24 - Khumba Mela

What is the internal thrust that lures a person away from the relative comfort or at least, routine of established life circumstances, to venture on a pilgrimage into the unknown? Is it the search for dimensions of the self that one had failed to find in the usual commonplace circumstances?

Remember C. G. Jung's, "Modern Man in Search of A Soul?" The Greek philosopher, Plotinus, once said, "That which one fails to discover in contemplation, one seeks to experience outside oneself." The Rishi's, "Why did you come so far to see what you should be?" becomes more pertinent as I grow; the answer, "To become what I am, I need to see myself in you", less crucial, yet still relevant. This applies to all of us and has its implication to the guru/chela relationship. Perhaps the clue is, "I would not be seeking for you if you were not already virtually in me, albeit in a different way, but I need to explore a different mode of expression than the one you have actuated in your being."

Of course, in the same way as your minds are able to realize that there is always a larger number than the largest number we have encompassed so far, or a wider space or a longer time, so our souls are able to imagine that there is a perfection beyond what we usually portray. It is the nostalgia for this idyllic unknown in infinite regress that prompts the evolutionary advance of the universe. In as much as we give vent to our nostalgia for perfection, we are in pursuit of this perfection. Now we may understand better why people leave their homes on the meager chance of an encounter that may change their lives.

Did the Khumba Mela offer this rare chance? One had to have eyes to see and know how to get to the right place at the right time, while avoiding being crushed to death by the crowd, cordoned off and whipped by the police. One had to avoid being way-laid by the more spectacular sights. One needed to spot the beings of spiritual stature in their hide-outs or after their bath, in a procession. It was more subtle than looking for gems amongst lots of stones. All that glitters is not gold. The atmosphere of beings is more significant than their appearance. Occasionally, the real thing: four eyes meeting, four hands clasped in greetings from afar - in mutual acknowledgement of affinity - speaking? Of what use the trivia of, "Where do you come from?" The realized beings shun vain chatting and distrust verbal expression. I recognized in their bearing and glance, what I was experiencing on my retreats.

Yes, there were a few great ones, perhaps one could have counted them by the fingers on two hands, in that crowd of five million people, cantoned on a four mile square. The atmosphere was electric. Yet as we wandered at one A.M.. on the banks of the Ganges, amidst unteemed rows of sleepers, somebody remarked, "In the West, you would never get a crowd like this, so peacefully at ease with each other." In contrast, the atmosphere of many of the naked Sadhus was disruptive and reeked of pending violence. The contrast between the drug addicted Saddhus and the sublime "rishis" stood out so clearly as a confirmation of what drugs do to the psyche of humans, and conversely, what the effect of the clear light of realization, achieved at the cost of great discipline and renunciation, does to one's whole demeanor.

In the East, the first is called the way of the left hand (the lesser way) and the second, the royal road. The latter is the way through which one discovers the divine inheritance latent in one's being. Pir-o-Murshid once said, "This is the tradition of the King of Kings." Those wandering on this path recognize each other.

Greetings to you. Life is a great pilgrimage and we are in it together.
