Saturday, February 20, 2010

Ganga Arti in Rishikesh



The tears flow. They are tears of honey, I now understand. Just like when I am with my loving community at shul or sitting with my family around our kitchen table. They are tears of sweet honey.

Prem Baba started Satsang this morning with these words, “It’s only when you are empty that you can find the heart and put into practise what it tells you.” And “Relationships are the university of life.”

As we travel we transform our relationships in the world. Even our familial relationships strengthen as we separate and develop our selves as individuals. This city of Rishikesh is full of relationships and I am reminded of the chanting of “Shanti, Shanti, Shanti” My heart is with me always and I am in perpetual pursuit of what it tells me.

Tomorrow Paul and I will travel by local bus to Haridwar where the festival of Kumbh Mela is occurring. The festival is similar to the Haj in that literally millions of Hindus migrate to the Ganges to bathe and symbolically wash away sins. It is a goal for Hindus to make this pilgrimage at least once in a lifetime.

At dusk each evening there is a ceremony that takes place on the shores of the River. It’s called Ganga Arti. Last night we participated.

As we approach, I can hear the tambourines clearly. The voices clearly audible through the loudspeakers sound untrained and unpractised. I find the drone a little annoying. As the sun sets people gather along the shores. Others sit drinking lemon soda and lassies in cafes and restaurants overlooking the water. Rishikesh is completely dry. You can't get a beer or a glass of wine anywhere.

There is a fire burning on the opposite bank from where we sit. I watch as the a man lights his fire immediately after bathing in the waters. Now, he too sits and waits for the ceremony to begin.

The sun has set. The Sadhu washes his hands in the river. I hear a clear sound from a conchshell, just like that of a shofar, blow three distinct types of sounds. The ceremony begins. As the music continues a child of about 3 years old, a woman dressed in a bright yellow sari and 4 young men gather at the table to light the small candles perched on a miniature boat like structure. Cowbells are clearly rung. It is similar to the bells I hear at the various temples I’ve visited throughout India. I am loving the music from the harmonium.

As I glance to my right, I witness a young woman preparing her little candle as she bends down and gently pushes it into the Ganges. The leaders of the ceremony do the same with theirs. The small fires wind their way in one direction. It is the direction that the river flows.

I am thinking of Taschlich. How much we are the same. In India there is an expression for this. “Same… Same…and different”. I think about rivers. They are forever flowing. They are infinite and eternal and the water is life preserving. It is a safe place to put our sins.

As the fires flow, the music stops suddenly, people disperse, and it is all over. Tomorrow we will experience the same in Haridwar.

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