CHAPTER III

THE MYSTICAL HINDUS

OUR little party of four, a Christian missionary, his two children, and the writer, started very early one morning by rail in a third-class carriage for Hardwar to witness the great Hindu mela, which continues almost uninterruptedly here throughout the year, for it is at this place that the holy Ganges pours fresh from the Himalayas. It is said that the famous river flows through the god Shiva's hair at its source in the mountains, hence its waters are very sacred and especially so near the springs themselves. The train was crowded with the ghostly forms of sleeping pilgrims, all seeking merit in a visit to the river, where they were soon to engage in earnest devotions, washing away their sins in the sacred stream. It was still early when the guard called "Hardwar" and we alighted from the train. After a hurried breakfast in a dak bungalow we joined the procession of pilgrims and marched down the dusty road to the river itself. Already hundreds were bathing at the ghats, the holy men had taken up their positions by the roadside, and the Brahman priests were chanting their ritual. No one can do justice to a mela by mere description. It needs to be seen to be adequately appreciated. Such a

gathering seems to be a kind of cross between an American county fair and an old-fashioned camp meeting. A mela is a religious affair, but it also has other important characteristics, for it combines with the devotions a great deal of recreation, social intercourse, and even a fair amount of business. Hindu pilgrims come for miles to attend these religious festivals, where they not only bathe and pay their vows but also meet their friends and engage in a general good time.

Among the most interesting features at such a gathering are the fakirs, or "holy men," already mentioned. These half-naked individuals, covered with coatings of ashes, are generally to be seen sitting within a circle of slow-burning cowdung fires. All around them are devout followers, some bowing prostrate, others looking on in wonder and admiration. At a mela in another city we saw among the fakirs a woman priestess. Before her was a group of her own sex busy consulting as to the great questions of religion, and doubtless, also as to the practical problems of their everyday lives. On her head she wore a gigantic stack of false hair made of rope, and her body, covered with ashes, was scantily clad in a few dirty rags. One only had to look at her shrewd face, however, to instinctively cry "fraud.” Indeed, many of these fakirs follow the profession largely for revenue, and do not command the respect of the Brahman

leaders, though a few of them are intensely earnest souls. At the bathing ghats the scene is equally interesting. Hundreds of devotees in brilliant-colored garments swarm over the steps leading down to the water, while standing up to their waists in the stream are multitudes of worshipers bathing and reciting their prayers as they face the rising sun. We wandered on past shrines and temples, stopping now and then to view some strange sight. Here was a man with a five-legged calf decked out in gaudy trappings. Evidently, the pilgrims appreciated the unusual sacredness of the animal, not knowing that the fifth leg had been grafted on, for they were making the contributions expected of them. Out under the blazing sun at another place there sat on a little cart a deformed fakir who had allowed one of his legs to grow stiff across the back of his neck that thus he might expiate his sins. Another lay under a tree on his bed of spikes. Still another one of these ascetics had held his hand in a clinched position until the finger nails had grown through the palm and actually protruded from its back. Finally we came to a figure meditating alone by the side of the road. We stopped before him, and with true Oriental politeness he made us feel that we were not intruding and seemed to be inclined to engage in conversation. The subject, of course, was religion, for with the Hindu religion is everything. Said he: "Have you ever seen God?