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A Pilgrim's Tale This past winter I went to the Maha Kwnbha to imbibe some of the spilled nectar and bathe with the millions of other pilgrims. I have had a spiritual connection to India for almost 30 years. I first journeyed to India when I was 18, to meet the great saint Neem Karoli Baba, also affectionately known as Maharaji. I stayed in India for eight years straight, wandering the holy sites, learning Hindi, Sanskrit, Gujarati and Braja Bhasa, as well as classical music, before returning to America. I studied the sacred texts and enjoyed the association of various yogis, saints and Maha Kumbha Mela followers. Now I spend six months of every year in India. I have attended five Kumbha Melas, camping with Krishna devotees who lived nearby. This year's pilgrimage to the Kumbha Mela began with a bathe in the Ganges River in Varanasi. Then, after a round of intense negotiations, we pm our bags into a taxi and headed about eighty miles upstream to Allahabad. Most pilgrims arrived on trains or buses that dropped them several miles from the bathing areas. Wide lines of people carrying their bedding and other essential items crossed the Ganges over a series of bridges constructed by the Indian government leading to the Kumbha Mela grounds. As we made our way to the confluence of the Ganges and the Yamuna rivers, we were joined by hundreds of thousands of pilgrims. The mood of devotion carried us toward the flow and the mass movement was peaceful. Tolerance prevailed. It's hard to imagine a group of Westerners that size moving with so much grace. The pilgrims became riverside campers. We passed sadhus lying on thorns, children enacting the divine pastimes ofRadha and Krishna and lines of beggars. Cities of tents covered some 30 square miles of sandy delta where the Ganges River had reced- ed after the monsoon season. Thousands of miniature cities arose from the sands, all large encampments for the various spiritual groups and their leaders. There were naked Nagas, dreadlocked sadhus, saffron-clothed renunciates with amazing arrays of sacred marks on their faces, and loudspeakers blaring in every direction. Many of the atten- dees were married couples, some of them came with their children. There were also saints, swamis, disciples, dharma bums and every conceivable type of practitioner-all there honoring a multitude of views and practices on spiritual enlightenment. They all •••••• converged to take part in this most holy of rites that has it roots in antiquity. It was a timeless, yet incredibly current event. I will never forget my first sight of the confluence as we made our way down the long sloping banks towards it. Men and women were everywhere. The only place that I did not see people was where the rivers were too deep for the pilgrims ro bathe in. A mile later, we entered the cool waters. They felt good, but only after walking another quarter of a mile did we find water deep enough to actually bathe in. Regardless of specific belief or practice, everyone came ro the confluence in the hopes of purifYing themselves and increasing their nectar, the divine essence of pure bliss that resides within each and every person and can be experienced with subtle insight. In other terms, the Kumbha Mela was really a gigantic spiritual party; a celebration of all that exists. It was a mass gathering of nectar-seeking humans: people had come from everywhere to be a part of the event and imbibe a few drops of nectar. Everyone had their own plan as to what they would use their nectar for. Some felt the nectar would provide them with liberation from rebirth, others felt that the nectar could give them wealth, fame or progeny. I believe there was enough to go around. As we walked the three miles back to our tent after bathing, our arms full of wet clothes, I felt that all our efforts to get there were worth the few moments of immersion. Millions of people came to this event withom making any reservations, yet everyone found food and shelter. The ancient Indian saying, "The guest is God," became true a millionfold. Millions of gods were in attendance and free food was being distributed to them at thousands of locations. The cold nights and hot days tested everyone's endurance, but resistance is one of the key ingredients to enjoying the festi- val. If you could rise above the discomforts then you could experience the Maha Kumbha Mela. As trains rumbled on high bridges over the Kumbha Mela grounds, pil- grims who could not find space in them sat on the train roofs and waved ro the mil- lions below them. It was a bonding event. We all came here to pan for nectar at the confluence of our own lives. 43

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