The Kumbh Mela of the South

Most people have heard of the Kumbh Mela that was celebrated three years ago in Allahabad. Even Mark Twain saw that spectacle in the 19th century and came away impressed. A little known fact is that an equally auspicious occasion is celebrated in South India every 12 years in the little town of Kumbakonam. This year, the function culminated on March 6.

As Hindus migrated deeper into peninsular India, they brought their legends with them. Rather than attempt to retain all their links with the lands they left behind, they transplanted their legends on to their new location so that they could continue celebrating their festivals. It is thus that Kumbakonam, and a little six-and-a-half acre pond there, became the center of legend.

Kumbakonam is a non-descript little town in the delta of the Cauvery river. Bounded on the North by the Cauvery and on the South by Arasalaru, the original town is hardly a kilometre wide and perhaps one-and-a-half kilometre long. The fertile Cauvery delta with the once-plentiful water supplied by the Cauvery yielded enormous wealth in the past to local landlords. The kings who ruled the area built several temples and the Brahmin priests weaved fanciful legends to connect these temples with their past. The water-pot (kumbh) that carried the seeds of the new world came to rest in the so-called Mahamaham Tank in Kumbakonam during The Great Deluge whence the entire universe was re-created after the Deluge receded. Every single place where the kumbh or anything connected with it touched boasts of a temple. So we now have literally hundreds of temples in and around Kumbakonam.

Other than the Mahamaham, Kumbakonam used to be famous, rather infamous, for its mosquitoes. With two rivers, several irrigation canals and a large, open tank in each temple, the place is full of water. The high ambient temperature of the tropics and the bodies of stagnant water make for the best breeding grounds for mosquitoes and until about 50 years ago, elephantiasis was endemic to the region. With aggressive vector control efforts, malaria and filaria have been almost completely eliminated and one couldn’t see a single case of elephantiasis today.

The Planning and the Trip

We have been reading the newspapers and magazines that are full of news about Mahamaham. Almost 30,000 policemen and -women are being deployed for crowd control. Free meals are being provided by charitable organizations. Some Muslim merchants have donated 50 tons of rice and are prepared to donate an additional 25 tons for public feeding. The local Islamic Social Welfare Association has its ambulances pressed into service and its volunteers are ready to donate blood as needed for emergencies. Hundreds of toilets have been built for the public’s convenience. The town has been sprayed for mosquitoes. A new water tank has been built to provide additional supplies of drinking water. Water has been released from the Mettur dam to provide water in the Cauvery and in the Mahamaham Tank. Two-thirds of the hotel rooms have been taken over by visiting government and police officials leaving precious little for visitors. Looking at the last piece of information, we decide not to attempt a trip to Kumbakonam.

Just five days before Mahamaham, on a whim we telephone a hotel in Kumbakonam about availability of rooms. As luck would have it, the very first hotel we try had just had a cancellation a few minutes earlier. They are willing to give us the room but want us to take it for two days instead of just one. Considering that it is cheap at $35 a day -- though among the most expensive in Kumbakonam – we take it. We tell them we would be there Thursday by 4 pm and extract a promise not to give the room to anyone else. Our concern now is how to get into the town itself as stringent traffic control rules have already been put in place and private vehicles are not allowed into the town. Officials are expecting up to five million pilgrims and have rented out fallow farmlands just outside the town in every direction as temporary bus stations and car parks.

Trusting our luck, we leave Chennai Thursday morning. Once we get out of the metro area, we hit the new road that is being laid to connect Chennai with the cities to the south. The old two-lane road is being supplemented with another two lanes by its side and traffic flows smoothly even where the new lanes are under construction. We are hitting speeds of 75 mph and more as there are not too many villages here. It is said that any roadside villages will have two lanes of service roads so that high-speed traffic won’t be impeded by villagers going about their chores in their bullock carts or tractors. Bucket shovels are also at work by the side of the road digging trenches for a 200-mile-long pipeline to bring drinking water to Chennai and cranes are placing the huge pipes in the trenches. The only sad part is that roadside trees are being uprooted to make place for the additional two lanes. I had hoped that the trees would form the median strip but that is not to be the case. Now the only shade in the area will be the meagre ones provided by palm trees in the farmlands.

Almost a hundred miles later, we turn off the main road for Kumbakonam. This is a two-lane road that goes through many farming towns and villages and one could see the Mahamaham traffic building up. There is plenty of ground water and a few minor rivers here so farming is a profitable activity. We pass through villages where the villagers have spread out their rice crop on the roads to dry. Slowing down for the villagers and their tractors, the trucks taking sugarcane to the mills, etc., we reach the outskirts of Kumbakonam.

The policeman asks us to take the by-pass around Kumbakonam and doesn’t allow us to take the shortest route to our hotel. As we go around the town, we notice that most traffic control police are from out of the area and so cannot give directions to us and we finally end up at the inner cordon beyond which no vehicles were allowed. We find a local who promises to take us to our hotel and we gladly pay him 20 rupees for his assistance. We are led through several side streets, encountering but one policeman, who waves us through after our assurance that our car would not leave the hotel parking lot till Saturday.

Mahamaham

The pilgrims are already here. Senior religious leaders have declared that all the 10 days after February 25 are equally auspicious and that there is no need to wait till March 6 to take a dip in the Mahamaham tank. We find pilgrims forming disciplined lines – assisted by the police – going toward the Mahamaham tank. The ritual is to bathe in the Mahamaham tank, then walk over to the Tank of the Golden Lotus in the Parthasarathy Swami Temple for a dip and then to the Cauvery river for the last dip. Pilgrims are also seemingly determined to avoid a last-minute rush.

Our hotel is directly across from the Someshwar Temple and just a stone’s throw from several other temples. In the evening, every temple takes out its bronze idols in gaily-decorated wooden carts (rath). In the case of one such rath, priests are performing a dance similar to the dandiya-ras of Gujarat, an unusual spectacle since that dance in the South is confined to women only.

The line of pilgrims continues well into the night. The next morning, I am woken up by the muezzin’s call to prayer from a nearby mosque. Shortly thereafter, the Someshwar Temple starts some recorded chant on its loudspeakers. I don’t catch all the words but every stanza ends up with “…eka daivam shivaarpanam”, which means that all the preceding items are dedicated to the One God, Shiva. After a moment’s thought I conclude that this is not aimed so much at Allah’s followers praying at the nearby mosque – after all, they are beyond the pale anyway – but at those misguided souls who insist on worshipping at the two nearby temples dedicated to Vishnu and who, if only they would see the light, might yet be saved from perdition.

We wander out to check the lay of the land and to get some breakfast. We meet some friends from Chennai in the restaurant who suggest that we should consider finishing the business of the holy dip that day itself because nobody can predict how big the crowd might get on Saturday. We agree that this is a wise precaution and plan on doing it around 5 in the evening. We spend the morning wandering around the town where more raths with idols are being taken around the streets. Some of these are about 30 feet tall and the overhead wires pose quite a problem to them. Also, these primitive carts do not have a steering mechanism so the only way to steer them is to get them moving by pulling on the ropes and then using a wooden block to block the front wheel on one side so that the rath will turn in that direction. The raths make their slow way across the town and return to their temples.

We go through the Someshwar Temple, the Parthasarathy Temple and the Ramaswamy Temple. The sculptures in these temples are fabulous. The mystery that has not yet been addressed is where the builders of these temples got the granite to build them. There are no mountains or stone quarries for a hundred miles and more in any direction and the huge stones had to be transported centuries ago through muddy tracks, flooded rivers and streams and thick forests. The legends connected with some of the temples are fabulous. Centuries ago, a poor brahmin spent his entire life in the service of the Parthasarathy Temple. As he neared his death, he realized that he had not married and had a son who would perform funeral rites upon his death and that his spirit is condemned to wander the earth. Upon his fervent pleas, Lord Vishnu assured him that He himself would perform his annual shraddha ceremony and He is said to have performed all the rites upon the brahmin’s death. To this day, on Diwali when the brahmin expired, one of the priests of the temple humbly assumes the role of Lord Vishnu and performs the shraddha ceremony, probably the only temple in India where such a ritual takes place. The name of a pious man which might otherwise have been forgotten after his death now lives for eternity.

The Vishwa Hindu Parishad is active here. They have posters everywhere asking Hindus to rise up and demand their rights. One of them reads, “Mosques are under the control of Muslims, Churches are under the control of Christians, Why are temples under the control of the Government?” Another asks, “Whom does the Hindu vote for? He votes for the party that will build the Ram Temple in Ayodhya, that will bring in a Common Civil Code, etc.” Every Hindu holy man -- and there are plenty of them in Tamil Nadu -- is either providing free meals for pilgrims or has emergency first aid stations all over town.

Around 5 in the afternoon, we leave for our dip in the Mahamaham Tank. There are supposedly 20 springs in the tank and one is required to immerse oneself in the water at each of these 20 locations. These are identified by huge concrete pipes driven into the floor of the tank. As we reach the tank, we notice several small shrines and large temples around the tank. Upon closer inspection, one of them is found to contain the statue of Annadurai, erstwhile Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu whose statue had been put up by his admiring partymen and which now has a wood-and-paper cupola (vimana) similar to those for the smaller shrines. I guess this is the Rational Atheists’ way of getting the gullible public to worship Annadurai who professed atheism.

The police are very courteous and direct us toward the tank. There is a huge pump at one end which in 24 hours replaces all the water in the tank with fresh water from the Cauvery. Though the tank is 20 feet deep or more, the authorities have pumped in only knee-deep water to avoid any drowning. They are also throwing in bleach powder to reduce water-borne organisms. The water is unusually warm and I wonder if it is due to the chemical reaction of bleach and water, the afternoon sun or the million persons who have gone through the tank that day. Police and volunteers form human chains inside the tank which is very effective in crowd control. We wander through the 20 springs and use a plastic mug to get some water from each spring to pour over our heads. We also collect some water in a large plastic bottle for taking back to Chennai to our friends. The local vendors are doing a brisk business in selling plastic containers and mugs to the pilgrims. We then walk over to the Tank of the Golden Lotus, wander in and out of the tank and walk about a kilometre to the Cauvery for the last ritual dip. It takes us almost 2 hours to finish the entire exercise.

We plan on trying to do the same thing the next morning at 8, since Saturday is the official day of Mahamaham. As we sleep, more pilgrims arrive in town and authorities decide not to enforce the ban on the holy dip between 11pm and 4am. Instead, pilgrims are allowed to go through the ritual throughout the night. This helps reduce congestion the next morning.

As we leave the next morning, the crowds are larger. When we reach the Mahamaham Tank, flower-decked idols from 12 Shiva temples are already lined up on all four sides of the tank for their ceremonial holy dip between 10:30am and 11:30am. Idols from four Vishnu temples go instead to the banks of the Cauvery for their theerthavari. The human chains inside the tank have divided the tank into three distinct parts and people are not allowed to cross the chains so that one is able to go to only about six springs within the tank instead of all the twenty. Due to excellent police control – who are all polite to a fault even with those who argue with them; they are supposed to have undergone special training for this purpose -- we are out of the tank in about an hour despite the larger crowds. We follow the crowds to the Tank of the Golden Lotus and then the Cauvery where today policemen in a dinghy are patrolling the river. I find that the water is neck-deep and one could easily drown here but no mishaps occur.

We return to the hotel to change into dry clothes and we want to go back to the Mahamaham Tank to witness the theerthavari. We turn on the TV and the crowds have swelled in the last hour. There is not one empty spot in the tank and the police have closed all access routes. Devotees intent upon being in the tank between 10:30 and 11:30am have managed to wander around among the springs and have evaded police attempts to get them moving. At about 10:30 priests from each of the 12 temples take the trishul (trident) of Lord Shiva and enter the tank. This is the high point of Mahamaham.

Twelve years ago, my brother had gone to the previous Mahamaham with an American who was studying in Chennai. I asked him what Carl’s reaction had been to the occasion. He said that amazed at the surging humanity all around him, Carl just muttered, “This is Life, this is indeed Life itself”. No matter how hard I try, I can’t find better words to describe Mahamaham.

Darasuram

As we leave Kumbakonam around 1pm, we are routed through the bypass road which fortuitously takes us to Darasuram with its famous temple. This temple was sacked by Malik Ghafour during his invasion of South India in the 13th century and it was lying in ruins till the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) took it under its care some years back. They have reconstructed the temple from the stones that were lying haphazardly and neatly landscaped the surrounding area. However, the main temple tower has been so thoroughly damaged that no restoration is possible. Inside we see wanton damage to most of the sculpted columns and friezes and an entire row of pavilions is still in ruins. It seems that the UNESCO estimated the cost of restoration at $500 million and expressed its inability to provide monetary assistance to that extent. The fact that the entire temple complex was once much larger than its present size is evident from the fact that the temple tank is now in use as a source of water for the village and lies outside the area controlled by the ASI. The temple to the Goddess Parvati is separate from that to Shiva. I saw some visible damage to a couple of female deities guarding the entrance to the inner sanctum. Their faces are rough near the nose, however the nose is not broken off. Yet the rest of the cheeks and the faces are as smooth as a kitchen countertop. How did the sculptors polish to such smoothness the stone that has resisted the invader’s attempts to deface them? What tools did they have? No one knows the answers.

Gangai Konda Chola Puram

We resume our journey toward Chennai. After about 30 minutes, we cross the Kollidam river on top of a dam built by the British about 150 years ago. A few kilometres down the road, we turn off the main road to reach Gangai Konda Chola Puram, the City of the Conqueror of the Ganges.

King Rajendra I who succeeded his father Rajaraja I went on a campaign against the Northern kingdoms. He is supposed to have subdued kings and chieftains all the way up to the Ganges and brought water from the Ganges for the sanctification of a magnificent temple he was going to build. The plinth area of the temple is larger than the temple that his father had built in Tanjore but he was dissuaded from trying to eclipse his father’s achievement in temple building. Hence the pyramidal structure atop the plinth has a steeper slope and the temple tower is about 160 feet tall as opposed to 216 feet at Tanjore. The temple was in ruins until the ASI took it under its care and is trying to restore it. One could see workmen on top of the tower and the smell of mastic used to cement the fallen granite pieces together is in the air.

Gangai Konda Chola Puram is testimony to British vandalism in India. The outer walls of the temple with its neatly dressed massive stones proved to be the ideal source for the foundation of the dam we had just crossed. Rather than attempt to bring stones from a faraway quarry, the British simply pried loose the stones and the magnificent sculptures with powder and crowbar and used it to build the dam. A magnificent cultural treasure was destroyed to provide increased wealth for the British crown.

The rest of the journey was uneventful as we returned through the town of Panrutti – which was to hit the news a couple of weeks later – to Chennai.

The Aftermath

Our friend Haji Hameedia had gone to our house in our absence and delivered a bottle of zam-zam water upon his return from the Haj pilgrimage. With water from the Mahamam Tank, I am now short only water from Lourdes to complete the Trinity of Holy Water. I facetiously ask my Jewish friend in the US if there is such a thing as Jewish Holy Water and he professes ignorance about the matter.

The triumph of Brahminical Hinduism is short-lived. A couple of weeks later, elections to the Parliament are announced. Two men cut a few fingers off their left hand in front of a Kali temple as a sacrifice so that Jayalalitha would be victorious in the elections.

Some days later, a woman – and a lawyer at that – goes to a Kali temple in Panrutti and whipping out a one-litre Pepsi bottle pours blood on the idol as a sacrificial offering for the victory of Jayalalitha. It turns out that she has called news reporters to the temple so that the event would get publicized. She claims that she had gone to a hospital and asked the staff there to draw out her blood for this purpose.

The next day, the papers report that police who came to investigate have some doubts about the whole affair. No reputable hospital would draw more than a pint of blood at a time from a human and the blood had not clotted during the trip from the hospital. Police are investigating if it was blood of human or animal origin or even just colored water. Priests at the temple have decided to bathe the idol in milk to cleanse it of any pollution caused by the blood.

More Kali temples resume their pig-stickings and goat killings. Life, albeit with mutilations – and Death – return to the temples in Tamil Nadu.