V
How the Sangh Parivar used the new class of sadhus and what was achieved in the bargain is no small feat. Using the Kumbh Mela to spread political messages has been the long-standing dream of various political groups. But even the most popular of Indian leaders, like Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru failed to connect with the akharas as effectively as the VHP. In fact, Gandhi was the first to use the Kumbh Mela as a platform for politics, but all his exhortations failed to move the sadhus even when the freedom struggle was at its peak.
Immediately after his return to India from South Africa, Gandhi made his way to Haridwar for the Kumbh Mela in 1915. He was quite keen to be at the great religious gathering and was eager to meet with the sadhus of Haridwar. He had expected a utopian world of respectful holy men, but he was sorely disappointed. Gandhi revealed this a few years later in January 1921, while addressing a large number of sadhus of the Swaminarayan sect at Vadtal village in Kheda district of Gujarat:
I am always eager to meet sadhus. When I visited the Kumbhmela in Haridwar, I tried to go into all akhadas of sadhus in search of a sadhu who would gladden my heart. I met every sadhu who had acquired some reputation but I must say I was disappointed. I am convinced that sadhus are an ornament to India and that, if the country lives, it will be thanks to them. But I see very little of the goodness of sadhus today. On the last day in Haridwar, I spent the whole night thinking what I could do so that sadhus in the country would be real sadhus. Finally, I took a hard [dietary] vow. I shall not say what it is, but many believe that it is a difficult one to keep. By God’s grace, I have still kept it inviolate.30
Despite Gandhi’s evident disgust for what he perceived as the travesty of modern akharas, naga sadhus were initially attracted to him. Over 100 nagas attended the meeting of the Indian National Congress at Nagpur in 1920. This session was significant not only because it passed a resolution on the non-cooperation movement but also because it was here that Gandhi seized the reins of power in the Congress. In the meeting, it was decided that nagas and sanyasis would carry the message of swaraj and non-cooperation around India. According to a British intelligence report:
Sadhus visited most of the villages and towns and the masses had a high regard for them, and thought a great deal about their instructions and preachings. When these nagas took up non-cooperation, the scheme would spread like wild fire among the masses of India and eventually government would be unable to control 33 crores of people and would have to give Swaraj.31
The report also added that Gandhi urged these nagas to ‘visit the vicinities of cantonments and military stations and explain to the native soldiers the advisability of giving up their employments.’32 The British government got so alarmed—partly because it took some time for it to differentiate between the ascetic nature of Gandhi’s leadership and the one it had encountered while dealing with naga warriors over a century ago—that after the Nagpur Congress, the intelligence department became increasingly concerned with the activity of people it termed ‘political sadhus’.33 But the naga sadhus’ enthusiasm for Gandhi did not last long, and they went back to their old world as quickly as they had come out of it.
Though Gandhi’s initial eagerness to recruit sadhus to the nationalist cause was extinguished by the overwhelming narrowness of mind displayed by the akharas, Kumbh Melas continued to attract a section of Congress leaders, such as Gopal Krishna Gokhale, Madan Mohan Malaviya and even Nehru, who saw it as a platform that could carry their propaganda deep into the country. They were not yet ready to accept that a religious congregation of this kind was too narrow and tradition-bound to act as a conduit for an inclusive nationalism. Thus, at a time when Gandhi was busy firming up his strategy to launch the civil disobedience movement, the Congress party was very active in the 1930 Allahabad Kumbh, for spreading the message of the proposed agitation through meetings and processions ‘wherein the British were compared to Aurangzeb and reference made to the 75,000 cows slaughtered daily under British rule.’34 It even set up permanent camps in the Kumbh Mela area.
In 1930, as the Kumbh Mela began, sanyasis played a leading role in turning the festivities into political rallies. On 13 January, a day before the first shahi snan, ‘fifteen sanyasis held a procession when they sang a national song at the Kumbha Mela’.35 The issue of boycotting foreign goods, especially cloth, soon became a central point of discussion at the Allahabad Kumbh. The support of religious leaders was important in making this campaign a success because they could qualify the wearing of fabrics made by the colonisers as ritual pollution, thereby lending a crucial religious stamp to the movement.36
Support at the Allahabad Kumbh had a cascading effect and the boycott campaign received religious sanction at several other Hindu pilgrim centres as well. In Haridwar, ‘sadhus and pilgrims led by Swami Muktanand entered into an oral pact with the Congress’ in May 1930 to abide by its call to boycott foreign goods, and in August, sadhus of Varanasi, enraged over the arrest of Pandit Malaviya, founder of Banaras Hindu University, ‘pledged themselves to support the local Congress’.37 Similarly, the Parivrajak Mahamandal, an organisation of sadhus, ‘did not delay in associating itself with the Congress propaganda from the start of civil disobedience’.38 Nehru frequently addressed large audiences at both Allahabad and Haridwar to capture the attention of ascetics and pilgrims.39 But, as it turned out, the Congress’s efforts seldom had any long-term impact as it could not sustain the sadhus’ enthusiasm beyond the duration of the Kumbh Melas. The pledges of these ascetics proved to be hollow and the Kumbh an empty vessel. The Parivrajak Mahamandal too did not feature in the activities of the Congress outside this religious event.40
This tepid involvement of the sadhus might have caught the Congress off-guard, but certainly not Mahatma Gandhi, whose disillusionment with the akharas and religious gatherings was cemented from the very beginning. He was so disheartened by Kumbh Melas that he mostly avoided them for the rest of his life. In 1942, during the Allahabd Kumbh, Gandhi passed through the city and briefly stopped at Anand Bhawan, the local Congress office, before boarding a train for Wardha, but he did not visit the religious gathering in the adjacent Sangam area.41
VI
Thus, where even Gandhi and Nehru had failed, the VHP succeeded. The transformation of the Kumbh Melas was nothing short of a coup. Moulding the monastic orders from within to produce a widespread political impact is one of VHP’s biggest accomplishments. The extent of its impact on the world of sadhus can only be understood over time. However, this much is clear: the sadhus with RSS links have largely succeeded in controlling the thought processes of the majority of the Hindu monastic orders.
‘There was a time, and not so long ago, when sadhus and the Sangh used to speak in different languages as the priorities of the two were vastly different. Sadhus with an RSS background used to have more clarity with regard to challenges the Hindu religion faced and they were more concerned about issues related to national security and national pride than other members of the community,’ said Vijay Kaushal Maharaj, Vrindavan-based pracharak-turned-sadhu. ‘In course of time, however, the situation has changed. Interactions in the last few decades have flattened out all distinctions among sadhus. Now most of the sadhus, irrespective of whether they come from an RSS background or not, speak the same language.’
The political motivation of the majority of sadhus today is straightforward: to make India a ‘Hindu Rashtra’ in which they hope to attain the status of an ecclesiastical headquarter. This signifies the emergence of what seemed rather hard to imagine even a few decades ago—the making of political Hinduism in secular India. The RSS’s role in this is undeniable and so is its presence in the ascetic community—a presence that has turned a certain section of sadhus into a spiritual machine.
The efficacy of this machine was put to test in 2013, when the Sangh Parivar was in the midst of planning for the Narendra Modi-led Lok Sabha election campaign. The RSS organised a three-day conference of select sadhus in its Nagpur headquarters.
The conference devised religious idioms that would resonate well with the electorate. ‘Over fifty sanyasis, including mahamandaleshwars, who had formerly been RSS pracharaks, attended the meeting, and nearly thirty-five such religious leaders could not turn up because of personal reasons,’ Yatindranand Giri, who presided over two of its sessions, told me. ‘The meeting continued for three days and we discussed ways in which sanyasis could play a role in uniting Hindus and bringing tribals close to the Sangh Parivar. All the central office-bearers of the RSS, including sarsanghchalak Mohan Bhagwat, were present throughout the conference.’
It is difficult to predict or learn what effect these sadhus had on the elections, given that an election outcome is dependent on numerous factors. But the BJP did win a landslide victory in the Lok Sabha elections that followed.
The influx of RSS cadres into the world of sadhus seems set to continue. In the present day, the spread of modern education and proliferation of other sources of income has meant that Hindu monastic orders no longer get enough new entrants. RSS pracharaks, though, are a readymade breeding ground for Hindu asceticism. Pracharaks perhaps begin with idealism, setting out to steer the nation towards the RSS’s vision and protect what they are taught is the true nature of Hinduism, all the while living the life of a wanderer and surviving on contributions from swayamsevaks. When the initial enthusiasm starts to fade, their options are limited to either making a U-turn and becoming householders or shifting to active politics. But not everyone can easily make that switch. For those who can’t, Hindu asceticism offers a sustained source of income and sometimes even the possibility of crawling up the ladder if they can muster clout with the Sangh Parivar.
4
THE BROKEN LEG TEST
Where do they all come from, this weird tribe? Wearing nothing but garlands of marigold on their ash-smeared bodies. Shrieking with joy as they march in the shahi julus for a holy dip at the prescribed auspicious time during the Kumbh Mela, on the command of Jupiter’s twelve-year cycle. And where do they all vanish, once the Kumbh ends? Do they really go back to their mythical confinement—perhaps cold caves in the Himalayas—after tasting the amrit, the nectar of immortality? Legend has it that when the gods were transporting a kumbh, or urn, filled with amrit to hide it from the demons, drops of it fell at four places—Allahabad, Haridwar, Nasik and Ujjain—where the Kumbh Mela is now celebrated.
But what happens if one decides, before these nagas vanish after the Kumbh, to take a closer look?
On 4 February 2013, just when the Kumbh Mela in Allahabad was at its peak, the media blew the lid off this spectacle, reporting that ‘many akharas’ were parading ‘fake nagas’ during the shahi julus.1 The procession of naked men, the biggest attraction of the fair, appeared to be a stage-managed act rather than an impromptu gathering of nagas moved by a divine calling.
But it led to nothing. No akhara responded to the news reports nor did the devotees seem affected. The Allahabad Kumbh’s last two shahi snans, which were held after the news broke, were normal as could be; nagas continued their processions in the barricaded track, while devotees continued to jostle for a glimpse.
This shocking discovery, however, was not exactly new. Nearly six decades ago, there were similar revelations in the aftermath of a tragedy that struck the Allahabad Kumbh in 1954. Several hundred pilgrims, mostly women and children, were killed in a stampede, while thousands others were injured. An enquiry committee set up by the government a couple of days later, apart from examining the reasons for the mishap, also scrutinised the organisation of the shahi julus.
The Kumbh Tragedy Enquiry Committee noted, ‘Some of the naked men who join these processions are men who ordinarily wear clothes but agree, on payment, to join the group of naked men in the processions,’2 indicating that the akharas had hired non-nagas for money in order to inflate the number of nagas in the procession.
While the committee was recording testimonies for its report, this closely guarded secret of Dasanami akharas was laid bare by the media as well. Scholar Kama Maclean, referring to media reports in the aftermath of the Kumbh tragedy, writes: ‘The revelation that some sadhus had been paid to parade naked (to inflate an akhara’s numbers and importance), not just in 1954 mela but at previous Kumbhs as well, did not help the sadhus’ cause [before the enquiry committee], as it made them appear disingenuous and overly obsessed with their processions.’3
From the outside, it is hard to understand who, precisely, benefits from the parade of naked ascetics. But the Dasanami akharas have been long aware of the importance of maintaining the public’s belief to fuel their own sustenance. The Kumbh Mela, to these akharas, is an occasion for the nagas to collectively showcase the strength they claim to have wielded through the ages. That strength is their unique selling point—it is not enough that they once possessed it; they must be seen to possess it now as well. This mythical strength has to be demonstrated, even if symbolically, from time to time in order to retain the devotees’ awe. Their image as a wild throwback to a pre-modern form of asceticism is central to this.
And thus the shahi julus taken out for the shahi snan must continue to remain enigmatic and awe-inspiring for the devotees, onlookers and tourists, even if it requires staging the Kumbh.
II
To understand how the Kumbh is orchestrated and by whom, I visited Haridwar. On a bright afternoon in October 2012, as I stood in a relatively quiet corner of Har-ki-Pauri, the holy city’s main bathing ghat on river Ganga, two alms-seekers seated close to me were making plans to visit the Allahabad Kumbh to begin in two months. The younger of the pair, who had a slight body and a soft face framed by a scanty black beard and a halo of long curly black hair, said to his companion, ‘We should go to Prayag [ancient name for Allahabad] at least a week before the Mela.’4
His companion, a taller, bigger, bearded man who seemed to be in his fifties, with white hair peeking out from under his grey turban, replied softly, ‘Ilam wants to go after the first snan.’
‘Maharaj, can I sit down here?’ I asked the pair.
Neither of them showed any interest in me. I sat down nevertheless and asked again, ‘Do you attend every Kumbh Mela?’
The elder one, who later introduced himself as Kanhaiya Lal, removed his turban to scratch his head, and white hair flowed over his face. Initially, he kept his eyes down and his thoughts to himself. He then removed a cotton pouch from beneath the plastic sheet he was sitting on, silently filled his chillum, lit it and took a heavy drag, looking straight at me. ‘Of course, everyone here will go to Prayag,’ he said, passing the chillum to his younger companion.
‘To bathe at the Sangam?’ I asked casually.
He remained quiet.
The younger one, Gopal, pitched in. ‘No,’ he said, returning the chillum to Kanhaiya and blowing smoke out through his nostrils. ‘We will go there as guests of the nagas.’
‘Guests of the nagas?’ I was puzzled.
But neither of them said anything more. Gopal got up, picking up a stainless steel glass and walked away. I looked at Kanhaiya, but he too appeared to be getting ready to leave. The conversation had ended; they were no longer interested in continuing with it. Although I did not understand what Gopal had said, the expression he used—guests of nagas—made me curious.
The next morning, I encountered them again at the same spot. Kanhaiya was more forthcoming; perhaps the previous day’s acquaintance had made him less wary of me. I spoke to him for over two hours, trying to understand what Gopal had meant by ‘guests of nagas’. I also met two of their friends—Ilam and Ballu—that day. Soon, it became clear that these four alms-seekers were among those who had helped inflate the contingent of the naga army during the previous Kumbh Mela held in Haridwar in 2010 and were planning to repeat the act in Allahabad this year.
Kanhaiya and his friends said that many Dasanami akharas had been hiring alms-seekers in Haridwar to be paraded as part of their naga armies. ‘The first time I was invited to stay in the camp of a Dasana
mi akhara was in 2010,’ recounted Kanhaiya. ‘It all happened suddenly. Just before the Kumbh Mela, the police swooped down on us and asked all alms-seekers to vacate the ghat. Around the same time, a Dasanami akhara invited us to stay in its camp and have meals in its bhandaras. I accepted the invitation, so did most of my friends here. The akhara had started bhandaras almost a fortnight before the beginning of the [Haridwar] Kumbh. During the feast, they told us that those participating in the shahi julus would get dakshina. It was not a bad idea, and this is how we started becoming nagas during the shahi snans.’
For the upcoming Kumbh, Kanhaiya informed me, he and his friends had already received invitations from two prominent Dasanami akharas. He claimed that he had been staying at the ghat in Haridwar for over three decades but it was only during the 2010 Kumbh that he and his friends took part in the akharas’ shahi julus and received remuneration for their services.
III
Through these conversations I developed an initial understanding of how the Kumbh is staged. Still, I was sceptical. The claims of Kanhaiya and his friends were not backed by proof. Confirming these claims in the secretive world of akharas seemed impossible.
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