shivaratri, which falls on the night before the new moon. – Maria Wirth Blog, 19 June 2014
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