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Home , Badrinath, Devprayag, Gangotri, Gauri Kund, Jahnu

TO , Himalayan Source of the River

Religion Thesis Swarthmore College

Christopher A. Scott May 10' 1985 I

PREFACE

'I became interested in pilgrimage more than two years ago when I visited the source of the River (Ganga) in the first two weeks of June. A bibliography of background material had been put together in consultation with my advisor, Dr. Donald Swearer. Such an approach to interpreting pilgrimage I a socioreligious institution that occurs in all major historical religíons, synthesizes the analytic with the contextual. The ain has been to put the narrative of my pilgrimage in a broader perspective. In "Text and Context in the Study of Contemporary , " Milton Singer stresses the need for interpretive work that applies textual research to field observations. the Introduction opens with a characterization of I{indu pilgrimage I have derived from academic research. However, the degree of abstraction of the discussion should be balanced by the specific categories I introduce for types of centers and the special spiritual function performed by pilgrimage. I should note here my transcription of the rtirthr'ncomÍton1y written 'tÏrtha I --a transliteration. The introductory remarks represent an essentially introspective approach to the question of merit (punyã) and raise questions that require a broader societal perspective on pilgrimage. The social function of pilgrimage is examined after completion of the yãtrã to Gangotri. Narration of the pilgrimage along Ganga from to 2

Gangotri enters into discussions of important themes. Such paragraphs are set off from the narrative by justifying the right margin, such as in this paragraph. I look at the symbolism of water, of ritual bathing (snãn) in the river, and of the mountains. The unique combination of natural symbols draws to Gangotri, which is not associated with any major deity but is a tÏrth renowned for its location at the glacial source of Ganga, high up in the Himalaya. A discussion of the relation between 'tourist' and '' aids in identifying the pilgrims from travelers or 1ocaI inhabitants. The narrative of the pilgrimage and observations I have recorded of Gangotri are set off from the more analytical paragraphs by changing to an open right margin. The observations are aI1 recorded in the present tense. For example:

I have to express the sensatíon of being in Gangotri as powerfully as I can to give some idea of the reverence I feel for the river and mountains. We stay in &ht*, eat the vegetarian food they provide, and visit the temple for arati. During our time at the tîrthr w€ make acquaintanc e with several sannyãsTs (monk pilgrims) and sãarrüs (ascetics).

Sadhus' relation to priests, in terms of the sanctity both give to a pilgrim center, is an issue I look at in some detail.

In the context of conversations with sannyãsÏs about the mythical significance of Gangotri, I relate the myth of the descent of 3

Ganga. We then seek the glacial source at Goumukh (Cow's Mouth)r where I reflect on the origin of the river and of the life it represents. To distance ourselves from the crowdr wê trek over the glacier and climb to a meadow at the base of towering snowcapped peaks. Here, the feeling of liminality overcomes our group. I discuss liminality and communitas on a personal level and branch out to a broader societal perspective. At the end of the yãtrã I feel a sense of completion. Included is a glossary of Híndi and Sanskrit terms and their English equivalents.

The thesis would not have been possible without the constant encouragement of Dr. Donald Swearer, who aided me in arranging the material in its current form. I remember with great emotion the two weeks spent with Witliam Reese and Rohit Trikha along the pilgrim trail--from Rishikesh past Gangotri to Tapoban and return. In addition, I would like to profusely thank Jagmohan Mahajan, Diana Eck, Susan Williamson, and David Scott' who aII contributed to the collection of literature on which this piece' in part, is based. I am grateful to Bhaskar Mani and Utz McKnight for reading and critiquing preliminary drafts of the thesis. Those persons I learned from along the are lost to me now, though I must take this opportunity to recall thern to mind. 4 CHINA - INbIA ßoR.DáR

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INTRODUCTION

Pilgrimage in today ( tfrtrryãtrã, Iiterally journey to a sacred center) differs from common ternple pujã (worship) on several levels; namely, that the pilgrim separates him-/herself from the familíarity of home to achieve spiritual transformation, and that the merit field shifts from devotional worship to a renunciatory lifestyle. To phrase this notion more explicitly' tîrtfryãtrã is best described as an arduous journey to a place deemed sacred by the pilgrim. The sacred may be seen as concentrations t ot nodes, of pilgrim activity focused on two primary types of centers. The first is aI-tirth ¡ â sacred center on a river bank, ocean shore t ot kund (holy pond' lake). These sites derive their sanctity from natural symbols, Primarily jgf (water), parbat (mountain) and van (forest). Among pilgrimage sites of this type are Gangotri' Ganga Sagar (the estuary of Ganga on the Bay of Bengal) ' Rameshwaram' Prayag (rnodern ) and Kanya Kumari (Cape Comorin) to name but a few. The second type of center is mandir-tirth, or temple center. Due to the emphasis on (devotion) among so many , mandir-tlrth is perhaps the more pervasive of sacred centers. Devotees seek aarJan (auspicious sight) of the deity in

the sanctum ( garbaqriha ) and perform various rites' aided by "sacred specialists" (Vidyarthi, L96L, p. 111). Northern 6 temples witfr large pilgrim fields, i.e.¡ geographical area of pilgrims' places of origin, include (Badrinarain' (Vishwanath, ), Kashi's Golden Vishwanath Temple ) ' and (). South India has several maj or mandir-tirth centers: (AyyapPa), (Ayyappa) and

(Venkateshwar ) . Before proceeding, it should be made clear that 'jal' and 'mandir' are not mutualty exclusive categories when applied to sacred complexes, confi gurations of sacred tirths of varying degrees of sanctity. For examPle' the cities of and Hardwar, major sacred comPlexes of pan-Ilindu significance, incorporate both types of tÏrths. The Himalayan region of Uttarkhand is also a sacred complex with two mandir shrines (Badrinath and ) and two a1-t í r th centers (Gangotri and Yamnotri). Here, pilgrims bathe in sacred rivers and visit important temples, both as part of the same yãtrã. 'JaI' and 'mandir' establish a framewort *ithin which the entire phenomenon of Hindu pilgrimage is more readity interpreted. I

Pilgrimage is both a journey into the sacred realm and a retreat from the mundane order. The pilgrirn seeks the "center" (Turner, L973r p. I92), where the divine is manifest. Away from the profane world of everyday affairs and its passage of time' the center is the meeting point of earth and heaven (Eliader 1961r p. zLl. The pilgrim's spirituat 9oa1' then, is the transition from mundane to sacred, which effects a personal transformation from impurity to purity. 7

The journey itself is imbued with the highest degree of sanctity, necessitating a retreat from habitual time and space--to another realm , if you wiII. Pilgrimage is the process that effects spiritual transformationt it allows the particípant to approach the sacred safely and expediently. The journey thrusts the pilgrim into new surroundings filled with symbols (often natural) that intensify feelings of reverence as the center is approached (Turnersr P. 23). For instance' the sanctity of pilgrimage to Gangotri is bestowed by the tirth's location high in the mountains in addition to its association with Ganga. Both mountains and river become more awe-inspiring as we approach the source. A brief look at the etymology of 'tirthr' the Hindi equivalent of 'centerr' will facilitate my interpretation of pilgrimage in India today. Commonly used to denote a pilgrim center, the term tlrth has had an interesting development. In Vedic times, tirth was used in a different context (Eck, Tirthas). It was primarily a river ford, and also came to be applied to a bathing place or a place to draw fresh water along the river. The term has had a constant linguistic association with water, and more specifically rivers. A tTrth was 'ho1y' to local inhabitants, tor it was reserved for a special function, that of drawing clean water. To the traveler, the most co¡nmon natural obstacles along the journey werer îo doubt, rivers. Therefore, safe passage across the river was considered auspicious. As a result, tTrths became gathering places for travelers and local inhabítants a1ike. Here, the I water was safe--it was clean and fresh as well as safe to cross. Through tradition, certain tTrths gained popularity. Travelers from outside the 1ocal area took word abroad that these tirths were auspicious. Local inhabitants of an area traveled further to draw water or bathe in a popular tÏrth than they had previously done. Hence, tÏrths became gathering places for people who traveled there for specific reasons (i.e., beyond functional reasons of drawing waterr oÍ simply crossing the river). Consequently, sanctity was accorded these places by the numbers of travelers whose sole purpose was to visit the auspicious tîrths. Occuring over an extended period of time' visitation of tfrths led to popular pilgrimage. Eventually tfrth became equated with 'pilgrim center.' Symbolically, tTrth, which comes from the same Indo-European root as the English 'transition'' came to mean a crossing place in one's life. As evidenced by its original usage as river ford, tÏrth implies crossing or transformation. From being initially a river ford, it was later applied to a place of spiritual transition. It was the crossing point from the profane to the sacred, from impurity to purity, and from earth to heaven. In the words of Diana Eck, "In sum' it is clear that the tTrtha is not only a riverside bathing and watering place' but a place where one launches out on the journey between heaven and earth'l (TIrthas, p. 328). Due to this symbolic potency of tlrths, they were visited by the devout as places where the spirituat transition from mundane to sacred was safe. It has been done before by others so it wilt work now--this was the attitude of many. 9

To benefit from the symbolic meaning of tirth as a crossing point, it is necessary for the modern pilgrim to realize the nature of this crossing. To effect such a spiritual transition, a certain attitude (bhãva) is necessary. Before leaving home, the pilgrim makes a vov¡ (sukhnã) to 9o part of the way by foot. Many pilgrims approach Gangotri chanting and shouting the praises of Ganga. They consider it part of the preparation involved in approaching the tÏrth. The outlook required is one of optimism that pilgrimage is meritorious and that the acts one performs at the tTrth are truly meaningful. It is in this context that the merit involved in pilgrimage will be discussed. The pilgrim is convinced that the yãtrã and visit to the tfrth are purifying actions. Either as an atonement for some transgression commited in the pastr or as the appeasement of a deity whose wrath has been incurred' or as a request for some boon in the future, the pilgrim visits the tirth. The results expected may be derived from the combination of numerous reasons for going on pilgrimage. That is, the pilgrim wishes to wash away all impurities that have built up in his/her life as weII as ask for a boon. Yetr Solltê result is always expected. It may not be a concrete specified objective. For instance, pilgrims may visit the tÏrth just for general merit t ot simply as a purification. As pilgrimage is not obligatory, but a ritual undertaken optionally by the individual, it confers a certain amount of personal satisfaction on the pilgrim. The pilgrim realizes that personal effort aids hisr/her progress on the spiritual path. Consequently, there is no prescribed tTrth for an individual, for 10 the pilgrims have personal reasons for undertaking the journey to the tÏrth of their choice. Because of this open-ended nature of pilgrimage, it is an extremely popular means of gaining merit. I'or precisely this reason, tlrthyãtrã is thought to have originated among lower caste groups who were excluded from other means of earning merit, for example' elaborate sacrifices. Pilgr image r.¡as subsequently incorporated into the Brahmanic Lradition essentially due to its popularity. Today, tfrtnyãtrã encompasses all caste groups. We have seen that personal conviction and genuine effort may affect the merit gained by the pilgrim. This is recognized by all pilgrims, who realize that the most meritorious way to go on yãtrã is by foot. Yet to visit more tirths in a shorter span of time is also meritorious. In sum, there are no precise formulas for 'calculating' the merit gained by going on pilgrimage. It is a subjective matter that depends in large part on the individual pilgrims, what they invest and hope to gain and the amount of effort required to complete the pilgrimage. Motorized transport has decreased the merit of pilgrimage. Previously, pilgrims criss-crosed the country--aII on foot. The ease and comfort of a bus ride is seen as a cop-out by pilgrims who may stilI go part of their journey by foot. Visiting the four dhãm (main tirths--Gangotri, Yamnotri, Kedarnath, Badrinath) of Uttarkhand (Himalayan region of state) by foot from Rishikesh, a roundtrip journey of three months, is considered extremely meritorious. Bhardwaj, in his detailed study of Hindu pilgrimage notes, "The greater the effort required to reach these places, the greater would have to be the 11 conviction of the pilgrim and hence perhaps his expectation of religious reward" (p. 32). As previously noted, merit is linked to personal conviction and effort. Hence, pilgrimage is not an exclusive or esoteric ritual, but rather is accessible to a1l factions of the diverse Hindu society. The the rigors of the pilgrim's existence are intended to instill the correct blrãva (sentiment, attitude). J.H. Dave states that this is the crucial factor in making the yatrã a meritorious one (p. xxiv). Without an attitude of devotion and reverence for the tÏrth, one gains little by merely making the bodily journey. The mental pilgrimage--the psychological journey--is equally important. It is often said that sages in meditation are on tîrthyãtrã, though they physically remain in one place. They are 'visiting' the various stages of meditation where it is possible to cross into another realm (of meditation). The more dífficult and austere the pilgrimage, the more merit one earns for completing it. Certainly the progression from the mundane world through the center to the sacred is expected to be difficult. rrThe road is arduous, fraught with perils, because it is, in fact ¡ ã rite of passage from the profane to the sacred, from the ephemeral and illusory to reality and eternity, from death to Iife, from man to divinity" (EIiade, 1954, p. 18). Any measures taken to increase the arduous nature of pilgrimage will accrue additional merit for the pilgrim. J.H. Dave points out that "Acceptance of gifts is vehemently prohibited in the texts" (p. xxviii)' and that anyone accepting a gift at a tirth automatically anul1s the merit earned in going to the tiqtht This view seems to stress the renunciatory quality T2 of pilgrimage to an extreme, for an important aspect of the social dynamic of pilgrinage is expressed communally. A withdrawl or surrendering of worldly comforts ís thought to focus attention and effort on the spiritual quest. Many Hindu pilgrims travel with virtually no possessions. Although we observe numerous prosperous Indians with suitcases and large /_ _ _ bedrolls, others carry very little. and dharmsal-as (pilgrim inns) supply shelter, food, washing facilities and sometimes bedding as well as utensils. These facilities allow the pilgrim to lead the ascetic's life for the duration of the yãtrã. The ideal of the ascetic, who has surrendered worldly comforts and subjected himself to a life of spiritual and physical discipline, is highly esteemed. Shiva, also called Mahadev (Supreme Divinity), lives an ascetic's life. He is exiled to his mountain abode, Kailash, for cutting off one of Brahma's numerous heads. Shiva is always pictured in an ascetic's loin clothr sitting deep in meditation among the towering peaks of the Himalaya. The relates the exile of (an avatãr, reincarnation of Vishnu), his wife and brother Lakshman who wander the forests and plains of India for many years. They have no possessions, nor any permanent habitation, yêt their exile allows them to return home honorably. This mythic pilgrimage establishes the ideal for the purifacatory, transformative function of Hindu pilgrimage by venerating the ideal of the wanderer, the pilgrim' who returns home a ne\^¡ person. In leaving home for the hardships of the pilgrim's life, 13 the pilgrim is in some sense re-living Shivars or Ramars or Sita's difficulties. Mircea Eliade stresses the meaning of such human acts in connection "with their property of reproducing a primordial act, of repeating a mythical example't (Ig54, p. 4), Eliade views such an act as a step avray from the the profane, toward the sacred--a return to the center. The re-enactment of such hardships is welcomed by devout pilgrims, who now feel they are more an integral part of the mythical world, where divisions between humans and gods are not clear-cut. In the magical, ny thical time, "Irì i11o tempore' the gods descended to earth and mingled with men; for their part, men could easily mount to heaven" (EliadeI L954t p. 91). It has been noted that Eliade considers the arduous nature of the transition from profane to sacred a rite of passage. That is, only those who withstand the rigors of this transitiont be they physical, spiritual, emotional or intellectuaI, are permitted to approach their goal. Beset by such hardships, the pilgrim becomes aware that there is some transition. And the very nature of this primarily spiritual transition dictates hardship. Wíthout effort, one cannot change the course of things t et oneself. More specifically' the pilgrim must consciously leave the comforts of home and take up the asceticrs life to approach the tirth in a meaningful manner. Victor Turner suggests that this is the rrinitiatory ritual character" of pilgrimage (1973r p. 204). It is a trial I a testi once overcome, the pilgrim enters the sacred realm of meaning. The tirth becomes more than just a temple on the river, but an actual meeting point of heaven and earth. T4

Pilgrimage is significant not only on the personal leve1, but on the societal level as an institutional means of circumventing the pervasive Hindu social order. Millions of Indians visit centers outside their local area. Trains are often crowded with large parties of pilgrims. Barriers normally existing between groups of Hindus are to some extent overlooked. The rigid social and religious structures that classify Indians in normal life are loosened, in large part due to the liminal nature of pilgrimage. The tÏrth is what draws Indians from all over the country; it calls them from all walks of life, from all social and religious groups away from their normal day-to-day Iife. It calls them to participate in a new and different order where aims and goals are collective. All pilgrims hope to benefit in some way from darfan of Ganga. The benefit to the individual (at this spiritual leve1) is accompanied by a social interaction not observable at home, among the hierarchical relations that constitute the habitual. Such a social dynamic is termed "communitas" (Turner, I973, p. 193). Communitas arises among pilgrims, due to the liminal nature of the collective journey away from home in addition to the egalitarian nature of some pilgrimage rituals (snãn, bath or vãtrã, journey, for instance). Such rituals do not differentiate certain pilgrims, as do many other religious practices. For example, wealthy benefactors of temples or ãshrams gain merit through their gifts, while the poor are incapable of earning such merit. Further, temple services may often be closed to women or Iow-caste Hindus. Generally, male are in a position of benefitting most from religious practices. Pilgrimage is thought 15 to have originated among lower caste groups. Total caste and gender equality during pilgrimage is an ideological position, but certainly, it is true that social structures are more rigidly upheld at home than on the pilgrims' journey. However¡ changing such a situation means in fact instituting or initiating a new order, rather than sÍmp1y participating in communitas as it arises. In addition to personal, spiritual transformation, pilgrimage appears to be an institution challenging the structure of hierarchical relations that normally adhere among Hindus. 16

PILGRIMAGE TO GANGOTRI

Rising in the high Himalaya near Gangotri, Ganga pounds through towering cliffs in an immense mountain gorge before she flows tranquilly onto the Gangetic plain just below the sacred town of Ríshikesh. ". . . the image of Ganga is intimately connected with Himalaya. She is rthe child of the mountain' in a very real sense. For it is during the months of March and April--when the plains grow hot and dry and dusty--that the snows melt on the high peaks and the river, fed by a thousand icy streams t cãtries its life-giving water to the parched earth and its inhabitants" (Darian, p. 13). To the privileged few, this time coincides with the annual yãtrã to Gangotri. A journey to the Hinalayas is a return to communion with nature and the elements. It is a journey away from stagnant conditions in mundane existence. Who would not envy our freedom to take up such a pilgrimage?

It is in late May that we undertake the journey; setting out first for Rishikesh, the hub of numerous Himalayan íãtrãs, including the four dhãm of Uttarkhand. Rishikesh is choked with the frenzied activity of innumerable pilgrims. Though ãshrams and dharmlatãs ( pilgrim inns) are plentiful, lodging is scarce. Eventually, we are accepted at Prakash , filled in large part with foreigners like ourselves. There is a high degree of regionality among occupants of these inns. We are turned down at L7 more than a few, because vre are obvíously not Bengalis, Gujaratis, or what have you. Thankful for a place to sleep and stow our baggager wê enter the compound and find our room clean though a bit cramped for the three of us. No matter--\¡re will sleep outdoors under ths stars. That night, under cover of the brilliant sky, we seek the river that is so feverishly sought by Hindu pilgrims. 'Ganga Ma,' Mother Ganges, is the life-sustainer of much of Northern India, in a very real sense. She waters the three densely populated states of Uttar Pradesh, and West Bengal--together comprising over two hundred million people, or a third of India's population. Yet this physical sustenance provided by the river is inadequate to explain the veneration she receives. The spiritual sustenance provided by Ganga centers on the symbolic quality of water.

rrAmong the many symbols of India endowed with spirituality, water is the most sacred... " (Darian, p. 14). Foremost is its role as life-giver. In a country such as India dependent on water for agriculture, few options exist but to irrigate barren land with water drawn from the rivers. Rain cannot be relied on unless it falls evenly throughout the year. During the months of June¡ July and August, monsoons storms lash the West coast of India and travel northeast, bringing relief to the land that has baked in the open tropical sun for the preceding several months. People wait for the first monsoon clouds to arrive with much anticipation. Celebrations mark the 18 first rains of the season. But inevitably, the monsoons continue relentlessly for at least three months, lingering on into late September in northern reaches of the country. Rivers swe1l up to many times their usual volume and the people once again are grateful that they have a more constant, reliable source of water than the rain. For in the remaining nine months of the year, little rain faIIs. Pumping water from wells is dífficult and extremely expensive. Particularly for small farmers; and India is cultivated almost entirely by farmers owning tiny plots of land; this option is out of the question. Then to make one's living off the 1and, one relies heavily on whatever water is available. In Northern India, particularly the Gangetic PIain, water is drawn directly from the Ganga. For this reason, she is referred to as Ganga Ma (Mother Ganga). As Darian puts it, rrPeople pray not to water, but to the Iife within the water" (p. 17). The life-giving properties of water have been enjoyed by such ancient civilizations as Sumer, Egypt and the Indus Val1ey. Inhabitants of Mohenjodaro and Harappa developed agriculture, trading, religion and arts along the banks of the Indus. Their fascination with water was clearly evidenced by the larger extremely popular, public baths. However, pilgrimage to a river site (tirth) appears to be a later development. The epic and several of the mention pilgrimage to tîrths as extremely meritorious. Hsuan-tsângr the famous Chinese pilgrim to visit India as early as 630 A.D. noted the popularity of journeying to a sacred river for an auspicious bath. Subsequent visitors to India experienced 19 much the same phenomenon; for example Alberuni in 1000 and Abul FazI in 1575 (Bhardwaj, p. 76-77). A likely cause for the increased popularity of this practíce was the Purana, which eulogized the Narmada and Ganga rivers as spiritual wellsprings. In modern India, ". . . ritual purification by bathing in sacred waters is the most universal overt expression of Hinduism'l (Bhardwaj, p. 158). Let us examine more closely the ritual bath and delve into the deeper meaning it provides for the participant. The bather approaches the river with a reverent attitude, seeking to invoke the deities for sanctification of the ritual. fhis may be achieved by chanting:

Gange cha Yamune chaiva. , Narmade, Sindhu, Kaveri; jale asmin sannidhim kuru. meaning: O holy mothers Ganges, , Saraswati, Narmada, Indus, Kaverii may you al1 be pleased to manifest in these waters (with which I shall purify myself). (Shivanand, p. ix)

The bather may perform water offerings (tarpan) during the snãn

including: 1) -tarÞân r offering to the deities ì 2l -tarpan, to the sages; 3) -tarpâD, to Yama ì 4) p.itri-tarpan, to the ancestors. (Vidyarthi, 1961, p. 35). These are the spiritual protectors of any mortal, and are invoked for their beneficial influence during the purification. A variety of rites follow, depending on the motive and intent of the bather. The Matsya Purana encourages snãn as a mental and physical purification with these guidelines: perform 20

ãdaman (ceremonial sipping), eulogize Ganga by uttering her holy names (for example, Nandini, 'joy-giver')r pour water over the head with the right hand three or seven times, invoke the earth by scooping up some of the river bottom, repeat ãóaman, emerge and dress in clean clothes (Kane, p. 59I). For the inexperienced I ritual specialists aid in the correct performances at most ghãts (steps leading into the river built expressly for snãn). They call themselves ganqãputrã ( sons of Ganga) and are intimately familiar with various rituals performed at the ghãt. Professionals by family background, these ghãtia expect some fee for the services they provide (Vidyarthi, L979, p. 92). As mentioned previously, the intent of the bather is largely responsible for the effects snãn produces. Above aI1, bathing in the river is believed to have a transformative nature, by purging the o1d se1f. In the West, bathing in water is simply a physical purifícation. Certainly everyone bathing in the river will emerge cleaner. Yet, this is not the type of purification intended. Matsya Purana emphasizes the mental purification during snãn, implying a renewal of the spirit, of the whole person. Bridging the gap between physical and mental, Hindus bathe in Ganga for spiritual purification. This entails a transformation of the participant. It is interesting to note here the parallel between snãn and the Christian baptism. Although the latter is generally

intended as an initiation into the life of Christ I and is most frequently associated with infants or young childrenr the symbolism is the same. Water as fluidity is a symbol of passage, 2L for water is ever moving, it is constantly in transition. Thus, it figures prominently in transformation rituals. Heinrich Zimmer notes the "magicalrr character of such a transformation:

Physical contact with the body of the goddess Ganga has the magic effect of transforming automatically the nature of the devotee. As if by an alchemical process of purification and transmutation, the base metal of his earthly nature becomes sublimated, he becomes an embodiment of the divine essence of the highest eternal realm... The Ganges itself is regarded as flowing directly from that realm--thus the heart is conducted back along its blessed course to the place of the Beginning and End" (p. 111).

The river is symbolic of change, tor it exhibits both active and passive characteristics. Ever-moving, the river seeks to alter all that it encounters on its course to the sea. In the Himalaya, it pounds and grinds the rock over which i.t f1ows. Erosion occurs and Ganga carries silt to the plains and to an extensive delta which she has reclaimed from the sea. Yet simultaneouslyr water has passive tendencies. Lacking any characteristic form, water assumes the form of its container. It has the potential to assume any form whatsoever (Darian, p. 5). The movement and fluidity of water combine to allow it to change that which it encounters, yet, in the process, to be transformed itself. From its mountain source to its mouth in the Bay of Bengal, Ganga is a symbol of change to all whose lives it affects. Even the mighty mountains are not such monoliths as one might imagine--for the river has the power to change their form. The river is symbolic of the dissolution of form. 22

When immersing oneself in Ganga, the bather int,ends the same result to be brought about spiritually. The old form slips away and a new one takes shape. The life-giving power in the water allows the bather to take on the character of the holy riverr sâDCtifying both the ritual and the ritualist. "Emersion repeats the cosmogonic act of formal manifestation" (Eliader 1961, p. 130). After the old self is dissolved in the river ¡ à new person is manifest. The power of manifestation attributed to the river may also be largely responsible for the immersion of ashes from funeral pyres in Ganga. Cremation of the dead along the banks of the Ganga is a pervasive practice. There are several particularly auspicious places for this, namely Varanasi (Kashi), Hardwar' and Allahabad (Prayag). People bring deceased relatives from considerable distance to have them cremated on the most sacred ghãts. After the cremation, ashes from the funeral pyre are taken out into midstream by boat and submerged in the flowing water--a ritual attended by a priest whenever possible. Thus, the spirit of the dead is merged into the greater spirit of Ganga. Alternately, people who cannot afford to transport the body immediat€Iy, before decomposition begins, will hold the cremation at home and simply carry the ashes to the river. Others who live on or near the banks of the river and cannot afford the wood to cremate the body may just drop the entire corpse in the water! The river recreates a spiritual substance for the spirit of the deceased present in the ashes or the body. 23

After spending the evening by Ganga in Rishikeshr wê return to the ãshram to spread out our bedrolls on the flat roof of the building. Rising at dawnr wê proceed to the river for a morning of bathing. It is suggested to us by an acquaintance that we visit Lakshman Jhula after stopping at . Venturing up the road on footr wê try to thumb a ride as far as Muni ki Reti (a distance of several kilometers), but noiffi.tt stop for us. The sun is burning down on our covered heads and we stop often to ask for a drink of water from ãshrams, businesses and private home alike. Eventually we reach the ghãt where a long queue has formed to buy tickets for the crossing. At Muni ki Retir wê cross the river on a motor launch, jammed with people, f.or a fare of fifty paise (approximately five cents). Here Ganga is a broad river with a surging flow, evidenced by the technique of the launch captain, who initially aims upstream at an angle of forty-five degrees. Despite the weight of the boat, the strength of the current carries us back downstream a considerable distance to the dock. Out in mídstream, the waters are a wonder to observe. Composed of separate currents, each a different hue of milky brown, the water swirls around and under the launch and is gone, giving the river a translucent depth. In the swiftness and depth of midstream, the water is cooler, more invigorating than closer to the banks. Reverence and a certain degree of fear are evident in the speech and actions of our fellow yãtrÏs (pilgrims). A group of village

Hindus from the plains of Uttar Pradesh chant: "JAI, JAI GANGA MA!rr (Hai1 Mother Gangat ) as they scoop up a litt1e river water to pour over their upturned faces. An older woman, terrified of 24 the swirling waters, grasps the arm of her son' and is relieved when the launch eventually docks. She profusely thanks the boatman for bringing her safely to the other side.

The role played by the boatman is an interesting motif in fndian culture. Its significance stems from the notion of the river as a barrier between sacred and profane, much the same as the Styx, of Greek mythology. Thus, the boatman provides an essential spiritual service to the pilgrim and devotee a1ike. Reca1ling Eck's interpretation of tirth .as a sacred crossing place, it appears that the boatman facilitates the crossing safely. He knows the dangerous currents, the submerged rocks, and floods on the river. Through danger, he takes them to the other side. Ganesh Chaubey, in a delightful article titled rrAn Unique Organisation of Shaiva Pilgrims'r (p. 57), includes devotional songs sung to Bhairo (Bhairav) ' protector-deity of the group (pilgrims bear small jugs, kanwar of Ganga water to take home as prasãd to family and friends):

O Bom Bhairo the King' Take your treasure, O Benefactor' rowing to the other side. Smal1 the kanwar, O Brother dwarf the bearer. He started-Eõ-ET11 sacred water' at Kashi' Prayag. Of what is made the boat; what is the oarrs function? Which one is the rower who will take me to the other side? The boat is golden; the oar silver. Bhairo-baba is the rower. When, O Bhairo-baba, will you row me to the other side? 25

A literary example of the importance of the boatman is provided in Hernann Hesse's Siddhartha. Vasudeva, the ferryman provides refuge for Siddhartha after he leaves his life ín society to rediscover himself. And it is by the river that he attains that peace of mind characteristic of the enlightened. Vasudeva implores Siddhartha to listen to the river, which sings the song of life.

When Siddhartha listened to this river, to this song of a thousand voices; when he did not listen to the sorrow or the laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any one particular voice and absorb ít in his SeIf, but heard them all, the whole, the unity; then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: --perfection. rrDo you hear?" asked Vagudevars glance once again. Vasudeva's smile was radiant; it hovered brightly in all the wrinkles of his old facer âs the õu hovered over all the voices of the river. His smile was radiant as he looked at his friend, and now the same smile appeared on Siddhartha's face. His wound was healing, his pain was dispersing; his Self had merged into unity.

Muni ki Reti is a cluster of aEhrams and temples established by various Shaiva and Vaishnav sects of the monastic tradition in Hinduism. In addition to allowing pilgrims to tour these renowned spots, the ãshrams hold religious discourses on a daily basis, and provide social services for the beggars who throng the walk from this center up to Lakshman Jhula. Services include the distribution of prasãd (that which is given out by divine favor t ot food offerings), free medical aid and education, generally religious in character. Walking up the broad avenue, lined with shade-giving mango 26 treesr w€ are accosted by all sorts of people whose chief source of livelihood are the numerous pilgrims who pass this way everyday. Everyone knows that pilgrimage is a trade for those who offer pilgrims either or both of two things--some religious commodity, or the chance to earn punvã (merit). Consequently, the walk is crowded on both sides with distributors of holy accoutrements, sãdfrüs (ascetics) demonstrating their siddhl (magical powers) derived from arduous tãpasyã (austerities ), and beggars--some chanting the names of their tutelary deities, others simply displaying the wretchedness of their condition, hoping the passing crowds will take pity and drop a ten paisa piece in their bowIs. Some loca1 inhabitants view pilgrimage strictly in terms of the income it brings them. However, the items they sell must be of a religious nature, for pilgrims as a rule are not concerned with commercial goods. As a result, local people purvey sacred items such as beads and amulets, wooden staffs for the pilgrims, sma1l musical instruments for kÏrtan (music and chanting as worship) , Rãmnãmi-rumãl (ritual kerchiefs), and incense. In this wâlr they provide pilgrims with the physical items required for ritual in exchange for money. Others who benefit directly from pilgrimage are beggars. Pilgrims on yãtrã are enjoined to be charitable. Conversely, the pilgrim is supposed to accept no gifts for the duration of the

pilgrimage. Because the efficacy of pilgrimage is enhanced by a renunciatory lifestyle, pilgrims freely give alms to the poor. This act of dãn (charity) has its karmic results. That is, by supporting the beggars, the pilgrim accumulates punyã, which will 27 aid in the attainment of final liberation (mokla). I confront this spectacle of human exchange that takes place on both material and spiritual leve1s with a curious mixture of and contempt. I pity the handicapped and terminally i11 beggars--the lepers with gaping wounds infested with buzzing f1ies, the old blind beggars whose children have forgotten them and left them to die, and the young children born without limbs or with seriously disformed bodies. These are the outcaste of the outcaste. Hindu society, with its strict regulations on purity, has no place for the lepers, who often find themselves thrown out of their own homes. I feel a deep emotion bordering on pity and satisfaction when I drop a coin in their bowls t ot see an affluent businessman throw a rupee in their direction. Tru1y, these are the most deserving of all. Their attempts at living a normal life are everywhere thwarted by threats to keep distance, to go away, to hide the ugly malignancies that they want no part of t ot had no part in determining. What insight caused the spiritual leaders of o1d to expect charity from pilgrims? Is this the tradition's attempt to care for the infirm--by providing an instituion that in some small way offers assistance to those who are rejected everywhere else? Indeed, if everyone lived the life of the pilgrim, the world would be a more receptive, loving place. But there are always those who live exclusively for their own ends and care nothing for the downtrodden they encounter. Such is the nature of numerous participants in the pilgrimage trade. AbIe adults often take advantage of the 28 charity of pilgrims. Perhaps they can make the same amount in alms as squatting on the roadside crushing rocks for a local construction project, half the energy. They do not fra "*p"nd mind the humiliation of relying on others for a means of livelihood. But it is their duty, if they are indeed weIl, to let those alms go to the most needy. But the most despicable of all are the money changers. Though I do not wish to generalize, still most members of this group appear to be overfed, aging men, who lounge on pillows shaded from the sun by shãmayãnã, sipping sweet lassi, while their 'partnersr' the beggars bake in the sun. I have observed the following scenario too many times¡ a host of pilgrims progresses up the walk, and is approached by a runner employed by the money changer. rrDonrt you wish to show your most bountiful charity, and reap the rewards of heaven by giving plentifully to all these pitiful beggars?" (Or some such grand eulogy of the prospective client.) The pilgrims then approach the businessman, directed by the runner, and puI1 out from their pockets what each thinks she/he can give. For each rupee, the money changer returns 95 paisa in small coins. The pilgrims progress on their way distríbuting 5,10, or 25 paisa pieces, imagining the rewards they will reap; but without the essential realization that they have just given this pompous fool as much or more than they have given each of the beggars. One may sâyr rrBut everyone has to make a living," but this is robbery. It is betrayal, above a1t of the beggars, as welI,as of the pilgrims. For the money changer that night calls all Lhe beggars to his tent and demands that they sell the coins back to him or he will p1y his trade 29 elsewhere tomorrow. Out of fear and submission' most of them must play his game¡ only to find that he wants 1.05 rupees in coins for each rupee note he returns to them. His rationale is that he provides them a service on two levels. First, he associates with them as most others will not. Second, he provides the coins that end up in their bowls. He goes home that night to sumptuous curry and and the finest rice, while they scrape together the meager resources they have to feed a family of eight on a pot of coarse rice and lentils, or a few chapãtÏ baked on the open hearth. We proceed away from this squalor up the river to Lakshman Jhula. The name means Lakshmanrs Swing, aptly applied to this modern suspension bridge high over the river. It swings in the breeze, causing a considerable amount of consternation to many who cross the river. It is more of a'tourist attraction' than a 'pilgrim attraction.' A large group of local photographers, cameras strapped around their necks, offer to take pictures of tourists on the bridge. It is intriguing to note that everything along this pilgrim route smacks of relgion, despite its apparent non-secularity. First of all, the bridge is named after Lakshman, Ioyal brother who accompanied the royal couple Rama and Sita, throughout their exi1e. The epic journey, recorded in the Ramayana, was a pilgrimage of sorts. Additionally, the bridge supports and cables are crawling with monkeys who are revered for their association with , the monkey god who aided Rama in the battle against Ravana' demon king of Lanka. Though the monkeys pose a nuisance--they are so bold as to reach down and 30 snatch food from passers-by, and even bite those who resist--no one will take the responsibility of having them driven away for fear of causing a commotion. Rightly sor I think, f.or in India people's religious sentiments are deeply felt and the ones they will most vehemently defend. Let them have the monkeys! Practicality was never a traditional value in India.

What is the difference between pilgrim and tourist? Along the pilgrimage router âild particularly at places of greater sanctity (such as Rishikesh) ' we encounter people who deny they are pilgrims, preferring to call themselves tourists (taking the English word for want of a Hindi equivalent). Bharati explores this paradox in "Pilgrimage in the Indian Traditionr' (1963, P.

L44) z

Desire for emglation of the preceptors' total way of life provides a psychological clue for a paradox which is really but apparent: all the saints who have minimized the importance of pilgrimage have constantly been on pilgrimage themsleves, most of them having spent their lives as mendicants and minstrels who sang their songs at place of pilgrimage for the benefit of the pilgrim. Thus, it has become customary for the pious Hindu to go on , to believe in their merít, and yet to state that pilgrimage is not important--just as their preceptors kept doing.

I do not agree. This argument is based on the "pious Hindu" who tends to de-emphasize pilgrimage, not the Hindu who denies being a pilgrim and prefers to call himself a tourist. Second1y, Bharati is correct in stating that saints may have "minimized the importance of pilgrimager" but he is not correct in assuming they wished to deny its place in the tradition. I 31 offer several explanations for the tourist/pilgrim dichotomy. No Hindu views pilgrimage as a pleasant vacation or a pasttime filled with fun and adventure. First of all, one is under strict vow to have a fruitful yãtra, to be charitable, to abstain from sex, intoxicants and meat. Additionally, pilgrimage must be accompanied by the correct bhãva (reverent attitude). Finallyr ân over-riding ernphasis is placed on renunciation during pilgrimage. Ideally, one's entire journey should be made on foot. One may not accept gifts or take comfortable lodging. Thus, modern Hindus are faced with the dilemma: to visit as many holy sites as possible with the aid of modern conveniences such as mass transportation (even private cars), fine hotels wíth restaurants; or to undertake a pilgrimage to a single site in the traditional manner, involving a journey fi1led with hardships, while adhering to the strictest moral codes. Apparently both yield a good degree of merit. However, the modern Hindu is not a pilgrim in the original sense of the word. Pilgrimage is often undertaken for definite goals (good harvest, offspring, success in business...). The nature of the pilgrimage is well defined rituallyr âs to which rites must be performed, which deity should be propitiated. And the goal must be constantly kept in mind. This view of pilgrimage alIows no deviation from the rstraight and narrow. ' There is a certain obligatory character about pilgrimage that requires hardship. And Hindus who wish to travel with their entire families and take in sites of a more mundane character in addition to religious sitesr êrê not properly defined as pilgrims. Consequently, they view their journey more as a tourists' vacation than as a 32 pilgrimage. Several other factors may be accountable for the unexpected response, "I am no yãtrÏ, I am a tourist." It should be made clear that this phrase was invariably made by upper-class Hindus. In response to questions posed by a foreigner, it seems plausible they would want to come across as being Westernized. The majority of lrlestern travelers they have encountered are undeniably tourists. They feel it would be appropriate to de-emphasize the religious nature of their journey. Finally, central and state governments in India have capitalized on pilgrimage as a source of revenue for local businesses. Religious sites are billed 'tourist attractions' in pamphlets distributed at the various offices of the Indian Tourism Development Corporation and state tourism offices. Additionally, pÍivate travel agencies have found alI-India tours to be extremely popular with their clients. A group will charter an entire bus to convey them around the country. Visits include religious sites, major cities, and attractions of a non-religious nature. We meet members of many such tours along the way to Gangotri. So, in one sense, there is no strict division or 'dichotomy' as I had termed it, between tourist and pilgrim. As Edith and Victor Turner have phrased it: "a tourist is half a pilgrim, if a pilgrim is half a tourist'r (p. 20). Certainlyr though we are considered touristsr \¡rê feel ourselves to be pilgrims, even though we ride buses all along the route.

After returning from Lakshman Jhula and Muni ki Retir $rê 33 inquire about bus schedules up into the mountains. They run frequently in the morning only, from Rishikesh as f.ar as the first day. The Ganga has carved an immense gorge out of the rock of the Himalaya in her effort to find the plains and eventually the sea. The bus route up from Rishíkesh leaves this valley temporarily to pass through more populated regions but soon returns to the , the arm of the Ganga on which Gangotri is located. We bypass (literalIy 'the of the godsr ) where the Bhagirathi and Alaknanda rivers join to form the Ganga. The Bhagirathi is a srnaller version of the river at Rishikesh, but here, higher in the mountains, is louder and rougher and, hence, continues to convey the power and might of water. It seems 'dirtier', but on closer inspectíon, it is evident that this is just silt--minerals that the Ganga has extracted from the mountains. Along the steep banksr wê pass through a variety of terrain--terraced fields irrigated by culverts drawing water from the river, rocky wasteland with cactus and thorny shrubs, rich forests green with life and solid rock cliffs plunging hundreds of meters down into the river. This is the Bhagirathi, but everyone calls it Ganga. The bus stops at a minor mountain pass and the conductor gets out. We wait patiently to see what the delay is, only to find that he is making an offering to the mountain. Two coconuts, symbols of fertility and, hence, of Iífe, are cracked on a large rock by the roadside, and the husks are indiscriminantly dumped on a pile that is accumulating from previous offerings. Once back inside the bus, this prasãd is 34 distributed to everyone. As far as I can see, no one refuses, for the offering has been made in a common spirit of a$¡e for the mountains. Rounding a bend where several pilgrims are seated, resting from the arduous climbr wê come to a relatively calm stretch of water. A feIlow passenger who happens to be a resident of this region points out that a rockfall has created a natural dam which has backed up a considerable stretch of water. In 1978r ê huge portion of the mountainside slipped into the valley, serving to raise the water level by at least fifteen meters. Dead trees sprout out of the river and of the bridge that once spanned the Ganga here, only the top trusses are now visible. Unperturbed, Ganga flows on. Uttarkashi, 'Varanasi of the Northr' is predominantly a pilgrim town, with numerous ghãts on the river bearing the same names as their prototypes in Kashi. Its sanctity as part of the sacred complex is associated with an excerpt from the Mahabharata (Nautíya1, p. 27r. It is here that the five Pandav brothers escaped from the burning house of lac via an underground tunnel. Uttarkashi also derives sanctity from the brief northward course Gangar or Bhagirathi, takes in the valley. One of the auspicious attributes of Ganga at Kashi proper is uttar vãhirfi (northward flowing). Thusr the small town is indeed a recreation of the major pilgrim site further down the river at Kashi. Here too, $re are turned down at more than one ãshram for being foreigners. Eventually, we register in the Hote1,

although they have no vacancies--for this is the peak season. We settle for chãrpais (stri ng beds) in the lobby of the hotel with 35 assurances that our belongings will be safe in the care of the Sikh hotelkeepers. This proves to be my demise, for my bag with passport and camera is stolen the next day while we investigate the ghãt. This is the nature of material possessions--coveted by those with fewer, less extravagant belongings. The discovery of the theft is net with mixed reaction. Now I do not have to worry about upsetting others, by inciting desire to gain my possessions. Yet on the other hand, a foreigner without a passport is like a tourist without a camera. Will I be able to proceed up the valley without identification?

I seek directions for the police station, where I am received with a certain degree of curiosity. ltlho is this foreigner who speaks fine Hindi? Certainly if anything wins the police over to my side, it is my familiarity with Indian customs. I am relieved to discover that this police station has jurisdiction over the entire valley, f.ot the only way out is over 6000 meter into Tibet. Having registered the theft of my passport with the appropriate authorities r am now free to go. The bus leaves early the next morning. Again the road follows the winding course of the river. Here where the valley is wider, Ganga gives life to green fields, ripe with grains and vegetables. Encampments of olive green tents mark the presence of the Indian military. As recently as the late 1960's, Gangotri was not accessible to civilians, f.or the boundaries of this entire region were disputed between India and China, which took over Tibet in the 1950rs. Unfortunately, Lake Mansarovar and Kailash (popular tirths of oId) are now not accessible to any Indians. 36

Presently, we climb up to a higher altitude where she flows through gorges flanked by ice-encrusted rock. Avalanches on the heights have created ice-flows through which passage for vehicles must regularly be cut. But like the Ganga, these flows carry an amazing amount of rock and soil--debris they have collected as they crash down below the snow-Iine, stil1 more than a thousand meters above us. Water, sometimes tiny rivulets, sometimes gushing streams, issues from the bases of these conglomerates of ice, rock, soil, and minerals. It flows down past üsr ultimately to merge with Ganga. the further up the valley the bus takes usr the more sheer and steep are the banks. Mostly of solid granite, these cliffs have some cover of vegetation, Iargely evergreen. Abruptly the road ends--we have reached Lanka, where there is sufficient space to park twenty to thirty buses and as many cars--many of them taxis. A bridge across the Jahnavi, a major tributary to the Bhagirathi, is under construction, but is stil1 far from completion. Everyone piles out of the bus and walks across a foot bridge. However, the entire path from Lanka to Bhairav Ghat (the other end of the bridge under construction) is three kilometers 1ong, for it must find its way down to the foot bridge and back up the other side. At Bhairav Ghat we see two or three dilapidated pilgrim buses, that had been taken apart I carried piece by piece to this side and re-assembled! Even today, diesel fuel is carried over on the sweating backs of porterst ot kulî, to power these machines. This precious fuel powers the crowded bus that carries us as f.ar as Gangotri. The view must be spectacular, but I am unable to witness it, jammed between 37 someoners bedroll and another's bundle of clothing. Ilumans have slaved to create some place of their own herei to establish a sense of security for the millions who come from distant places. Yet, the mountains are unwilling to be conquered by us, with our efforts to carve out roads, establish settlements and provide even meagre conveniences. Despite the large volume of pilgrim traffic in the warm months, no one is able to proceed this far after October. In winter, Nature re-establishes her dominion. There is a strange relationship between people and the mountains--we ask so muchr wê offer so littIe. And the mountains are aloof, even hostile. The bus stop is simply a flat area carved out of the rock, below which are a few simple shelters. Falling steeply away to the right as one faces east, toward the source, are yet more solid cliffs. At the base of these in a narrov¡ gorge churns the gray-white water of the Ganga. Though not immediately visible, the river can quíte audibly be felt foaming through the rocks that form its basin. On our way to find food and accomodation, vre catch our first glimpse of Gaurikund, the fa1ls that are the real source of this penetrating sound. The sheer weight and volume of water coursing over the falls and battering the rounded rocks fifteen meters below is íncredible. lrte stand transf ixed, trying to take it all in--the awesome beauty, the power of the river, the thunder and misty spray it gives off; and even more so, the continuity it has with the surroundings, all so incredibly majestic. The rim of rock over which Ganga gushes has been r¡torn to smootheness by the countless tons of silt-laden water. The colors of the rock take 38 on hues of purple changing to gray to white to yeIlow--they all merge with the water which has cut itself several channels, exposing ridges of rock resemblíng great immobile sand dunes. Spray rises from the seething activity of water on rock and rises up to wet our faces--or is this nist and rain from the dark clouds that have now roIled into the valley? Although this is the warmest time of year, it is unseasonably co1d. As soon as the sun is covered by a cloud, a numbing chill sets in. The situati.on worsens when the clouds open and a driving rain starts with the knifing wind blowing through the valley. Added to that is the effect of the elevation, more than 3000 meters (10r000 feet)r down here in the va1Iey. One feels at the mercy of nature and the elements. lrle take shelter from the storm in Dandi Ashram, an inn for pilgrims. Venturing out when the skies begin to clearr wê see shreds of cloud clinging to the peaks that rim this vaIley. The tree line is still above usr but the granite affords 1itt1e hold for any vegetation. We crane our necks to get a view of the peaks, which are only visible at a distance up or down the vaIley. Immediately above us, the wind-swept shoulders block out a view of the ice-encrusted heights, though their presence is undeniably known. You actually feel these mountains surrounding you, cutting you off from everything, from the plains where there are cities and people absorbed in everyday matters. Down from the heights plunge innumerable waterfalls and smaller water-courses that bubble over rocks and debris to feed into Ganga. Just above the falls is the sangam, the confluence of Bhagirathi with Kedar Ganga. This stream is born up another 39 va1ley on the northern slopes of Kedarnath, on the opposite side of which is the holy shrine to Shíva. Its waters are clearer--a transparent green, but at the sangam they merge completely with those of Ganga. Kedar is a smaller stream which Ganga absorbs without changing course or appearance, though it now carries all of the waters of Kedar. Further upstream, the stony riverbed widens out slightly to form a sma1l flat space immediately next to Ganga. This is used as the local bathing ghãt and adjoins the main temple complex at Gangotri. People strip off virtually a1I their clothes to stand ankle or knee-deep in the frigid water, scooping it up and over their heads and backs. We hear them chant and watch them hurridly put on their dry outer garnents. This takes place after they have paid homage to the image of Ganga in the sanctum of the temple, and circumambulated the complex, stopping in front of lesser shrines to offer a prayer to the deity within. Ehe main temple, pushed up toward the mountain in the square courtyard of the complex, is a squat building with a main dome surrounded geometrically by four smaller domes. Constructed in the early 1900's by , a Gorkha ruler of the region, it rests on the spot occupied by previous shrines. Damaged in a rockfalI, the temple was repaired by the Raja of Jaipur. The image of Ganga on her vãhana (vehicle) the crocodile, surrounded by other lesser icons of Lakshmi, Saraswati, Annapurna, Bhagirathi, Yamuna and Jahnavi, faces east, upstream in the direction of Goumukh ('the cow's mouth'), which is the physical source of the river. 40

The pandit (priest) of the temple is a resident of a village some thirty kilometers down the valley. At the end of the season in November, rites are observed to officially close the temple. With the priest go several images from various shrines in the complex. Ganga is one of these. Others stay housed in the shrines over the six month winter when the snow reportedly accumulates to depths of over two meters. During this period when all transport and communication are severed, a chaukidãr (watchman) stays at Gangotri to guard the premises. His job is envied by no one, yêt this sacrifice with an attitude of utter devotion is extremely meritorious. Among the images that remain over the winter is one of Hanuman, the god of physical pro$ress. At Gangotri, we attend evening ãratï, the entire sequence of worship and offering to the deity. Called by the ringing of bells, the blowing of conch sheIIs, and the frantic beating of drums, the devout file into the complex and accumulate in a mass before the steps leading up into the sanctum. The sweet smell of dhoop (incense) pours out of the sanctum as the devout anticipate darlan of the deity. Ãrati is a very sensuous form of worship, fitled with elements that stimulate the senses and heighten awareness. Eck says of the performances: "411 these ritual acts are premised on a common view of the nature of the image: that

lGanga] is present in the image, whether for a moment, for a week t et forever. It is this fact of presence which is the basis of darlan" (Darlan, p. 38). And she notes that pilgrimage is the extension of the desire for d,ar{ary, "the single most common 4L and significant element of Hindu worship" (Parlan, p. 1). In addition to 'taking' sight ldarlan-lena of the deity in the temple, pilgrims also take darlan of the river and the Hima1aya. Ganga is elaborately clad in bright cloth with embroidered gold and silver borders so that just her face and feet resting on the back of the grinning crocodile are visible to us. It is just twilight now with the last rays of sun bordering the clouds in goldr âs the rhythm of various instruments dies down. A priest, holding a five-wicked ghee lamp in his left hand, sprinkles Ganga water first on the various images and subsequently on the crowd from a silver bowl. There are three priests conducting these ceremonies, raised slightly above the devout by the steps leading from the courtyard to the sanctum.

Intermittently, one priest chants a few mantras accompanied by a musician playing a dhõ1ak t oE hand drum. We hear some of the congregation around us mumble along with the priest, but all attention seems focused on the image within. Presently, the priest raises his voice and quite audibly shouts, "Ganga Ma ki . .. " "JAI !'r the crowd responds energetically. ( 'THAIL Mother Ganga" ) . Af ter the third I'JAI ! rr, the crowd surges forward up the steps to the platform just outside the sanctum, into which the first priest has gone, closing a barrier behind him. At the bottom of the stepsr we al1 take off our sandals so as not to defile the raised platform. The two other priests conduct the flow of people who approach from the right, one offering a sweet mixture as prasãd and sweetened Ganga water to be applied to the forehead and Iips, the other receiving donations in a wide tray. Inside, the priest is 42 offering sweets and a coconut to all the deities, his lamp stil1 in his left hand. After circumambulating the exterior of the sanctum in a clockwise direction with the right shoulder toward the deity insider wê proceed down another flight of steps and grope in the darkness to find our sandals. People are making their way around the complex, pausing momentarily before each lesser shrine to ring the beII suspended in front of each one, and chant a . The use of sound during worship is important. Various instruments are used, often discordantly, in addition to the clapping of hands and the chanting of mantras. A1ways loud to the point of sounding frenzied, is an invocation to the deity being worshipped. At Rishikesh we purchase a dhõlki (smalI dhõIak) from a group of young men who seem to be doing good business. At Muni Ashram's kÏrtanr wê utilize it as the accompaniment to the chanting of Vedic hymns. Rhythm is important, for everyone involved in this informal music-making follows a prescribed beat welI enough. The leader (whoever is chanting the loudest!) changes the beat at will, increasing the tempo until people find it difficult to follow and the group falls apart. It is all reminiscent of the mantra which links sound and power. Correct pronunciation and delivery of the entire mantra is crucial to its effect. Even the river coursing over rocky rapids and the great fal1s joins in uttering the cosmic õM! All this is by way of invoking the gods who are close at hand here in their mountain abode. The worship and veneration of Ganga at the temple is particularly auspicious here near the source, where she 43 leaves the heavens to descend to earth. Here is the link, the crossing point, between the world of humans and material forms and the abode of the gods.

I have examined Gangotri's sanctity as a tÏrth, as a sacred crossing p1ace. It is the centerr the meeting place of heaven and earth, where the devotee is in direct communication with the deity. The emotion I feel when looking around me here is voiced by Michael Scwartz, who states, 'rThe sacred becomes a potential category of experience, rather than something creating the mundane world of men, or set apart from that world" (p. 73). One has a direct experiential conviction that this is the center, which differs qualitatively from the darlan experience in the temple. We have all been to the temple or the church and understood it to be a sacred place, primarily in social context. In other words, the congregation of devout all taking darlan at the same instant effect a communal feeling of sanctity. Were there no humans anywhere in this va1ley, I would stil1 feel a sacred presence. Eor this reason, the mountains are more than simply a hierophany ( in social context) , "the act of manifestation of the sacred" (EIiade, 1961, p. 11, my emphasis). They are themselves sacred in a very real way. The truth of this belief is affirmed again and again simply by being outside, by looking around oneself to the majesty of the craggy peaks, the thick forest and the torrential Ganga. 'rTake away the Himalaya and the Ganga, and the religious history of India dwindles into insignificance" (Pavitrananda, p. 44

4961, Mountains have long been revered as the abode of the gods, in Indian culture as well as other traditional cultures. Zeus on Mt. Olympus immediately comes to mind. Their sanctity is primarily due to the peripherality of mountains from societal life. Inaccessibility of tÏrths is a central feature of Bhardwajrs thesis. He correlates the average distance pilgrims travel to visit a center with the level of that center. However, equivalent distances in the mountains are in fact harder to cover, making the pilgrimage more arduous. Thus, the entire Himalayan region is imbued with a special sacred character. The individual tirths here in Uttarkhand cannot correctly be termed 'centersrr for the mountains as a geographical area form a sacred complex. The sanctity accorded the Himalaya by the Híndu nind results in an abstraction of their very real presence. "...the Himalaya tend to be ascriptive rather than actual mountains. . .rr (Bharati | l-978r p. 78). Representative of all mountains is Kailash, the abode of Shiva. Similarly, Ganga stands for rivers. At least symbolically, every local mountain or hill is a Kailash and every local stream a Ganga. In conversations with sãdh[s at Gangotri, we discover that Kailash is ãchal, unmoving, whereas Ganga is chal, or moving. These terms are not to be taken simply in a literal sense, though here they do apply. Kailash is unyielding, ever-stationary, remote and inhospitable. These characteristics we find true of the Himalaya we experience at Gangotri. On the other hand, Ganga yields and her accesibility gives rise to the veneration directed at her by the thousands of pilgrims. She is vital and liable to 45 change. Chal and ãchal; together, they are the source, not merely of the physical river, but of life, the life in the river. At their meeting p1ace, high up in the glacial valleyr wê find the elements in a truly undifferentiated form. fhe essential unity of mountains and river valIey is exp ressed in the linqa-pitha icon so pervasive in India. Linga (the markr also phallus) is stationary, centered in the p]tna (the base, also womb). Derived from ancient fertility cults, this icon was subsumed into the Sanskritic fold and came to symbolize unity. According to Diana Eck,

The linga consists of two parts: the vertical stone shaft, which may be seen as the male component, Shiva, and the horizontal base, called a yõni or pîtha, which is the female component, Sakti. fogether þg and pitfra stand for the Shiva-Sakti symbol of diîñe-unity iæq, p. 27),

The peripherality of the Himalaya, along with the majesty of the surroundings, removes the visitor from the bounds of time as experienced in everyday 1ife. Mircea Eliade talks about the magical, mythical time ín illo tempore (1954, p. 91). This is precisely the reason that the sages throughout the years have retreated to the Himalaya to perform tãpasyã (austerities). Here the tranquillity conducive to meditation is imposed on a1I visitors by the mountains themselves. The primary aim of the ascetic is the cultivation of siddhÏ (supernatural power). Through a rigorous discipline of fasting, maurJ (complete silence), yõgã, and extended dhyãna (meditation), ttre sãdfrï strives for power over the mundane orderi with the final goal of attaining complete Iiberation, mofla. 46

Max Weber, in his discussion of ascetics or Sramans in The Religion of India, notes the importance of the practice of tãpas. The mendicant pursues the harsh discipline for its "ascetic magical potency" (p. 149), which confers the sacred pov¡er. In the hierarchical structure of the tradition, siddhÏ invariably places the Sraman at odds with the traditional power monger, the . Though power enhances the social status of the possessor, it is attained by divergent means in these two cases. Voluntarily, the sãdh[ comes into the realm of sacred power through tãpasyã. On the other hand, the Brahman possesses power by birth. For this reason the Brahmans, who possess power innately, seek to uphold the status guo. Thus, the emphasis they place on religious practice has tended to revolve around , or religious duty. Michael Schwartz has eloquently outlined the paradoxical relationship of the twin ideals of dharma and mofla in Hinduism, placing Brahmans and sãafrüs at the two po1es. Ascetics focus their religious quest on liberation, and play a disinterested role in Hindu society. They are neutral along caste lines, for the distinction of purer/impure does not app1y. Sãafrus appeal to most Hindus for particularly this reasoni they fo1low no specific "caste-norm" (Bhardwaj, p. 2L3). Their position in the hierarchy of Hindu social strata is one of neutralíty. Sãdhus abide at the periphery of society. Orr âs Schwartz puts it, "Sãdhus are permanently liminal characters" (p. Ie). Because sãdhus live at the edge of the all-pervasive varnã (caste-system), yet still maintain some degree of social power, 47 their position has been idealized to some extent' particularly among members of lower caste groups. How does someone at the periphery of society possess social status? To answer this perplexing question adequatety, it is crucial to examine the means employed by sãaftus in reaching their position. Through renunciation and rigorous spiritual discipline, the sãdfr'ü is able to establish a reputation for himself and members of his sect. Over the years the entire institution of monastic ascetics has enjoyed high repute in India. Diana Eck states, "...lsãdhüs are] a living symbol of the value placed upon renunciation. . . " (oardan, p. 5) . It is certainly true that many of the most enlightened individuals have renounced the naterial world to pursue a spiritual goa1. Consider the words of a sãanü along the pilgrimage to Gangotri, recorded by Lanza del Vasto:

My eyes were drawn to a certain pair of rope sandals with square soIes, the only piece of clothing the old sage was wearing. As soon as he noticed this, he took them off and slipped them on to my feet... Giving in, I thanked him. "Why do you thank me?" he asked. "Why do you smile at me? Why do you look at me like that, from the outside? Am I not your own self?'' (p. 208)

He had nothing to give, y€t gave it freely. His attitude was not begrudging, but truly liberated. Certainly this old fe1low was beyond the cares of the world.

One ashram keeper, Muni Baba, is himself an ascetic. Clad in a light shawl, he sits on the porch of a 1ow shelter at 48

Gangotri to receive pilgrims. For forty-two years he has been under a vow of silence. Many of the sages of old are referred to as munis, Ê.or their strict observation of mau0, or silence. The bãbã is one of these sages. He utters gutteral sounds to attract someone's attention, but forms no words, though he does communicate to the pilgrims and his attendants. A young fellow is his tinterpreter' . The bãbã writes his message on a battered chalkboard and mouths the words to the young fellow who speaks them aloud. We question hin about his voluntary silence and ascetic life. He eats a diet of cooked potatoes and salt on1y, never smokes and is offended by people eating and smoking in his presence. His life is one of service to the pilgrims, though he leaves Gangotri during the winter. Before too long, the young feIlow, apparently unprompted by tne bãbã, indicates that we are asking too many questions. Muni Baba is respected by everyone we talk to as a man of hard-earned knowledge. His disciplined life is seen as an example to those he comes in contact with.

What association do have to pilgrimage? SymbolicalIy, pí19rimage with its hardships approaches the austerity of tãpasyã. This is particularly true of Hímalayan pilgrinage. Reca1l that motorized transport directly to Gangotri is a recent innovation. Previously, I'The trek into the mountains... required great discipline and endurance and was often compared to the difficult austerities of ascetics and yõgis" (Eck, Darlan, p. 48). Sãdhüs, who by nature are released from the commitments of life in society, have been the most 49 ardent pilgrims. The intinerant character of their life constitutes a lifelong pilgrimage. In Sãdhus of India, B.D. Tripa thi lists tirtfrvãtrã ag the fifth major religious duty of all sadhus in his study (p. 17). Certainly on our pilgrimage to Gangotri, and beyond to the glacier sourcer w€ encounter a disproportionate number of sãdhüs, especialty sannyãsfs (sãdhus of Shaiva sects). Yet, this fact does nothing to establish the direct link between sãarrus and pilgrimage sites. In rny view, the prinary reason f or the sãdhü-t-irth association is a conferral of sanctity from the person to the place. Sãdhus are held in high esteem, particularly at places of pilgrirnage, for they contribute a large share of the devotional popularity a tlrth holds in the minds of pilgrims. This fact reiterates the value placed on renunciation during pilgrimage' for the arduous life of the sãdhl is an ideal to be emulated. Along these Iínes, Agehananda Bharati notes:

The radical demarcation in behavior and observances is between lay pilgrims and monk pilg rims or sadhus. The lay Hindu goes to a shrine to obtai n darÉan or some benefit. He is a cIient... The sannfrE and other ordained sãdhü s are patrons... not clients (1970r p. 90). As members of a liminal group, sãdfrüs are in the ideal position to critique prevailing social norms, tor they have renounced precisely these norms. As an institution, sãdhüs in India have provided great impetus for social change. According to Tripathi, "It is of interest to note that successful social and politicat revolutions have always been launched by saints in India" (p. 22I). In fact, Tripathi's thesis revolves around the role sãAfrüs must play as social reformers. In his opinion, 50 social services are the returns society demands from sãdhus for economic support. No longer will Hindu society permit sãdfrüs to be scavengers. Creating a religious atmosphere is inadequate, though at one time it $¡as sufficient for sãdhus to gain approval (Tripathi, p. L7). Although it is questionable whether society demands reform or simply social services from sádfrus, the role they have traditionally played is reformist. Examples of reformist sãAfrus in India's history are the 13th century Ramanand, his disciple , , and in this century, Mahatma Gandhi. Both Ramanand and Kabir (who vras, interestingly, Muslim by birth) sought to erase caste, to close divisions between linguistically diverse groups, and to unite Hindus and Muslims under the common bond of religion. Both wrote in the vernacular as opposed to Sanskrit. Tulsidas, in his epic Ram Charit Manas, caIIed for extensive reforms in the stagnant social order of the day. And it $ras Gandhi who sought to alleviate the oppression of outcastes by organizing village industries, and coining the name 'Ifarijanr' (people of God) for them. As is well known, Gandhi led the independence struggle against the British, and strove for the amelioration of tensions between India's two largest religious groups, Hindus and MusIims.

Today, socially and politically radical sampradãyã ( sects ) exist, though Tripathi reports a majority of sãdfrüs sti1l retain traditional views on caste and untouchability. In L967, when he performed the fieldwork for Sadhus of India by joining several major Shaiva and Vaishnav sampradãyã, he found 75 per cent of all sadhus interviewed supported the varnã system, while only 19 per cent opposed it (p. 169). Similarly, 60 per cent supported the 51 notion of practice of untouchability' and 32 per cent opposed it (p. 173). Alarming resultsr oo doubt, though certain sampradãyã were found to be more reformist than others. Lingayat Sampradaya has a strict ideological opposition to the caste-system as well as child-marriage, while actively supporting widow remarriage (p. 74). Such views are exceedingly uncommon in traditional Hindu society.

Among members of the Dasnami Sanpradaya with whom we share a room at the Muni Ashram, there appears to be an emphasis on spiritual goals. Liberality is most evident in their views on the religions of the wor1d. An older, slightly reserved sannvasi spe1ls out the opinions of members of his sect. They hold all religions to be one. Mentioning Islam' Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism and "those religions found in China" in pa rticular, the sannyasi reconciles this diversit yas various expressions of Sanatan Dharma (their expression for the Hindu religion), the timeless, universal religion or dharma (Iaw). Everything follows the law--there are no exceptions, for it is all-pervasive. Pressed for further clarification, he sits up and relates the relationship between bhaswãn (deit y t God) and humans. If we (a11) had no bhagwãn, where would we be? A person does not exist without relationship to bhagwan. Intermi ttently, he glances at his companion, mutters a Sanskrit verse and their faces shine. Yet, he realizes we seek a more articulate clarification of the issue and almost dejectedly he turns back to our questioning looks. Spirituality' the link between a human 52 being and bhagwãn, is the basis for all reli gion, however it may be expressed. Thus, they hold different religions to be products of different cultures and traditíons. The underlying theme, bhagwãn, unites them all, despite differences in its articulation and expression. lrle indicate that this idea is not new to us, and encouraged by this small step forward, he continues to expound the principles which guide his life and being. This apparent diversity among religions is similar to the diversity of forms we see around us. Actually, unity exists in this realm as weII, but we do not grasp it due to the power of rnãyã (illusion). Just as Ganga Ma posseses creative power, mãyã has the power and ability to create doubt. Hencer w€ see many and diverse forms when we look at things, for \de single them out. Referring to the solid nature of the wood floor, he explains his belief. Things are contained in one another and the solid nature is not an object, but merely a characteristic of the floor, which in turn is simply one aspect of undifferentiated reality. The form of the Êloor (including its solidity) is only a manifestation of its true nature t ot orígina1 nature. We listen in on further conversations among members of this party of twelve to fifteen sannyãsis. Much of their conversation is couched in mythical language. Yet, apparently this is no hindrance to their communication, but an aid. They speak of gods and goddesses' magical kingdoms and mythical beasts. These figures are v/oven into the very web of their conversation; easily and with no qualms they slip into this mode of communication. 53

We speculate, at the time and in retrospect, that the symbolic nature of their truths is best expressed in symbolic language--that of myth. In modern usage' myth may be synonymous with untruthr or at least with fanciful imagination that bears no relation to reality. Let us challenge this interpretation and understand myth in the Indian setting to be a narrative whose truth transcends the facticity of the empirical. The function of myth is dual, to convey in symbolic form a normative truth, and to popularize aspects of the religious tradition embedded in the narratíve. David Bidney characterizes the function of myth as rr. ..€ssêntiaIIy practical and social' namely' to promote a feeling of unity or harmony between the members of a society as well as a sense of harmony with the whole of nature or 1ife" (p. 1-2). Mythr âs such, is invaluable in communicating religious and moral ideals to illiterate followers of Hinduism. They may be incapable of fathoming deep and ultimate truths' but mythical legends are a part of their lives. Through mythical tales' they know of the deities and their adventures. These myths communicate a worldview and a moral attitude, indicating a proper and correct way to live one's 1ife. Furthermore' through such mythical stories, simple people have grounds on which to base their devotion. Yet, on the deepest level' myths embody religious truths--the true nature of things. As Bidney puts it' 'rThe positive value of myth is affirmed by those who are skeptical of the power of reason to comprehend reality" (p. 22). 54

Sitting on a rock on the bank of the ice-co1d Ganga at Gangotri after bathing, I let the sun warm my shrunken and sti11 prickling scaIp. A young novice, all clad in saffron with strings of rudrãksh (beads worfr primarily by holy men) hanging from his neck, approaches in a casual and offhand manner and we engage in conversation. I ask him why Gangotri is so auspicious and so venerated a Èfrth. Immediately he launches into the mythical tale of the birth of Ganga, with no introduction such as rrlegend has it that. . .rr or 'tThey tell us. . .' . But rather he relates it as if he witnessed each event. I recount it here with details fi1led in from J.H. Dave.

Years ago Sagar (meaning ocean) was king of . Great and mighty was his kingdom, yet Sagar had no heir. In a bid to produce offspring, he left his kingdom in the charge of ministers and retreated to a Himalayan hermitage with his two wives, Keshani and Sumati. Under the guidance of a renowned holy man' Rishi Brighu, Sagar undertook severe penance and strenuous austerities. Always in his mind were the words of instruction of the rishi,, f.or whom he held an attitude of deep devotion. In time' his wishes were granted by the gods and Sumati bore 60r000 sons ! Upon their return to Ayodhya, the people took to the streets in wild celebration--for the rule of Sagar would be carried on by his sons. His popularity increased, for he gave 55 gifts to all the people. The young princes Çrêw upr had fanilies and the lineage of Sagar became larger and more popular, until there came a point when the gods themselves felt threatened by Sagarrs immense following. It was at this point that Sagar declared his intention to perform the elaborate Ashvamedh (horse) sacrifice. White horses were set loose all over the kingdom to graze and fatten up for the coming event. Guarded by the 601000 sons, the horses roamed all over the heavens and the earth. The god , in disguise, led them to the hermitage of a particularly powerful rishî, . Convinced that Indra was a thief tryíng to steal their horses, the 60,000 rushed into the hermitage to find Kapila deep in meditation. They cursed and accused Kapila of the worst crimes, and because there were so many of them, his meditation was broken. In a rage, the rishi summoned his magical powers, and in a flash burned the princes to ashes. Now Sagar, unable to locate his sons, sent out his grandson, Ansuman to search for the 60r000. Eventually Ansuman happened upon the hermitage of Kapila who recounted the event. Cautiously Ansuman inquired if there was any way to restore the lives of the princes t ot at least to release their spirits from the ashes. There was one way and one way only--the water of the celestial river Ganga was required to flow over the ashes. Reporting the whole tale to Sagar, Ansuman declined the responsibilty of propitiating Ganga to flow on earth to free the 60,000 bound spirits. It was not until many years later that Bhagirath, the grandson of Ansuman and a successor to Sagar's throne, took upon 56 himself the task of liberating the spirits of his ancestors. Like Sagar, he left the royal life and withdrew to the seclusion of the Himalaya. Here, hê propitiated Ganga with a daily routine of meditationi more specifically tapasya, the generation of (heat) through meditative practices. Braving the harsh conditions, he was able to survive primarily because of the heat he generated. Initially, Ganga refused his requests, for she maintained the world would certainly be shattered by the impact of her deluge. She would only agree on one conditíon--that Shiva, the mighty and powerful god, take the force of the falling water on his head. Thus Bhagirath had to undertake another round of meditation and penance to convince Shiva of his resolve. He succeeded in getting Shiva to sit in meditation high up in the mountains, closer to the heavens where Ganga flowed. llere the mighty rock of the Himalaya would better be able to withstand the power of Ganga than anywhere else. The abode of the gods, the Himalaya are seen as a halfway point between the earth and the heavens. She diverted just a fraction of her flow and crashed with a sound that shook the heavens and the earth, upon the locks of hair of the neditating Shiva. Deep in meditation, Shiva sat calm1y as Ganga ran about madly, stiIl caught in his mat of hair. Bhagirath waited what seemed an eternity for Shiva to come out of his mediÈation, for he dared not disturb the god. Shiva squeezed a few drops of water out of his locks--this was the water that came to earth; the rest is stilI flowing around in his hair ! On her way from the Himalaya to the hermitage of Rishi 57

Kapila where she had agreed to restore the 60r000 princes, Ganga inadvertently swept away the shack of Jahnu. Outraged by the destruction of his home, the sage proceeded to drink all the flowing water and completely emptied the riverbed. This posed yet another test for Bhagirath, who initiated further penance to Janhnu who finally agreed to free Ganga. To this day, Ganga is often referred to as Jahnavi. (We crossed a tributary to Ganga at Lanka--a stream calIed Jahnavi). Finally, Bhagirath's efforts came to fruition. Ganga flowed over the ashes and immediately the 60,000 sons of Sagar were restored to life. It took the powers of Ganga water, in contact with the ashes to achieve this miraculous event. Indeed, so holy were the waters of the river goddess that the 601000 were at once reborn in the heavens. It was all due to the meditation and tãpasyã of Bhagirath--hence the river in her upper reaches is caIled Bhagirathi. The present-day shrine at Gangotri is located on the spot of Bhag irath's tapasya. His goal achieved, Bhagirath once again ventured out into the world of men to reclaim his kingdom.

On one level, this legend sanctifies the location of Gangotri, which is not, indeed, the source of the Ganga. However, it is quite evident that this is the pilgrimage center and not the source at Goumukh, eighteen kilometers further up the valley. Gangotri, the location of Bhag irathrs tapasyar êrì jovs popularity among most pilgrims. The myth is, in fact, the story of the pilgrimage of 58

Bhagirath, who retreated into a mythical time and place from his kingdom. His goal was not material, but spiritual--to free the spirits of his ancestors. Beset by hardshíps and trials all along the way, Bhagirath persevered in his aim and finally achieved his goal. Subsequently, he returned to his kingdom a changed man. It sets an ideal for the devout pilgrims to emulate. On another level, the story of Ganga and Bhagirath conveys some of the truths the sannyãsIs telI us about. Bhagirathrs tãpasyã, in story form, seems symbolic of the tãpas (heat) or energy of the elements here high up in the mountains. We are impressed, overawed not simply by the sight of the mountaín grandeur, but by the feeling of power and majesty we perceive all about us. There are other indicators that this is a symbolic truth ¡ ã characteristic of the relation between Ganga and Himalaya. Hanuman, the monkey god, who is the deity of wrestlers in particular, stands for the might of the mountains. Several kirtan we have attended include songs of praise to the powerful Hanuman. In the antechamber of Dandi Ashram stands a massive stone figure of the god, clad in red. He carries a mace in one hand and balanced on the other, a monolithic mountain. Muscles bulging, his face is calm and serene. Surely this giant has power over the elements. Near Gangotri is a peak named Bandar Poonch (Monkey Tail) after Hanuman. People worship him for they hold a deep respect for physical might. The sheer power of the elements is only too evident up here in the great Himalaya. The myth further informs our understanding of the 59 symbolism of water. The purpose of Bharg irath's tapasya, indeed the focus of all events, is the freeing of the 601000 spirits. And Ganga has the cleansing, healing, life-giving properties to achieve this liberation. All Bhagirath's efforts are aimed toward Ganga, directly or indirectly. His penance and meditation, as well as propitiation of Shiva, Jahnu, and Ganga are vital to securing the release of the spirits. Ganga has the povrer to release the spirits, to raise them from the dead, to give them life and rebirth in the heavens. Ganga plays the role of the giver of life and is the symbol of livelihood. Water possesses these powers; the popular figure of the river goddess Ganga dispenses them. The correct attitude, the frame of mind with which one approaches Ganga, is of key importance to the pilgrims who feel a special devotion and reverence for the river here at her source. Itlithout such an attitude, it is just the physical river we see. But the goddess manifests herself in physical form here; she transforms herself from the divine essence of life into the powerful elements. One can view this this manifestation directly here at Gangotri and Goumukh. The myth legitimates Gangotri as a pilgrimage center--the tirth is the site of Bhag irath's tapasya. Other factors may be involved in the actual location in the vaIley. Presumably the shrine's location in the vaIley was influenced by practical considerationsr âs weII. Any shelter or structure at Goumukh beneath the glacier would have to be very temporary. The landscape is constantly changing. Shifting debris and falling rock and ice would damage or wholly destroy a temple or shrine 60 established there. Gangotri temple is also built away from the river, separated from her by a flat area used as the bathing ghat. We are told that at religious ceremonies, people gather on the rock-strewn fietd for celebration and the observance of rites. It is the last flat area we see going up the valley to Goumukh. All aIong, the banks are steep and access to the river is difficult for more than just two or three people at a time. The powerful surroundings at Gangotri must have been a factor in the determination of the shrine's location in the va1Iey. Nowhere else in the valley, with the exception of the glacier at Goumukh, do the forces of nature display themselves with such majesty. Especially important are the mighty fa11s, , roaring over an opening in the multicolored rock. The confluence of Kedar Ganga from Kedarnath peak with the Bhagirathi from Goumukh gives further sanctity to the environs of Gangotri. It is possible, of course, that ages ãgo, the glacier stretched down as far as Gangotri and has since receded. The location of the temple may have been determined at that time, and tradition never permitted it to shift, following the receding gource. These are all speculations concerning the actual physical source of the river and the tirth at Gangotri. Apparentlyr practical and historical reasons for establishment of the tirth are not as important as the 'mythical' source--the site of Bhagirath's meditation. Indeed, we meet a young fellow I a permanent resident of the valley, who spends much of the six month season here at Gangotri, yet he has never been to the 61 physical source at Goumukh! It is here at this temple that people take darlan of the image of Ganga and receive prasãd. The narration of the myth of the descent of Ganga is incentive for ¡nêr however, to visit the source, to view the Goumukh. To complete this yãtrã, I must take daréan of the physical source.

To reach Goumukh' one must walk another eighteen kilometers up the vaIley. We depart before noon and climb up the left bank of the river to reach the footpathr âo extension of the motor road which has brought us this far. In comparison to the large numbers of people on the bus and around Gangotri, the path is virtually deserted. We pass some cows, though there does not appear to be much for them to feed on. Vegetation is plentiful' but primarily hardy high-altitude shrubs and trees. The path is not steep but seems to be fairly well maintained. At points' it is necessary to cross ice-f1ows as well as small streams and rivulets that all merge into Ganga. Soon we pass the tree line at about 4000 meters (13'000 ft) and the path appears more dangerous. Landslides and rockfalls damage it regularly and footing on the path is not at all firm. After fourteen kilometers we are confronted with a difficult decision: to press on and reach the source t ot leave the path and head down toward the river where we see the ãshram of LaI Baba. We have been informed that there is no shelter whatsoever at Goumukh, but that the bãbã it to aII that ask. Tired out by the hike in the thin air, vre choose the comforts of 62 a roof and a hot cup of tea. Later in the evening, he serves us a hot meal and we sleep soundly. Before dawn, the sannyãsîs with whom we share a room are up and about. As the bãbã does not serve food until later in the morning, they have decided to depart at dawn. They plan to visit (fro,n van, lorest, o{ aaster.ilS, }ãprisyã-), Goumukh and then head further up to a place called lapobanr, the hermitage of Simla Babar âû ascetic. They depart as we snuggle up against the cold in our sleeping bags. As the first rays of the sun strike the low building we venture outside to be met by an incredible view of the three peaks of Bhagirathir ân immense towering mountain dominating the skyline to the east, further up the vaIley. Yesterday, the peaks were shrouded by cloud cover and we had no intimation of their grandeur. By 7 am we are otf , without anything to eat , f.or we have found a party of young Indian mountaineers who have hired a guide to show them the path to Tapoban. The path continues upward until about two kilometers from Goumukh where it loses itself amid huge boulders and shifting glacial debris. Still above the river on her left bankr w€ spot with binoculars a small. red flag planted at the base of the glacier from which Ganga is born. At this distance, it is extremely difficult to differentiate the river from its glacial source. Composed of three streams each about ten meters broad, Ganga is a rushing torrent even here at her source. Rea1ly, she is simply an extension of the immense glacier, which itself appears to be an extension of the Himalaya, the towering snow-capped peaks that surround us. The glacier's width may only be guessed by estimating the width of the vaIIey. There is no way to separate ice from rock, f,or the glacier bears 63 on its back immense boulders, rock and sand. Indeed, imbedded in the ice is all kinds of debris, similar to the silt carried by Ganga. Here is the source, where ice, water and rock are undifferentiated. Mountain and river are one. Just as we approach the Goumukh, simply an ice cave, a large chunk of ice and debris cracks off the top and tumbles down the glacial face to crumble into Ganga. The ice has a duI1 blue, almost grayish tint. Drops of water run down the inside of the ice-cave into the rushing water. Surely this is the true nature of the source--drop by drop water accumulates under this grinding, cracking slab of ice everywhere in the valley above us. Collectively they aíd in the erosion of rock until Ganga issues forth from the Goumukh laden with minerals and silt. Close to the tiny red flag stands a solitary sannyas].,thþù engrossed in the wonder of this whole process. Here is the birthplace of Ganga Mar life-giver and sustainer of so many countless millions of Indians. It is a place of beginnings, the origin of this great and holy river, revered by all Hindus. We feel of kindred spirit with this young man, though his interest may be of a different nature. Our experiences and observations lead us to a plethora of thoughts and interpretations. Having reached the source, the origin and place of beginnings, we also approach the end of our vãtrã. But the journey of the mind which pushes off where the body has come to a standstill has, it seems, only begun. Like the river, the mind is ever present, y€t ever moving on. 64

r,fhat can be said to adequately describe the feelings we experience here at the source of Mother Ganga? The unifying element of all phenomena observed at Goumukh is the river, born from the forces of nature at work here in the high mountains. Glacier and rock, sun and snow, wind and mountain, cloud and heat--aIl combine in one symphonic unity to give birth to the powerful Ganga. It is the river, popularized by the myth of Ganga's descent, that draws the many pilgrims from far and wide. They come to bathe in the purifying water, to offer prayers and receive boons. Few are turned away without some part of their wish fulfitled, and for many, daráan of the birthplace of Mother Ganga is their reward. From this discussion emerges the picture of Ganga as life-giver, the sustaining Mother. We compare this to Mother Earth, a concept emphasized in the West. Bhe Earth is Mother' for from her all life is born and its continued existence is assured. She is fertile and is the medium for growth and change to new forms. Where she is inhospitable, societies cannot develop. Humans are inextricably linked to Mother Earth. The Universal Mother cannot be, as one might intimate from many cultures simply Earth, f.or the connotations of the phrase seem often to be regarded in too simplistic a fashion. Nor can she be only water, which is but a medium for life, from the amoeba in the murky pond to the fetus growing in the womb. tMother' is a univeral syrnbol for the beginning of all things and as such must be all things, while at once containing all things. Ganga Ma, the Mother Ganga, af which pilgrims all through our vãtrã have shouted and sung praise, sparkles with unending 65 miniature undercurrents of rich silt even as she gushes from the Goumukh. She is a product of all the elements--neither simply water nor simply earth, but a rich combination of the two. Gangar pârticularly noticeable at her galcier source, is a product of the coming together of countless elements here high upon the earth; glacier, ice, sno$rr wâter, mountain, rock, stone, sand, heat, wind. We realize that there is no primary source herer âs our eyes are drawn up into the wide glacier. There is only a universe of beginnings--a system of many lives and many birthsi a system which is a living, ever-evolving entity. Ganga is, thus, far from being merely a river as we may ordinarily imagine one, but an ideal conception--a symbol, a reality--and one which the Hindu people have held dear since times long past.

To investigate the birthplace of Gangar wê decide to examine more closely the womb from which she is born--the composite mass of ice and rock, the glacier. Climbing the northern morraine to the height of the glacial surface we change course and venture out onto the boulder-strewn fie1d. Ganga is audible through the ice, though she is at least Êifty meters directly below us. The surface is extremely uneven, with shifting rocks, sand-covered ice faces and miniature Gangas carving themselves paths through ice and rock only to disappear down into crevasses. Though not more than than a kilometer to the steeply ascending southern morraine, the crossing takes at least an hour. We are not climbing and yet we are exhausted. 66

The path climbs on to Tapoban, away from this inhospitable place. The path is very steep no\^¡, winding its way between large boulders. Due to the high altitude, it is impossible to climb more than a few paces at a time. While resting beside a stream of clear meltwater runníng down the morrainer wê spot three stone cairns that mark the entrance to Tapoban, a large meadow scattered with rocks, lichen and tiny flowers. The elevation, we are told by members of an ltalían women's mountaineering expedition using the meadow as base camp, is 4500 m (15'000 ft). The peaks soaring up all around us are certainly several thousand meters higher. Completely exhausted by the ctimbr w€ drop our gear and sit down. Snows from the peaks reach far out onto the meadow. The narrow path meanders out across the expanse of flat land to an outcropping of rock. Simla Baba has constructed his low stone shelter on the leeward side of these rocks. "Jai Ganga Mar" he greets us. As his service to the pilgrims that come this f.at, he serves tea and khichidl, a mixture of lentils and rice, prepared in a pressure cooker for the high altitude. His fire dominates his hut. Set in the middle with a trident planted next to it' the fire warms the whole hut, covering the low ceiling with black soot. His young helper descends the wearisome path we climbed this morning everyday past LaI Baba's ãshram to fetch wood which he carries up on his back. The cheerful energy of this fellow is truly amazing! The only people up here at Taboban' apart from the mountaineers, are the staunchest pilgrims. Virtually all of them

are sãdhùs, referred to as mahatmas ( great souls) by Simla Baba 67 and his young helper. Many of them made the ascent this morning over treacherous rock and ice barefoot or in meager sandals ! Their clothing is insufficient--a thin cloak or shawl does Iittle to protect one from the biting wind. All of them have since returned to the shelter of LaI Babars, for Símla Baba has only sufficient room for two. Equipped with tent and sleeping bags, we decide to brave a night or two here at Ganga's source. We camp beside a small stream termed 'Ganga' by Simla Babar with our gear in one tent and the three of us in another. As soon as the sun passes behind a ridge, it turns chi1ly and the wind becomes more noticeable. Fed by meltwater, the stream threatens to inundate us at night. Its flow has increased tenfold since we set up camp and we hear it swirling higher and higher. By morning, the icy water is a mere trickle. There is frost on everything--the tiny purple flowers cannot have survived. We are again reminded of the transience of life in these harsh surroundings. After a clear, star-studded night, dawn breaks illuminating the peak Shivling directly above us. Arising right out of the meadow, it grandeur overwhelms us. Close to the top, sheer rock faces support a rounded dome of snow. It is incredible--alrnost as if the va1ley is the yõnÏ for water sprinkled on the linga to cool the heat of tãpas generated by it. This ritual is carried out wherever lingas are erected as objects of veneration. The peak is massive. We start climbing up a ridge, from where it looks as remote and inaccessible as ever. Despite the inaccessibility of Tapoban, word arrives up the va1Iey from Uttarkashi that the stolen bag with passport and 68 camera has been found! No police messenger brings word; no one is expressly sent out to find me--word simply arrives. I am amazed at the extent of the communication network that accompanies this q¡rtfr.

As there is a flow of people, paralleled by the riverr so communication flows along the pilgrimage route. Not simply informatíon--pieces of news, etc.--but cultural artifacts are communicated among pilgrims. Thus Victor and Edith Turner equate pilgrimage centers with "cultura1 magnets" (p. 27). In other words, given sufficienct popularity and widespread establishment as a center, the tlrth draws to itself bearers of culture. Religion, art, literature, and fresh interpretations of old norms accumulate at centers, much as the river is an agglomeration of elements. In the case of Gangotri, this aspect of pilgrimage is evidenced by the numerous sãdh-us delivering lectures, holding kirtan, and distributing literature. Transmission of culture necessitates not only religion, art and learning, but less desirable elements as well. For, it is simply not possible to encourage only the communication of positive ideals, and restrict the flow of negative and even destructive social and cultural elements of culture. For example, despite assertions regarding greater caste and sex equality at tirths (see Dave, Vaidyanathan, and Eck, for example) , our experience does not corroborate such claims. Ironically, it is the focus of pilgrimage to Gangotri, i.e., ritual purification, that is largely responsible for 69 discrimination along caste and sex lines. The notion of ritual purity is pervasive in India and results in distinctions between clean and unclean people. Thus Harijans, whose work involves sanitation, are outcastes. They cannot purify themselves in this lifetimer oo matter how many times they bathe in the sacred waters of the river. Women, too, who are thought to be impure during menstruation are discriminated against by male members of of the ritually higher castesr particularly Brahmans and . Odd1y, pre-adolescent girls and women past menopause are stilI relegated to the impurer/inferior category by a majority of Indian men, those with traditional views on sexuality as a determinant to social status. Despite non-discrimination legislation passed by the Indian government in 1956, social oppression of various kinds is widespread, for such laws "have been unenforced and totally ignored in this part of India," states Berreman (Hindus of the , 103 ). In '56, just after legislation outlawing caste, Varanasi's Go1den Vishwanath Temple ( the most important tirth in Kashi based on pilgrim popularity) was opened to Harijans. Vidyarthi records the reaction of rrD. S.M. rr¡ a temple pu jãrî (priest), who stated, "... since then the sanctity of the temple is decreasing day by day" (1979, p. 208). "K.S.T.rr the temple mãhant (Brahman temple-keeper) felt much the same wâ1lr but sav¡ some economic beneÊit:

Though from the core of our heart we were not willing to break an old tradition and allow the Harijan's entry but we had to acquiesce in view of the government's rules and amendments to the Indian Constitution. But this has turned out weII. With the Harijan entry, the 70

number of worshippers has exceeded. The amount of offerings to Lord Vishwanath has also increased (L979, p. I92).

Bhardwaj has some interesting insights on this problem. He established that "high-level sites" have lower concentrations of low-caste pilgrims due to discrimination they encounter at these sites. Low-caste pilgrims tend to prefer Mother Goddess shrines, where more egality is accorded them (p. 184). He notes with particular interest that such tirths are not usually included in the fold of Brahmanic, or Sanskritic, sites. The clarification he provides, reads:

As the Brahmanic element in shrines increases and as the place assumes a more Sanskritic character, the ritually higher castes also increase in proportion while the reverse is true for the ritually lower castes. The leve1 of sacred place is, thus, not merely an imaginary derivation but has significance on the basis of the all-pervasive social structure of caste hierarchy in Hinduism (p. 186).

Yet, in 1973, when Hindu Places of Pilqrimage in India was published, pilgrims bound for Badrinath were restricted from boarding buses at Rishikesh, "where the Health Department checked the immunization certificates of the passengers before tickets for the buses IcouId] be issued" (p. 229, buried in the Appendix). How many low caste (andr correspondingly low economic class) pilgrims had been immunized for cholera? How many had the opportunity? Bhardwaj does not even engage such a discussion. Perhaps, therefore, his conclusions about low-caste pilgrim participation at high-Ievel sites (an example is Badrinath) are inaccurate. Gender discrimination at tirths is complicated by caste. 7L

Scholarly assertions that gender differentiation is irrelevant during pilgrimage seem not to be factual. I have discovered through research, though, that caste discrininatíon is present at every tirth, where gender discrimination is more closely tied to different temple rituals. Sanskritic deities are venerated by the mainstream of Hindu society who discriminate on the basis of gender. The ritual environment of local deities worshipped by village Hindus may be more egalitarian. The Vanaparva states that women should participate equally with men on tirthvãtrã (Kane, p. 567) | while the asserts that male qrihastis (householders) must take their wives on pilgrimage in order to reap any benefit (Kane, p. 568). Such statements reveal the gender bias of of Hindu culture. Fu1I equality has never been accorded to women in Hindu society. Vaidyanathan states, "The temple doors of Sabarimala Ia South Indian tTrthl are open to everyone irrespective to caste, creed, religion or social statusr" (p. 9) and takes great pains to show that Muslims and Christians participate in the yãtrã to Sabari. Yet, on the following pages' it becomes clear that gender discrimination is overt, for women are not even allowed on the pilgrimage. "Adolescent girls and young women are prohibited" (p. 11). This is extremely interesting in light of the fact that "Sabari was a $¡oman of a forest tribe...rr (p. 92), an erstwhile caretaker of the temple. She was impure on two counts; firstr âs a woman, secondr âs a non-Hindu. Apparently, she was an older woman posing no threat to Ayyappa, the celibate deity. Local modes of social behavior presumably dictate discrimination practices. The temple of Sabarimala is located in , where 72 orthodoxy prevails among Hindus. In adjacent ' where social restrictions are more lax, women receive less discriminatory treatment. Despite these structural problems in cultural transmission at tTrths, it is widely accepted that pilgrimage plays an essentially integrative ro1e. We shall further explore this theme first in terms of the ideal of India as a nationr âDdr secondly, utilizing Victor Turner's notion of "communitas." David Sopher points out, "Common forms and a sense of community I in Hinduism] have been maintained by means of largely informal r âütonomous ci rculatory flows , " ( p. 392) which he describes as pilgrimage. The origins of these pilgrimages that span linguistic borders can be found in the Mahabharata. Numerous sites all over the subcontinent are mentioned in the epic as being especially sacred. In fact' the text advocates a oarikramã t et circumambulation, of all the sites. Participants are exposed to divergent social, ethnic and linguistic Aroups on their yãtrã. Even today, all-India yãtrãs are very conmon. As we have observed, private travel agencies offer chartered buses that visit all the major pilgrimage sites in India¡ âs well as urban centers and places of tourist interest. Many such tours travel to Gangotri, as well as Yamnotri, Kedarnath and Badrinath. In much the same spirit, Shankaracharya established the four dhãm (centers) of pan-Hindu importance. His choice was clearly along lines of geographical integration: Badrinath (north), Rameshwaram (south), Jagannath (east) ,and (west). According to Swami Pavitrananda, such al1-India pilgrimages are partially accountable for Hindu "catholicity'r (p. 73

498). Certainly in this respect, pilgrimage serves an integrative function on a macrocosmic leveI. In other words' integration of geographically diverse groups is a primary function. Yet pilgrimage provides (or should I say, displays) mechanisms to cope wiÈh the more microcosmic aspects of integration. I refer here to an individual's acceptance into "associational groups" (Turners, p. 13), that include primarily unrelated people on the same yãtrã, who by nature of the journey' find common grounds of interest. To be accepted among fellow pilgrims, one must leave behind one's old self' with its prejudices and discrimination, and in the spirit of purification, forge a new person--this one more complete' more fuIly formed. Such personal purification displays the character of an initiationr or a rite of passage. Arno1d van Gennep divides the rite of initiation into three distinct phases: separation, limen rliminality' ( threshold, whence Turner 's ) , and reaggregation. Thus, Turner states, "... there is a rite de passage' even an initiatory ritual character about pilgrimaget' 1L973, p. 204) . My striving for acceptance must be accompanied first by a separation. The arduous trip up the glacier and morraines to Tapoban, I now recognize to be an attempt to enter the liminal phase through separation. Similarly for plains' Hindus¡ â. trip to the Himalaya constitutes a definite separation followed by liminality (the experience of betwixt and between I Limbo' threshold). As a result, "pilgrimages are Iiminal phenomena' (Turner , 1973 | p. 91) . What can be said of liminal experience? Certainly we 74 encounter the 'liminal feeling' at various times with varying degrees of intensity during the pilgrimage. Coarse food with meagre nutritional value enhances our liminality. Exhaustion and sickness are part of the everyday regimen for all pilgrims, particularly those on the footpath. Thus the pilgrimage requires a renunciation of the comforts of home: hot food made to taste, comfortable bed, etc. Recalling the 'tourist-pilgrins,' I am led to believe that liminalíty is the obligatory aspect of pilgrimage. In other words, for tfre yãtrã to achieve fruition, this threshold feeling is required. Again, Turner posits that obligation is of a strictly moral characteri there are no social sanctions behind it. It is meritorious to choose one's moral duty. From this perspective, the comfortable business people riding in air-conditioned taxis cannot correctly be termed pilgrims. Liminality, experienced in different contexts, ilây have different results. The psychological effect on the individual, I can say from personal experience, is one of altered consciousness, where ordinary perceptioqs and conclusions based on these perceptions, are modified. This may result in the transformation mentioned earlier--that of leaving behind the oId and integrating the new into one's thought-patterns. Liminality entails both transition (what is going to be) and potential ( what may be). I cannot adequately emphasize the importance of this statement. Subsequent discussion of the personal side of liminal feeling should explicate this transition-potential notion. According to Turner in all his works cited in the bibliography, the primary outcome of liminality in the social 75

sphere (as opposed to the individual's psyche) is communitas, a feeling of community, even communion among the various participants of the pilgrimage. It must be noted that communitas is a social quality that manifests itself on a universal level--among pilgrims and those who provide support for them. Communitas is of three distinct types: 1) spontaneous, tt... the direct, immediate, and total confrontation of human identities which, when it happens, tends to make those experiencing it think of mankind as a homogeneous, unstructured, and free community" (1973, p. 193) ¡ 2) normative, which, due to "the need to mobilize and organize resources to keep the members of a group alive and thriving...existential communitas is organized into a perduring social system" (ibid., p . I94)¡ 3) ideological, made up of "utopian models or blueprints of societies" (ibid.). Do we see aspects of these types of communitas on our pilgrimager or are they merely theoretical concepts? What types of 'communitas situations' do we encounter along the yãtrãa Vüe certainly experience spontaneous and normative communitas, and the the literature is replete with examples of ideological communitas. Breaking the coconut and the sharing of prasãd is clearly a good example of spontaneous communitas. No questions are askedr €vêrlonê simply participates, and no one person is singled out as the instigator in the minds of the bus passengers. Kirtan at Muni Ashram is a further instance of this unstructured communitas experience. No hierarchy is established, f.or participants join the chanting at wi11, and initiate new rhythms periodically. Communitas of this type is not uncommon among 76

members of "primary groupsr' (Turners, p. 13 ) , that include family and immediate friends. The resulting feeling of unstructured, and free community is best described by the Turners using a term they call "flow: " "a holistic sensation present when we act with total involvement, a state in which action follows action according to an internal 1ogic..." (p. 254). Yet, it is normative communitas that "constitutes the characteristic social bond among pilgrims..." lI973t p. 194). The institution of ãshrams and dharméãIãs providing accomodation and food for pilgrims along the yãtrã are prime examples of normative communitas. Interestinglyr wê rarely feel 'flow' in the context of these pilgrim inns, f.or they maintain a fairly rigid structure among pilgrims so actions cannot be spontaneous. Rooms are shared with othersr no doubt; however, primary groups tend not to dissolve. Communication networks and dialogue among members of diverse groups are additional examples of normative communitas. These are the result of a temporary breakdown of normal structure that adheres among members of a hierarchical society. Bhardwaj's thesis regarding the higher level sites implies the requisite conditions for the existence of dialogue, in effect. The higher the leve1 of the site, the greater the lspatial] diversity of pilgrims and, hence, the greater the opportunity for inter-group communication. Note that the lower level sites draw pilgrims from essentially a single pilgrim 'fieldrr (a single linguistic group). Lower level sites are more conducive to spontaneous communitas, whichr âs mentioned previously, is more 1ike1y to occur among members of primary groups, f,or a single field is 77 like1y to contain a higher concentration of primary groups. Communitas is not the epitome of 'anti-structurer' where aII divisions fall asrayi rather, the experience of communitas during pilgrimage is a "carefully structured, highly valued route to a liminal world here the ideal is felt to be real, where the tainted social persona may be cleansed and renewed'r (Turners, p. 30). The'reaggregation'at the end of tlre yãtrã leads to a new structure. Communitas is at once the origin and the critique of societal structure (I973t p. 21-6). A final word on spontaneous and normative communitas before turning to the texts for examples ideological communitas. Turner points out that structure and anti-structure I liminality and communitas provide a relevant model only within a single tradition. At the practical 1evel, leaving ideological considerations aside temporarily, pilgrimage is not a universal phenomena binding together all the religious traditions. Though the goal may be common, rituals and participants vary greatly from religion to religion. Expressions of ideological communitas within the Hindu religious tradition, occur in numerous texts. Dave states that untouchability is not observed at tf.rths (p. xxv). Bhardwaj states, ". . . sacred places provide a religiously and socially recognized environment within which the distinction of caste melts away..." (p. 151). I must keep repeating to myself that this is an example of purely ideological communitas, for v¡e have seen that caste discrimination is, in fact, common. Yet' on a symbolic level, pilgrimage to river tirths can achieve "... the communitas spirit Iwhich] presses always to universality and 78 ever-greater unity...rt (Turner I L973, p. 202). River flow' the opposite of stasis, represents the breakdown of rigid structure which imposes the distinctions and divisions characteristic of life in societyr ân opinion voiced by Schwartz:

As a source of unity, rivers are symbols of communitas through which an ideological separation of a person's performance from his substance allows the possibítity of ritual actors occupying equivalent positions (p. s0).

The preceding analysis discusses transition and potential in the context of the social phenomenon that is pilgrimage. In pilgrims other words, Iiminality results .in communitas among ' effected by the spatial liminality of journeying away from home. However, liminality manifests itself on another level as well--it opens new realms of meaning and understanding, in a personal' psychological sense, which is primarily achieved by removing the pilgrim from profane or ordínary space and time, and inserting him/her into the sacred realm where events take on a wholly different character.

A stage of separation, followed by hardship (trial) r results in psychological liminality or the feeling of being in 1imbo. Eliade points out in the Myth of the Eternal Return' that this psychological state is capable of recreating the mythical time, in i11o t re. Swami Akhandananda's narration of his pilgrimage to Uttarkhand in the late 19th century' reflects such a transition from profane to sacred. His discussion of Ganga and Himalaya is imbued with sacred terminology. For example, h€ states, "Here was to be seen the serene beauty of the Universal Mother as well as the terrible aspect of Shiv" (p. 16). Or, "A 79

mere recollection of those days now stirs up every fibre of my being and a stream of serene and holy thoughts bubbles up within me" (p. 3). At Gangotri, the sight of the waterfall Gaurikund so enchants him, that he enters a trance involuntarily. Of Gangotri, he states, "... time was of no consequence here" (p. 291. His recourse to this language is affected by the peripherality of Himalayan pilgrimage sites, and in part by his extreme renunciation. He vows to carry no money whatsoever, but does accept gifts. He states, "I gave up wearing shoes tilI I reached Tibet after cornpleting the pilgrimage to Uttarkhandrr (p. l0). Of this personal manifestation of liminality, Turner posits,

The liminal stage, when the subject is in spatial separation from the familiar and habitual, constitutes a cultural domaín rich in cosmological meaning' conveyed largely by nonverbal symbols (1973, p. 2I3).

Here, Eliade's discussion of "hierophany" (1961r p. I1) is extremely relevant. The liminal stage provides the required psychological framework for establishing a I'center ¡ à fixed poinb" (1961r p. 2I). Liminality results in feelings of despair, at times, and loss of purpose or direction. It is imperative for the participant to establish 'rorientation" (ibid.) by forging a link with the eternal, the divine. The result is a manifestation of the sacred, a hierophany' in the world of human experience. Consequently, both sacred and profane are "modes of being in the world, two existential situations. . . " ( 1961, p. L4l , separated by the liminal stage of being. 80

Such an experience overcomes me on the ridge over Tapoban. The feeling is no tensed, conscious awareness, but a sublime receptivity. I feel emptied, relieved of every part of my person I cannot bear to face directly. The transformation is more complete than any conscious decision to alter my vrays, to modify my behavior and personality. I am aware of the capabilities I possess, the potential I must, actualize. Yet, a transformation is required for the emergence of the new self. Here on the mountain I attain peace of mind. For a moment I close my eyes, but no smug feeling of self-satisfaction is evident. Rather I caIm1y proceed down the ridge to the tents below, confident that the pilgrimage has already achieved its goal, f.or I have purified my o1d beingr âDd begun to take on this new form. 81

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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GLOSSARY

ãCaman - ceremonial sipping of river water during ritual bath. ffiãT-- unmoving, statiònary, üpright. ãTñãd'a - gathering place for wrèstlers, previously a center for militant ascetic monks. ãratï - sequence of ceremonies performed by priest during temple worship. ãshram--Tccomodation. - residence of initiated monks that provide pilgrims avatãr reincarnation. Eããffin - deity, God. - devotional hymn. bhaktl - devotion. 6ñffi_- reverent attitude, outlook. 6ñõja-n - food, usually distributed free by an ashram. eh-ãf moving, yieldiñg, flowing. chapãtï - unleavened bread of whole wheat. chattï - pilgrim resthouse. chaukîdãr - watchman, guard. - dakshina - offerin g in return for services. dãn - charity. GTd'an auspicious sight r âs of the image in the sanctum. @=s od, male deity. - goddess, female deity. dhãm - d ivine abode, more commonly a major tirth. tlñãma cosmic law, religious duty. dharmÉãlã - pilgrim inn wíth free accomodation. dhõIak - hand drum. dhoop - incense. dhyãna - med itation. gangãputrã - 1iteral1y son of Ganga, refers to ritual specialist at the ghãt. garbaqrïhã - temple sanctum, also womb steps leading into the water used for snãn. ritual specialist at the ghãt. clarified butter. tf - householder. - - pilgrim client of pandã. a - water. anwar small container for carrying Ganga \^¡ater. Eñîõñ_iar meal of lentils and rice. klrtan music and chanting as devotional worship. kuIT porter. 86 maufJ - complete si lence, usually under vow. mãyã - creative power (of illusion). mokéa - final liberation of the phenomenal self, merging with the universal Atman-Brahman. mundana - tonsure, often performed during pilgrimage. munl - ascetic under vow of silence. pandã - generic term for ritual attendant. pandit - temple priest. parbat L- - mountain. parîkramã - circumambulatíon (clockwise) . pïtha - icon representing the womb. pitrï - ancestors. prasãd - food offering or that given out by divine favor. prayãg - river confluence. p9j3 votive offering: pEjãri: - priest assisting püjã. 4punyã reliqious merit. rishï - sage, wiseman. rudrãksh - beads worn primarily by sannvãsis. ffiEFascetic. sampradãyã - monastic sect. sangam - f iver confluence. sannyas]. - initiated monk of Shaiva sect. 4shãmavãnã open shade-tent. siddhï supernatural powers cultivated through austerity. snan - ritual bath in a holy body of water. sukhnã pilgrim's vow before leaving home. tãpas - power derived from austerity, also heat. tãpasyã the practice of austerity and renunciation. tarpan - ritual performed during snan, water offering. tïrth SA cred center, pilgrimage center. ffiyãtrã pilgrimage. Uttarkhand - Himalayan region of northern Uttar Pradesh state, comprised of Gangotri, Yamnotri, Badrinath, and Kedarnath shr ines . uttar vãhinï northward flowi ñ9. vãhana - vehicle, animal mount for deity. van - torest, wilderness. varnã - Hindu caste system. yãtrã - journey, pilgrimage. yãtrT - pilgrim. yõgã - discipline involving breath control, bodily conditioning, and meditation. yonÏ - icon representing womb.