Allahabad/Offenbach, January/February 2007

Dear Susan,

As promised I try to describe the procession and the bath on Sunday (15th of February 07).

The evening before everybody got a little nervous. Who would protect the camp while the whole bunch was away? What to wear? How to get dresses off and on again?

What´ s this whole dakshina-business all about and how to deal with it? My biggest concern were the hours between getting up and the bath. Meeting at six o’clock at the dhuni would mean rising at four because the toilets were expected to be crowded. How to stand the chilly early morning cold for so many hours?

Next day Ganeshpuri Baba (remember the unique general manager of the camp?)

tried to wake everybody up at four o’clock. Some preferred to stay in their sleeping bags and didn’t care about bathing or not. So at least the camp got a little protection. The braver ones met after a short very early tooth brushing at the dhuni of the camp where Ganeshpuri served coffee and chillums before pushing us to the dhuni of Rampuri. Some more hours to wait. I tried to avoid any kind of thoughts (like “what are you doing here, my dear?”) and just did my best to stand the cold. About seven o’clock some movement came into the crowd, red flags were given to us and we were lead outside, where the carriages were waiting.

There were platforms pulled by machines usually used for farming. Those everyday constructions formed a line for the procession of kings. A red throne had been prepared for the Mahamandaleshwar (father of the family who took care of us, as Rampuriji has told us). Seat and background were decorated with some cheap golden and silver flitter. Soon the Mahamandaleshwar (whom I tend to call Mr. Bigshot and about whom Mataji the other day remarked “I don’t know him”) took his place. He looked a little bit discontented. Behind him stood a Baba with a big jata and imposing sunglasses. There were also two young chelas on his sides wearing bright orange turbans and holding huge silver standards in their hands. Proud and sometimes tired. Just like me.

Two Babas of the dhuni lifted their crippled brother and put him on the carriage. I like the Baba who can’t walk but has bright eyes and a wonderful face. For me it was more important to see him above my head than Mr. Bigshot.

Sun was rising.

On the other side of the carriages the Naga Babas were coming in a hurry.

Sometimes they had to stop. At those moments we were shouting with them “Hare Hare Mahadev!” again and again. While repeating this salutation to the big god over and over slowly the dynamic and the ecstatic parts of the event got an influence on us. An old Naga Baba with a big grin on his face and bad teeth in his mouth looked directly in my eyes.

Those are the rare moments of life. Connecting with an entire stranger for one second of eternity rises a spontaneous unity between two human beings who will probably never meet again. Same happened to me with a Mataji standing on another carriage and even though she was more far away we had the same intensive contact for an unforgettable moment. Very true blessings.

The young Naga Baba who was visiting Rampuris dhuni at least twice a day was riding on a horse. A group of sadhus swung their swords and showed other weapons, which seemed to be out of medieval times.

A small group of women wrapped in orange lunghis ran by. I just got a glimpse of the white hair of Mataji (remember the one who was visiting Rampuris dhuni the other day?).

“She’s like a lioness,” commented her chella Triveni with pride and love in her voice.

Slowly the procession went on moving. In front of us six or seven Indian men just with a lunghi around their hips were dancing and laughing all the time. We waved our flags and started walking behind the smiling dancers who never became tired to shout “Hare Hare Mahadev”. On our way to the bathing area (close to the place you’ve rented the boat) we passed the Nagas running back after bath. Most of them looked happy. Motions slowed down and they threw marigolds and roses upon us

Others crouched quietly on the sands, peeing and shitting.

Ganeshpuri Baba rushed us back to the procession, which was soon to be stopped, and even the Mahamandaleshwar had to leave his throne and walk the last meters on his own feet. A lot of military people were around and also volunteers in signal color vests. Nolan, Ossi and I did stick together. We found easily a place behind the lines for changing clothes. The air was thick by the sounds of whistle pipes. We rushed to the bank and I realized that my feet wouldn’t be able to touch the ground of Ma Ganga because it was stabilized with sacks of sand, which is definitely needed for millions of feet walking into the holy water.

Three quick dips. I wasn’t able to think anything, to do any kind of a tiny little prayer or to repeat the shortest mantra. After being hurried back by the whistles in the air the changing process of clothes was finished quickly.

Going back to the carriage where we belonged, TV-cameras were following us – probably the first whole group of foreigners who became for this moment of the 21st century a part of an Indian tradition which goes back thousands of years before Christ was borne –

thanx to Rampuri Babaji.

Meanwhile the dancers became even more ecstatic and some people – foreigners and Indians as well – joined them for a while.

On our way back to the dhuni we saw other parts of the ceremony, long lines of beautiful decorated carriages stretching up to the horizon.

I’ll never forget the smile in Neringas eyes. We fell in each other’s arms.

Nolan at my side like a very old friend of Ossi and me. An Indian lady touched my hands. We both were happy to share a precious moment of our lives. The young photographer from Moscow folded his hands and bowed with bright eyes to all of us. Soon the first women of the pack were hurrying back to the camp.

There would be a lot of wet clothes and not enough ropes for the laundry.

The event was over. The discussion of giving proper dakshina began again.

Hare Hare Mahadev!

Added on May 18th 2007 by ossiu:
Wollo and Christine shot a video during the procession of the Naga Babas, showing the first time participation of Western devotees in the Juna Akhara section. Here is a first glimpse of their video: