Man bathes in the Ganges betweenba series of temporary bridges
The Kumbh Mela occurs every twelve years at the Indian city of Allahabad. During this event, millions of Hindus from all around the world converge at the confluence of three holy rivers: the Ganga, the Yamuna, and the mystical Saraswati. Here a temporary city is built on the dry river bed to accommodate the religious pilgrims, Sadhus and Swamis.
Sadhu meditates in his tent while offering blessings to passerby’sThousands of Naga sadhus rush to the water on Shahi Snan, one of the holiest days in Hinduism. Covered in ash to honor the dead, they cleanse themselves in a celebration of life and rebirth.
Sadhu’s bound in decorative rope march through the mela center.A flower perched on the spare tire of a tuk tuk: a romance bathed in joyous yellow.
A basket of paper boats filled with Pooja offerings to be sent down the river
People travel along the dirt roads lined with steel platesThree women bathe in the Ganges. A man carries life jackets along the barrier. Another tosses seed to the birds. Here at the rivers edge life gives and it receives. It preserves and purifies.
A lone white horse and its rider cross the temporary bridge towards Sangam
Bridges span from Sangam to the Mela centerThe sun rises weak through the haze as the tent city stirs, a hose coiled on the sand.
Woman prays to Mother Ganga
A tuk tuk crammed full with passengersA maze of sarees and clothes dry in the sun
Two sadhu’s (Hindu sages/priests) converse while a man stirs a giant kettle of milk representing the Samudra Manthan, an auspicious ocean of milk from Vedic mythology. This scene, peppered with religious symbolism, was one of countless others within the grand theater of the Mela. Every street, a cast of characters with stories and wisdom to share. But this was far more than pageantry. This was a reflection of the dense and diverse Hindu culture. This was a glimpse into millennia. These were the most
An intricate array of lights marks the entrance to the central Mela.The back of a truck doubles as a bed and laundry room.
Women gather along the shore of the Ganges to give puja offerings
An elephant named Lakshmi collects money from bystanders with her trunk. She stepped forward, tilted her head and looked intently into the camera. When I placed my hand on her head she bowed and stepped back. She chose to encounter me.Family rests in a SUV
A novice monk runs through his ashram. Chants and chai, the simplest of amenities, the shelter of kind hearts. Home, for now.
Illuminated roadside food stallBoats line the shore as a mass of people gather to bathe in the ganges
Early morning rush to Sangam, the confluence of the three holy rivers.
Bangled hands light a small flame and a stick of incense on the riverbank.Marigolds and petals crowd the water against the pontoons, the morning's offerings drifting together.
At Sangam, the confluence and one of the holiest places in Hinduism, thousands press toward the water through the night, a fire glowing at the heart of the crowd.
A sadhu throws his head back mid-chant, prayer beads wrapped around his raised arm.A young girl balances on a tightrope while another stands stoically below to collect money from bystanders, one of the carnival acts of the Mela. With so much theater, her face seemed to reveal something true.
A sadhu stands in the frigid waters of Ganga, alone and silent, his lips forming words he never speaks. Forty minutes pass and he remains, eyes fixed on the unseen.
Guru enters a Hindu temple that he upkeeps.Covered in ash to honor the dead, the Naga sadhus roar as they plunge into the water.
Tents in every color crowd together on the riverbed.
Petals and marigold garlands spill into the black water beside an orange float.On Shahi Snan a man floats completely still in the murky water of Mother Ganga, undisturbed, while millions clamor to the water's edge above him.
Huddled by a fire, a family gathers on the outskirts of the Mela, preparing for their morning walk to Ganga.
Hundreds of Sadhu’s prepare to rush into the Ganges for the celebration of Shahi SnanBoats wait on the dark river as gulls settle on the water, the far shore lit end to end.
On the morning of Shahi Snan, a series of unexpected events landed me on the front line of the press. Saffron flags crowd the far bank as a lifeguard waves toward shore and a hundred cameras wait.
On Shahi Snan, Naga sadhus charge into the river while a wall of cameras records every splash.Under the floodlights, pilgrims wade into the river in the dark before dawn.
An elder with a white beard rises from the water, one hand pressed to his chest.
Vedic text sits on a novice monk’s vibrant blanketA pilgrim rests with his staff in an abandoned fortress in Allahabad, where he stayed with his wife and daughter during the Mela. It did not glisten, but it was home, and they were happy.
Beautiful orangeness scattered throughout the mela area
Five puppies peer over a brick ledge, keeping watch on the lane.At night the pontoon bridges glow in rows, pilgrims crossing in silhouette. All of it built to be dismantled, soon washed away as Mother Ganga reclaims her veins.
Outside the Mela, on a hilltop over the sprawl, stands the only tree we had seen in days, with a broken swing. To the right, millions of people. To the left, desolation.
Man sleeps in an ocean of colored fabrics.Mayuri Ma cradles a baby in a pink blanket, her forehead painted gold and red, as the others lean in close.
A phone records the fire and the lit shore beyond it.
A frenzy of Naga Sadhu’s celebrate Shahi Snan at Sangam, the confluence of three holy rivers.Novice monk studies in his tent
A man stands, bathed in crimson light, downloading the teachings from the glowing roadside sadhu. Here at Kumbh consciousness moves. It is pulled and pushed. For some it shrinks and others it expands.From above, the temporary city sprawls along the river, girded by steel roads hammered into the riverbed, pontoon bridges stitched across the water.
